The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
    Richard Day's picture


    File:Sigmund Freud LIFE.jpg

    All right, the way I heard it Jack Nicklaus' wife got on Johnny Carson. Carson inquired if she did anything for her husband by way of preparing for a tourney.

    Oh, I wash his balls.

    Boy, I bet that makes his putter flutter.

    Then I was told that Mrs. Nicklaus walked off the set.

    I found this site for urban legends and it attributes the 'scene' to Arnold Palmer; no wife being present. Arnie supposedly said his wife kissed his balls before a tournament and Carson fluttered the putter.

    Since no kinescopes or tapes exist prior to 1972, who the hell knows. Of course who the hell cares?

    Tiger Woods knew he'd been caught. Us Weekly has obtained a voice mail that he left for Los Angeles cocktail waitress Jaimee Grubbs after discovering that his wife had found out about their alleged affair. In the message, left on Nov. 24, the day before reports of his alleged infidelity broke, Woods's is heard saying: "Hey, it's Tiger. I need you to do me a huge favor. Can you please take your name off your phone? My wife went through my phone and may be calling you. So if you can, please take your name off that. Just have it as a number on the voicemail. You got to do this for me. Huge. Quickly. Bye." Woods, who also allegedly had an affair with New York party girl Rachel Uchitel, reportedly had a 31-month affair with Grubbs, despite the fact that he married in 2004 and has a two-year-old daughter and nine-month old son. Grubbs said that she loved how she and Woods "got along" but knew "in the back of my mind," that there'd always be someone else. You know, like his wife.


    Here is a female journalist who thinks she is really clever:

    Yeah, we know. He was the Good Athlete, the one who always sank the winning putt, never turned up in the tabloids and married the nice Swedish nanny with the asymmetrical lips. And then there was all that heartwarming stuff about his father. Which was pretty heartwarming. But did anyone who knows anything about the mating habits of professional athletes really think this particular sports animal--who loved his dad, loved his wife and kids, loved his life--wouldn't stick his putter in a club girl? Or two?

    2. When you do fess up, don't insult us. When Tiger finally did issue a statement, it said cryptically: "this will never happen again." What won't happen again? You won't plow into a fire hydrant and a tree at 2:30 in the morning ever again? (Tiger, Tiger, you can hit a hole a half mile away with exact precision. We all know you only plow into trees and fire hydrants if your wife is coming after you with a nine-iron.

    4. Pick your courses better. This is the most important one of all. Tiger, are you really surprised Jaimee Grubbs (who picks these mistress names, anyway?), the cocktail waitress-turned-reality-TV wannabe, reportedly sold her story for $150,000? And she wasn't just on any show. She was on VH1's Tool Academy, where women humiliate themselves trying to reform their cheating, proudly insipid boyfriends. She's going to stay quiet about her alleged fling with the most famous athlete in the world? You needed to play championship courses; you instead chose a muni.

    Get a grip!) Don't be surprised when the fabloids try to connect the dots you've splayed out there.

    You see it do you not. I mean, get a grip? Putting around the wrong hole All these clever journalists. I fell asleep at eight so I missed Letterman. I refuse to watch Conan or the other one anyway. But it has got to be baaaaaaaaaaaad out there.


    I mean the picture of the world's richest athlete (assuming he did not get too caught off in Madoff's scams or the entire Wall Street scam, which is a big assumption) running for his life from a spouse with one of his nine irons in her hand..........I mean come on. Hahhaahaha


    And then Mrs. Tiger, explaining that she had the iron in her hand because she needed to use it in order to save her husband's life after the crash. Hahahahahahaha

    In an effort to demonstrate that I have no taste whatsoever, here goes:

    Ahhhh, too many of my drives keep ending up on the wrong fairway.

    Looks like Tiger's balls just keep ending up in the wrong rough.

    Tiger has lost his mojo by three putting the fifteenth hole.

    Ooops, Tiger's fairway wood just caught the wrong sandtrap.

    Too many of his putts just keep lipping out.


    Ooooooooooops, Looks like Tiger muffed that one.

    Oh man, did Tiger drain that one.

    Have you ever seen such a beautiful hole location in your life?

    Well you can add any other poly-entendres if you will. It does not take a long study of Sigmund Freud to see some sexual innuendo involving a game where sticks and balls are used to approach a hole.

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