We Get It. He's Sorry. Next.

Just when I had settled in for my happy afternoon of watching my very important judge shows my T.V. viewing was rudely interrupted by a press conference. Not just any press conference, but the "Tiger Woods I'm Sorry Tour" press conference. The whole nation stood still while Tiger Woods got asked basically the same question fifty kagillion times and was as apologetic, contrite and humble. Yawn. Where's my remote? Is this the crap for which we are now interrupting MY T.V. viewing? For crissakes people, Tiger Woods is a freakin' GOLFER, not the president. Now I am never going to know if Kenesha gets her cell phone bill paid after her babydaddy ran off with that skank Monesha. O.K., they will probably rerun that one next week, but Tiger Woods is a GOLFER. We are a nation at war and when I hear: "We interrupt this program..." I can't help it thinking it is going to be for something more than Tiger Woods saying he sorry. AGAIN. We've moved on. Jesse James has completely diverted us. We whipped our heads around so quick to get a peek at his shenanigans we're lucky we don't all have whiplash. How could we help it? Nobody in Tiger's harem was dressing-up like a Nazi. My biggest disappointment was that no one asked the big question: "So Tiger, this tournament is called "The Masters". Is that short for what you will be doing a lot of in your sex life???" (Snark. Snark. Snort.) To the press, it's over. We've moved on and you need to too.