Ramblings Post #87
I grew up in a "spin" world. The facts can come out later, what the major concern is right now is "spin"; how can turn this situation so it looks good for me? How can I get this over with right now and not look any worse than necessary. So, I know spin when I see it. And I can tell good "spin" from bad "spin". And as a golfer Tiger should know spin, if only on the ball. And right now, Tiger has got subpar "spin". Bad even.
I'm still going over the PGA rule book, looking for the part that says if you "cheat on your wife" you can't play. Because I don't think it is in there. And if that isn't in there, what Tiger really needs to do is get back on a golf course and remind folks that he's a really phenomenal golfer.
Did he cheat on his wife? In a an eye popping spectacular fashion. But that heavily scripted bit of foolishness of a press conference somebody put together for him really isn't what he needed to do. The cat is out of the bag, we all know you're not really that boring even keel guy that you portrayed for all these years, so why is your apology a transparent attempt to try an get back into that guise?
Me? I would have sent him out with a drink in one hand, and told him to curse two or three times. And looking more than a little ragged. Sit down and look worn out. Have him say what we all know: "I had it all, but I fucked up it bad". Extol the virtues of his wife, apologize to the kids that he's sorry he hurt mommy. Let him ramble for few minutes. Curse a few more times. This would have actually help legitimize the tears it looked like he was holding back. I might have even let him *gasp* take one or two questions AND give honest answers before he apologized he couldn't do this anymore and walk out.
His handlers need to realize all that endorsement money that already left is gone and ain't coming back - that fakery is over. Trying to rebuild that "brand" is a lost cause. If they were real professionals, the new fakery should have begun now, and it shouldn't look anything like the old fakery. I guess just because somebody pays you do it, that doesn't make you a professional.
Barkeep. Tall. Cold. Alcoholic.
Showing posts with label Bitch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bitch. Show all posts
Friday, February 19, 2010
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
The Ghost Orderer
In a rush as work was a piling up, I popped around the corner into Popeye's Chicken to grab a two piece and biscuit.
How black is that?
Anyway, I get in line and there are three people in front of me. But I'm wrong. I only see three people in line, but there are in reality nine. There were the three people actually there, and the six other people this "fat chick" ordered for that basically held up production. I hate that, I mean I took the time to come down here and place my order, doesn't that deserve a little respect?
I have the same issue with cell phones on dates. I explain it like this: I get dressed, burn up gas and choose a nice spot. Pay for drinks, an appetizer, two entrees and dessert. I've given you my undivided attention to learn who you are and what you're all about....and if the phone rings you want to spend twenty minutes talking to some dude in his draws on his couch half watching ESPN who would ask you to bring something if you were headed over that way instead of me. And you expect another date?
Women who know this irritates me have been known to ask permission to answer their own phones when with me.
But back to my chicken. So at one point as the sole little chicken order assembly person puts together order after order - for one person - the rest of the orders back up. At one point there are twelve people waiting as this one lady gets her food. And I can see the tensions rising. Odd conversations started up between strangers. People who ordered before the chicken lady started to wonder why they weren't getting served first. I could feel revolution in the air.
I was about to suggest that this manager institute a two meal per person maximum. To write my state representative and offer the idea that a state law be passed to put in a bulk order lane. To call the president and not only have him pardon Ronald Isley but fix this growing "Chicken Inundation Situation". To start a grass roots movement to have the constitution amended to include speedy fried bird as the inalienable right of every man, woman and child in this great country!
Then I got my chicken and I was out. So like whatever.
Barkeep...you got sweet tea, right?
How black is that?
Anyway, I get in line and there are three people in front of me. But I'm wrong. I only see three people in line, but there are in reality nine. There were the three people actually there, and the six other people this "fat chick" ordered for that basically held up production. I hate that, I mean I took the time to come down here and place my order, doesn't that deserve a little respect?
I have the same issue with cell phones on dates. I explain it like this: I get dressed, burn up gas and choose a nice spot. Pay for drinks, an appetizer, two entrees and dessert. I've given you my undivided attention to learn who you are and what you're all about....and if the phone rings you want to spend twenty minutes talking to some dude in his draws on his couch half watching ESPN who would ask you to bring something if you were headed over that way instead of me. And you expect another date?
Women who know this irritates me have been known to ask permission to answer their own phones when with me.
But back to my chicken. So at one point as the sole little chicken order assembly person puts together order after order - for one person - the rest of the orders back up. At one point there are twelve people waiting as this one lady gets her food. And I can see the tensions rising. Odd conversations started up between strangers. People who ordered before the chicken lady started to wonder why they weren't getting served first. I could feel revolution in the air.
I was about to suggest that this manager institute a two meal per person maximum. To write my state representative and offer the idea that a state law be passed to put in a bulk order lane. To call the president and not only have him pardon Ronald Isley but fix this growing "Chicken Inundation Situation". To start a grass roots movement to have the constitution amended to include speedy fried bird as the inalienable right of every man, woman and child in this great country!
Then I got my chicken and I was out. So like whatever.
Barkeep...you got sweet tea, right?
Labels:
Bitch,
Cell phones,
Chicken,
Ghost,
Order
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