Tuesday, January 18, 2011
“This couldn’t come at a worse time,” Tiger sighed, having clumsily missed another plaster baby seal with his dreadfully awkward swing, “I’ve got my annual NAACP charity golf tournament in a couple of weeks.”
My friend, Tiger Woods, had come to me for a swing lesson, having found my method of developing the perfect swing technique by using the club on plaster baby seals to be extremely beneficial.
“Ah, March Madness,” I said, “I had to give it up myself. Gambling is a harsh mistress.”
“You know all about those,” K-Ro chimed in, nudging Tiger.
“Um, that’s basketball,” Tiger said.
“Of course,” I said, “I should have taken you for a cager when you walked in.”
“No,” Tiger replied, “March Madness is basketball. I’m a golfer.”
“But you just mentioned the NAACP tournament,” I argued, “The avid sports fan refers to that as March Madness. I should think you would recognize the difference.”
“Did you hear my harsh mistress line?” K-Ro asked.
“This is the NAACP,” Tiger explained, “The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.”
“Colored?” I gasped, “That is quite racist. I believe they prefer to be called African Separatists.”
“The NAACP works for people of all colors,” Tiger went on, “Black, Latino, Asian, and even Indian.”
“Is white a color?” asked K-Ro.
“It is the Indian who carries my sympathies,” I said, “That noble savage, taken from his ancestral homeland and forced to work in whiskey distilleries.”
“I think you’re confused,” Tiger said.
“The Indians should hold a grudge against Africans,” K-Ro interjected, “They brought homosexuality and AIDS over here and put it on their blankets.”
“Don’t be an ignorant fool,” I said, “It was the white man who created homosexuality. With those powdered wigs and tight pants. But, come to think of it, perhaps it was the Indians themselves. Have you ever seen Gandhi? No straight man would dress like that.”
I paused to let them reflect on the profundity of my statement. K-Ro looked into the distance thoughtfully. Tiger simply shook his head, astounded at my wisdom.
“Nevermind that now,” I said finally, “Let’s return to the business at hand. And as a reformed gambler I shall offer a little advice to you, my dear Tiger, regarding your tournament. Bet the 12 seeds.”