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The Beauty Of Truth - by bruce potter

Tiger starts the year at 15 over!

January 20th 2010 03:45
Okay, so I was going to let this one pass and leave it to the hundreds of thousands of columns all ready written about the world's number 1 golfer, but I couldn't.
Tiger Woods could be described as, in my neighbourhood, a mad rooter. In Essex he's a Mad Shagger; In Santa Monica he's a Confirmed Sex Addict.
As such, why on earth would such a man get married? What's the point? If he's that much into sex, why settle for the one partner?
If it's for the joy of children, then it's a dishonest act, as they'll never know a time when their father was faithful to their mother. And when they get to school, imagine the teasing they'll get? It's a lifetime of torment for them.

As NBA players have shown too well, you don't need to be married to procreate.
So why be married?
I think it's because he loves the thrill of cheating; the illicit rendezvous - the stolen moment - the sneaking away to Paris for a weekend before the British Open. I think conventional sex with your wife - who happens to be a stunning Swedish nanny - Tiger would find very dull. There's no danger in it.
Of course, there's the financial aspect of of his public image to consider. If he was open about exploits, as say Russell Brand is, maybe Nike would be reluctant to give him $20million a year to say "Had a Boner, so I Just Did It!"
Surely he gets enough appearance/prize money to not worry about his image? I mean how many cars can one man own? (look at Jay Leno - actually don't)
I have no issue with Tiger servicing his libido in such an expansive fashion; it's the dishonesty that gets me. And what ever else he's done, Tiger deserves the green Masters jacket for dishonesty.
There's a darker side to this story, and please pardon the pun. So far all of the women that have come forward have been white. Apparently when Tiger loads some Rolling Stones tunes onto his Ipod, he always skips Brown Sugar. Let's see Tiger unring that bell.

As it stands, Tiger cannot currently do what he does best. He can't play golf either. Until he does Oprah, as in the program, or does larry King, he can't front up to a golf course and swing his 2-iron as there would be too many news choppers in his flight path.
And what about the batallion of people needed to support Tiger's lifestyle? He's got to have at least among the ten most famous faces in the world. There's no way he can walk into a bar and hit on a girl. There's got to be at least 40 people now looking for work, as Tiger no longer needs them to pimp his many movements and forays.
Most of all I feel sorry for his wife and kids. Sure her settlement will see her not have to go back to nannying any time soon, but the torment and the hassle she's going to go through as Tiger's many minders and the papparrazi make it difficult as they can for her is going to make
her's a difficult life.
Oh well Tiger, you're going to a be a long time out of bounds after this shanked career. It'll be a while before you get a preferred lie. Long time to be putting from the rough. (I can't stop, I really can't)
Crouching Tiger Hidden Pre-Nup!
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Terribly sorry but I've still got a faint taste of vomit in my mouth after reading yet more about how dreamy Robert Pattinson is.
I was speaking to a generation Y work colleague of mine recently and he was bemoaning the idea of having to listen to his girlfriend coo over Robert Pattinson again. He was noting that she overheard him saying something about how hot Megan Fox was, and now she's repaying him tenfold by constantly reminding him of how gorgeous she finds Robert Pattinson.
(FYI - he said New Moon sucked; which was my suspicion. If ever a film is embargoed from being reviewed before it's release date, it sucks. It's called a bump and run strategy, which they've updated to include the multiple midnight screenings nonsense. I didn't think much of Twilight, and wasn't going to bother with New Moon. True Blood is the vampire story for grown-ups.)
(FYI – 2 – Megan Fox has big toes for thumbs. There's a close-up in Tranformers where they look totally dwarf-like. Okay - who cares.)
This swooning over films stars reminded me of a relationship I had when I was a similar age, and I made the mistake of taking her to see Top Gun. (Yes I am that old.) For the next six weeks my love interest talked constantly to me and her friends about how dreamy Tom Cruise was. The comments even extended to why aren't you more like Tom Cruise? It's happened in subsequent relationships with Brad Pitt, Taye Diggs, George Clooney, et al.
My point is – what on earth do I and other men like my gen-y friend do with that information? None of us are ever going to be like Cruise, Pitt, Clooney, Diggs, so why bother burdening us with the disappointment?
Every man has a fantasy girlfriend/s. Any man who says he doesn't is lying. But most of us make an effort to keep it to ourselves. Hence, being a fantasy girl.
But for some reason, no doubt in the pursuit of honesty in the relationship, women seem bound to tell their men who they wish they were more like.
Why? How can this possibly improve the partnership?
Just do what we do and when you're closing your eyes in the private moments pretend you're with them. Therapists call this fantasisation. It may be pseudo cheating, but it's not quite as bad for the relationship as being in bed with Robert Pattinson and fantasising about being with your boyfriend. (Now all of the girls have lost all focus. See, it works!)
Not just are we not ever going to be like Pitt, Clooney and Pattinson, but you know who else is not like them? They aren't. Cruise is a freakshow sofa-jumping scientologist; Pitt dumped Jennifer Aniston for one of the world's most desirable women, so it's not like he's sitting by the phone; and Clooney is – well okay, he's pretty cool; and Pattinson is a 24 year-old guitar- playing Arsenal fan. Arsenal! You don't think he's fond of beer? But he's just so dreamy . . . here comes my lunch again.
My point is, and this relates to a previous post ( Men Are Not Projects) so many girls seem to be in love with the ideal, rather than the reality. So the movie worked it's magic, and you've fallen in love with Edward. He's not real. The real Pattinson is jamming in a garage with his band, and then heading down to the pub to sing Arsene Wenger to the opening line from Lion King (it works, try it) whilst drinking eight pints of Guiness.
And even is you did, by some cataclysmic good fortune and aligning of the stars, manage to find your way into Pattinson's bed, imagine the insecurity you would feel for the moment he walks out the door and into the gushing horde of thousands of other girls who want to be his Bella!
Ahh, there's beauty in the truth.



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Shouldn't Women do the Proposing?

October 12th 2009 13:32
Women! Propose to your men now!
Awake? Hopefully you are now. Marriage proposals are traditionally the man's area of concern, yet in practically every case I can remember they are hinted at, nudged toward, even prompted by women. As with most every tradition I encounter, they are a crock of shit and only persisted with because of some ridiculous idea that we all realise they're a crock, but we put up with them because that is the way it's always been done.
Maybe you're awake now.
In most cases marriage proposals occur when a couple who've been co-habitating for between 12 months to up to five years decide to “tie the knot”. Yet most men see it more like “tightening the noose.”
Co-habitation is vital for a couple to trully know each other and what they're like. If not for defacto marriages, I could be immersed in less than successful marriages, or more likely, messy divorces.
But co-habitation leads to reluctance and laziness on the man's part, and anxiety and negativity on the woman's part. The man thinks, oh well, everything's fine now, why should we fix what isn't broken. The woman rightfully thinks it's a trial run that should last no longer than twelve months.
And it shouldn't. If you can't get to really know somebody after twelve months of sharing a residence – of sport on the tv; of telephone conversations that never end or a bathroom full of products you've never heard of; or realising that farting terms really means putting up with some awful stink(she was a champion at the art of flatulence) – then it's time to give up. Move on with separate lives.
But if your marriage proposal hasn't arrived after five years of living together, with endless viewing of jewellery shop windows, and many instances of volunteering to baby sit, and even purchasing Modern Bride magazine – well it's time to propose to your man or send him back to live with his retard mates.
I've been asked out on dates twice in my adult life. It doesn't happen to men very often. Both times I was hugely flattered, even if one time the girl had a speech impediment which resulted in a piece of projectile spit hitting my forehead in the middle of dinner.
But we're delighted when a woman is forward and empowered enough to approach us.
As such it is high time the marriage proposal became the woman's area of responsibility.
Screw the tradition. After all, the wedding day and all of it's ritualised grief are all about the bride. There isn't a couple I've ever heard of who have the woman reluctantly being shoved down the aisle, only to be castigated by her groom for forgetting to pay the priest, or not being able to afford the best cars, or something the maid of honour said to the father in law.
Indeed, I've known a number of guys who put off the marriage proposal, not because they didn't want to be married, but because they wanted to put off the six to twelve to eighteen months of wedding planning nightmares.
I've been to over forty weddings in my time, and I've been Best Man three times. I've witnessed so many arguments about everything from seating arrangements, to speech running order, to what type of car, to flower arrangements. I actually think many women are more in love with the idea of being a bride, then with the man they are going to spend their life with.(BTW – two of those three marriages are no more; maybe it's me-one for three is not a good average.)
Don't misunderstand my agenda – I hope to be a husband and a father one day, but like
my hairline, it's getting further and further away.
The dark side of proposals is the reaction that two of my mates received to their popping of the big question – “yes” closely followed by “'Bout bloody time!”
Now that's starting a life together on a positive note. Here's where the traditional line of many husbands begins - “I'm always in the shit, it's only the depth that varies.”
I guarantee I will never enter into a life time commitment with a woman who expects me to assume that insane position, which may just guarantee my bachelorhood.
We also need to rethink this ritual of the man asking the woman's father for permission for her “hand”. Another crock of shit. It demeans the woman and makes her like a possession of her father's to be traded for tracts of land.
But more over as most wives will know, it's never a matter of the father approving of the new son-in-law; in many circumstances I can think of, it's the mother who doesn't get on with the daughter-in-law.
Once again, it's the opposite situation which is far more relevant. The woman should have to ask the mother for her son's hand in marriage. Wow. Now that's a scene loaded with tension. Imagine Xmas dinner if that little scenario doesn't go well.

So please, let's try to evolve a little as a civilisation. If the woman wants to be married more than the man; if she wants to have a trully grand wedding day; if she's eager to be a mother and wants to do so inside wedlock, then let's make it her call when it should start.
Men would love it. Most grooms are reluctant by nature. They're just hoping to get through the day relatively unscathed.
The woman picks both the rings anyway; now she gets to offer it as part of her generous proposal.
It's curious though; I can't imagine women going through any where near the anxiety that men do with the practical part of actually asking. Men would be so happy to be asked, that the woman could ask while she's sitting on the couch scratching her crotch watching the Swans with a mouthful of super supreme and an Extra Dry in her hand. She could even belch mid-sentence and she'd still get a yes.
And I'm quite sure no man would reply with a “Bout bloody time” either.

There's beauty in the ugly truth.
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Greg Inglis and the Arresting Love

August 21st 2009 12:16
I'm having another moment of wondering if I woke up in some weird dimension where the rules of common diplomacy are non-existent and moral compasses are smashed, their needles dangling like hanged men.

Greg Inglis joins the conga-line of professional sportsmen who have been charged rightly or wrongly with having done something awful to a woman


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I hate supermarkets. I understand they are a necessary evil, and I do feel sorry for supermarket staff for the soulcrushing task it must be to have to work there, and also for the atrocious manner in which their customers behave. But if I could live this and the next life over and never visit a supermarket again, it would be too soon.
Couples should never go to the supermarket together. A life shared is hard enough in modern times, but taking on the task of doing the regular weekly shop and avoiding the myriad opportunities for conflict is too much to ask.
The aisles may be wider then ever, but they’re littered with the detritus and fallout from many “happy” couples shopping adventures


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How do jockeys get dates? (3)

July 7th 2009 15:03
The only times I’ve ever felt remotely tall in my life were when I used to work at the horse races and had reason to walk through the jockeys room. Maybe that was what life was like for Shaquille O’Neal.

Imagine if you were picturing the ideal man; I’m not sure, but I tend to think that being four-feet-ten, having to diet like a crazy person, and having to be in bed by 8pm probably aren’t going to be qualities a woman would cherish


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How do jockeys get dates? (2)

July 7th 2009 14:32
Now you’re awake...
I played basketball for twenty years and so asked for all the torment I suffered as a result-
The Angry Ant; The Grumpy Dwarf; Webster; Mini-me; Spud; Elmer and my favourite – the Oompah Loompah – these were all nick-names I wore on various basketball teams and in some work environments. I had no trouble with this, because being called a nickname is far better than having one that is only used behind your back


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How do jockeys get dates? (1)

July 7th 2009 13:06
Awake?
A question for the ladies – A good sense of humour; a steady career; a loving approach to children; a patient attitude with in-laws; a sense of culture and a lack of interest in binge drinking – are all qualities women search for in a man. With that being the case, how many of you have been out with men shorter than you? Surely at least six foot tall should be the first of your priorities, as it’s fairly difficult to train men to be tall.
Or is it


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WHAT TO BUY?
So I said don’t buy her anything she wants or needs; so what do you get her?

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1) Remember the date! My mate passed this test and many do, but there is just as many stories out there of guys deservedly getting the silent treatment for a week after forgetting again.
My tip – at the beginning of the year spend $5 on a pocket diary. In the diary mark it with the birthdays for the women in your life – your mother, your sister, but especially your wife/girlfriend. Now mark a day the week before her birthday, which is when phase one of your operation will begin. Then mark the day before her birthday, when you should be well into final preparations. If you only mark her birthday, you may only check on that day, and then you’re into the last minute dash, which leads to almost as much pain as forgetting altogether. You should also mark it with yours/hers anniversary.

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