Posts Tagged ‘Kate Gosselin’

(To the rhyme of eeny, meeny, miny, mo.)

What you hear just isn’t so:
Catch a tiger by its toe?
You see, that method’s bound to fail.
You catch a Tiger chasing tail.

My mother said to pick the very best one and HE is not it.

Sorry. I tried. I really did. To give Tiger a second chance, that is.  But as the Masters wore on, he wore out his welcome with me. The golfer told the world in a pre-tournament press conference that we’d see a different Tiger on the course. And we did. For the first couple of days, that is–when things were going his way. But on Sunday, when he got off to that shaky start, he was back to the old Tiger as evidenced by the following outbursts:

“Tiger, you suck.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“God damn it.”

And that was just what they caught on tape.

The gig’s up. The questionable things we used to chalk up to his fiery and competitive nature–the attitude, the language, the condescension– are now nothing more than garden-variety attributes of the jerk we know him to be. Woods may go down as the greatest golfer of all time, but unless the “new Tiger” looks a lot different than the one I saw at Augusta, he’ll be equally remembered for being a bad dude.

That’s why he should listen to me. After all, I’m no stranger to helping fallen sports heroes rebuild their image. Just ask Ben Roethlisberger.  And I’ve got the perfect idea for Tiger.

He should marry Kate Gosselin. That’s right. The one with all the kids. It’s widely reported that Woods and Elin are headed for divorce, so he’ll soon be a free man. And Kate’s the perfect mulligan.

Think about it. What better way for Tiger to rehabilitate his image than by proving he really is a family man, in spite of the nationwide, sexual buffet he so slothfully feasted on for the past several years? (There’s a Perkins joke in there somewhere that I wasn’t clever enough to pull off.)

And what better way to prove he’s a family man than by bunking up with a woman whose uterus was once larger than a downtown loft?

But the benefits of marrying Kate go well beyond image rehabilitation. Tiger and Kate would actually make a great couple. For dozens of reasons. Here are the top ten.

10. Tiger would be an excellent step-dad to Kate’s eight kids. Most men would have a hard time keeping up with all the names, but juggling eight names ain’t nothing for Tiger.

9. I’m no wildlife expert, but I’m near certain that a beaten-down tiger would get along pretty darn well with a nipped and tucked cougar.

8. If Tiger ever gets fed up with all the racket that comes with eight kids, he could always just pop one of his Ambien.

7. Kate’s on “Dancing with the Stars,” and word on the street is that Tiger likes dancers. A LOT.

6. Tiger could close his eyes each and every night knowing there’s a fighting chance that he’s sleeping next to someone whom people dislike even more than him.

5. Kate could close her eyes each and every night knowing there’s a fighting chance that she’s sleeping next to someone whom people dislike even more than her.

4. With the time commitment a new relationship requires, Tiger would be too busy to film any more creepy-ass commercials staring his dead dad.

3. Not that they don’t do a good job already, but together? Boy, oh boy, could they ever drive home that “sense of entitlement” concept to their kids.

2. Unlike Elin, Kate’ll think twice before taking a driver to Tiger should the cat ever decide to prowl. After all, with eight kids, there’s bound to be a witness.

1. And the number one reason Tiger should marry Kate Gosselin? They could have a reality show and call it “Tiger and Kate plus Eight,” where, depending on how the marriage goes, the “Eight” would refer to the number of children in their household, or the number of girlies Tiger cages on an average week.

So there you have it. I rest my case. Tiger should marry Kate as soon as his divorce is final.

I just hope they invite to the wedding. ‘Cause I’ve got a toast I’d like to give them.

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Lovie and I got married in 2006. She was a thirty-seven-year-old single mom to Pookie, and I was a thirty-six-year-old, semi-professional bachelor. Despite our relatively advanced age, we knew before we even tied the knot that we wanted to have a child together.

A child, mind you. At least that was my thinking. Lovie thought that more than one might be nice. “Let’s just focus on having one,” I offered. “Then we can see how we feel about having another.”

Obviously the news that we were expecting triplets tabled any future conversations concerning more children. Or so I thought. One night, when our trio was just six months old, Lovie casually mentioned to me that sometimes she thought it would be “funny” if she were to get pregnant again.

There were many adjectives that came to my mind with such a scenario, but funny was not among them. After all, in trying for a simple addition to bring us just below the national family average, we had somehow become the Waltons in one fell swoop. I wasn’t convinced that my potent brand of semen could be trusted to produce only one more. With my luck, I’d knock Lovie up with quintuplets. Then we’d be burdened with our own reality show:

John and Caroline Plus Nine

I don’t know about you, but one-upping the Gosselins didn’t sound like anything that I would ever consider even remotely “funny.” What if she wanted more after that and we duplicated our inaugural effort with yet another set of triplets? Talk about reality shows.

Our Good Lovin’ Made a Dozen? I don’t think so.

In December, I read that Kate Gosselin has a new show in the works. Frankly, it scared the hell out of me. After all, America needs more Kate Gosselin like Lovie and I need more children. If TV execs could possibly think that such a show was a good idea, I knew it was possible that Lovie just might relapse and again ponder the hilarity that would ensue with the addition of more children to our brood. Accordingly, I thought it would be prudent if I armed myself with TV show titles that would discourage such insanity.

Even If We Tried, Her Tubes Are Tied

But her tubes aren’t tied. So that didn’t make sense.

No More Trips ‘Cause John Got Snipped

Only I haven’t been snipped. And I never will get snipped. I’m scared of the knife, and I certainly don’t want to duplicate my good cyber-buddy Ron Mattock’s recent procedure. Besides, I hate frozen peas. The last thing I wanna do is sit on them.

Lovie’s Bod Will Not House Quads

Not bad. But that title left a little too much wiggle room for my liking. Technically, it allowed for the possibility of Lovie’s petite frame housing fewer than four. And then I came up with it–the perfect title for the only reality show I would ever consider when it came to our family—no matter what Lovie had to say about it.

Ain’t No Maybes—No More Babies

Luckily, it’s been nearly two years since Lovie has mentioned anything about the humorous act of adding to our family roster, so my clever title has not been necessary.

But you never know.

That’s why I’ve got it. Just in case.

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