You’ve probably seen the picture…but if you haven’t, check it: Mark Pain of UK’s the Daily Mail caught this shot of Tiger right before it hit him. Pain was in an approved area for photogs, too, so Tiger couldn’t bitch. I like the expressions of the peanut gallery behind him. Hey! Is that Cheech Marin? The dude to the far right. In the blue trousers. With hands in his pockets and a stogy in his mouth? And the dude a couple over from him…with his hands in the air. Is that another golfer who’s totally jazzed Tiger just whacked a photographer? And will Tiger ever get it back? Of course he will…once he goes back to his old ways. I dunno why he hasn’t already. His wife left. He’s a free agent. My only advice to him — besides banging a bunch of whores again — would be to actually pay up for it. Quit being a cheap skate, Tiger! Pay up for the pussy and you’ll be at the top of your game once more! This isn’t Karma bitch slapping you cause you banged whores behind your wife’s back…it’s Karma bitch slapping you cause you’re one cheap Negro. Once Tiger gets tired of beating off to porn, hopefully he’ll start the hobby again…and golf will matter once more. My advice: ditch Southwest Air and the Holiday Inn Express and fly them around first class and bang them in a Four Seasons…or book a super sweet suite at a W. Then — and only then — will the Birdies and Eagles fly again.

God damn it I can’t believe I waited so long to jump on the Twitter Bandwagon. I’m a slow learner, though…always have been. I have a short attention span, too…so whether it’s related to books and music, Wilco or Wayne Coyne, Ivy Winters or Tara Lynn Foxx, Bill Maher or Michael Moore, I can get all the info I need without wasting a whole bunch o’ time. Plus, the nudie shots Miss Winters posts give me a boner.

We Are Plastic Ono Band was, hands down, one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. They played The Orpheum last weekend; I caught Friday’s show. I don’t care what you think about Yoko. First off, she didn’t break up The Beatles, and secondly, Julian Lennon is OK with her now…so you should be, too. Besides, when’s the last time you saw a 77 year old rock out and dance all over the stage for a couple hours? I still haven’t figured out what I liked best: Vincent Gallo’s humble crooning, Perry Ferrell’s I-wanna-be-Morrissey look, Nels Cline’s fucking awesome guitar, the crowd singing “Give Peace a Chance” with Yoko to close the show, or — of course — Iggy.

Speaking of shows, Weezer is doing some sort of gig where they’re playing their first record and Pinkerton…and that’s it. For the most part, that’s all The Weez anyone really needs. Pinkerton is my very favorite record they’ve done, so I’ll be there. I just wish Matt Sharp was still playing with them.

I’m getting called out as a fink by more than one person as I start to recollect my relationship with The Actor. “With friends like you…” one reader commented. I took an Ethics in Writing course while I was doing my grad work, so I know all the arguments, but you really start to think about it when you’re writing about real people you’ve done real things with, especially when there’s a readership. Not that I have a lot of readers, but there’s a few of you. Like I said…not a lot. Anyway, after some thought, I’m sticking with the stories about my times with The Actor — good and bad. Not like there’s gonna be lots of blogs about The Actor. Maybe one or two more. When I have time to jot them down.

And how about my death threat?! Did you guys catch that one? It’s in the comment section when I blogged about Black Cock Sluts. Someone with poop in their pants about the content I direct — specifically black dudes railing white girls — wants to “cut my throat”. I wonder…is that even a death threat? I mean I suppose I’d eventually die if I didn’t get immediate medical attention from a cut throat. But the actual act of cutting a throat does not kill someone. It’s not like Poopy Pants wants to cut my head off, which we all know would result in an immediate death. So I dunno if I could call the comment “w” left an actual “death threat”. But I suppose so. What is it with all the hate some people carry around with them? And I wonder…just how did Poopy Pants find my blog in the first place? Perhaps he belongs to Blacks on Blondes already? Like I said before, most of The Hate comes from a feedback form found in the members’ area…which, in the most ironic of ways, makes perfect sense. I guess.

I still haven’t gotten any further with my profile on OK Cupid, and I read the comment a reader left saying I should ditch OK Cupid and try Match.com. A friend of mine echoed that, saying something along the lines of OK Cupid is free, and it costs some dinero to join Match.com, and if you’re shelling out money to join a dating site, you’re probably looking for something beyond poking your dick in some yummy poon tang. She should know, as she’s on Match, and she used to be on OK Cupid, and she’s doing OK on Match, and all she ever met were “weirdos” on OK Cupid. So now I’m thinking Match. Not that I’d let anyone sway any decisions I make. Uh huh.

I have 4,452 songs on my iPod, and Ted Nugent’s “Stranglehold” just ended with AC/DC’s “Back in Black” following immediately thereafter. I bet have have less than a dozen songs in the same genre as the two I just mentioned. Could someone who’s really good at math could please figure the odds of two so-bad-they’re-awesome metal songs playing back-to-back in a randomized, 4,452 song rotation? First one that does shall be issued a 30 day password to the world’s greatest hand job site — Manojob.com

That should get the right side of your brain all hot n’ bothered.