Tomorrow, Tiger Woods will make a statement. What will that statement be? Well, you’ll just have to wait for the statement.
But while you’re waiting for that statement, I’d like to make a statement. And let me preface my statement with another statement: the statement that I couldn’t care less what Tiger’s statement is. And let me follow up my pre-statement statement with another statement, which still precedes my actual statement, which prefaces Tiger’s statement, and is thus a post-pre-statement pre-pre-Tiger-statement statement (I think).
Have I lost you? I’ve almost lost myself. But almost losing myself is not losing myself, and so I haven’t lost myself in discussing which of the statements in the long line of statements both I and Tiger Woods will state is the statement I’m about to state next. That statement is this: my statement will be better than Tiger’s statement.
Yes, the statement I’m about to state will thrust the world into such a frenzied combination of excitement and rage that Tiger himself might even reconsider stating his statement. Even the mere statement that my statement will trump Tiger’s statement should be enough to make Tiger take a real hard look at whether his statement is worth stating.
But here’s where some problems arise. If just stating that my statement is enough for Tiger to unstate his statement even before he states it actually convinces him to unstate said statement, how would we really know that my statement is better than Tiger’s would-be statement to begin with? It would take a rather large leap of faith to believe that Tiger’s statement would be worse than my statement, despite neither of us actually stating our statements. Even if I did state my statement after stating my post-pre-statement pre-pre-Tiger-statement statement, if it prevents Tiger from delivering his statement, we still wouldn’t know which statement beats out the other statement. So while I have supreme confidence that my statement is the better of the statements, I still want Tiger to go ahead with his statement.
That stated, I’ll state my statement: I framed Tiger Woods.
Unwittingly, but still. I’ll explain:
I’ve long had a Tiger Woods costume. A very realistic, and therefore very troublesome, Tiger Woods costume. I’ve had a Tiger Woods costume since 1993, which is strange because Tiger Woods was not yet a professional golfer, not yet even in the public eye. On top of that, I was only eight years old. What kind of eight-year-old has a Tiger Woods Halloween costume three years before Tiger Woods even hit the pro ranks? No kind, that’s what kind. It wasn’t a Halloween costume. It was an Australia Day costume. Yes, in my family, every January 26, we wore costumes for Australia Day. My mom would take my sister and I around the neighborhood, and we would go up to the houses and knock on the doors and say, “Trick or treat!” And every homeowner would say the same damn things: 1). It’s not Halloween. 2). Oh, you’re celebrating Australia Day? 3). You realize we’re in the United States? 4). So then why are you celebrating Australia Day? 5). Oh, that’s pretty fucked up. 6). Oh, that’s really fucked up. 7). What is that costume, anyway? 8). There’s a tiger in the woods?? 9). Get the hell off my property!
Eventually I realized I could capitalize on Tiger’s fame to get with women. It worked out for a while, but then it came to a crashing halt when the women I, as Tiger, slept with, accused Tiger of sleeping with them, and this whole thing unraveled.
And before you start sympathizing with Tiger, let clarify my statement: Just because it was me sleeping with all the women who, thinking I was him, came out against him, that doesn’t necessarily mean that Tiger did not have affairs aplenty with other women. He probably did. In fact, I’m sure he did. And I’m sure he’s very sorry. And I’m sure his statement will be along those lines. And I’m sure he didn’t expect that there was some kid out there who’s had a replica of his body for the last 17 years and was simultaneously using it to get with women, sometimes even the same woman on the same night at the same time. I’m talking about you, Janet. You really thought there were two Tiger Woodses? And that they’d hit that at the same time? God, Janet, you’re so dumb. Fucking Janet.
And Tiger, too. You’re Tiger Woods! You didn’t put two and two together over at Janet’s house? You really thought there were two Tiger Woodses?
Regardless of whether or not Tiger understands that there can’t just suddenly be two of you (unless your name is Dolly, and even then, it’s more complex than that), I can’t wait to hear Tiger’s statement. I realize this goes directly against my first of three statements, which, as you might recall, stated that I couldn’t care less about Tiger’s statement, but all this talk of statements has made me statement-giddy. I’m now excited for statements in general. Any statement whatsoever. Bring on the statements!
Except you, Janet. Stay the hell away.