Dear Tiger,
Last week you crashed into a fire hydrant and tree after your wife went after you with your own golf clubs. At least that's what I've decided happened. Please just admit it. I have a right to know. What gives me that right, you ask? Let me list the ways.
One time, I was watching Golf on television, and you missed your putt. So let's recap, I was watching Golf (you already owe me) and you missed your putt.
Another time, you won a major championship that I didn't even know was being played, or existed, and I read about it in the paper. Well, I saw the headline anyway, and to be honest, it may have just been an article about Tigers, but either way you owe me.
I've also seen Buick ads on any number of websites that bore your image. I even thought about buying a Buick once, so I have earned the right to know every detail of your personal life, as well as to speculate online about it, and to expect you to respond to my irresponsible speculations.
So let's recap. I've seen you on TV, I've read about you in the papers, and I've seen you in advertisements. How do you not owe me the most personal details of your life? Asshole.
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