Sometime Friday, I was looking at the news on my computer and the lead article said Tiger Woods had been in a traffic accident and was in serious condition.  Immediately, I thought of his career and whether the accident would keep him from competing.  I’m a big Tiger  fan and believe he has been wonderful for the resurgence of golf.  Sometimes, I pull for the underdog, but I never cheer against Tiger.

Then, as the news trickled out, we found that Tiger had been treated at the hospital and released.  That was good news.  But, then everything flashed bizarre.  The accident was at 2:25 AM Friday morning.  He had run into a fire hydrant and a tree.  Tiger fans are already questioning who had placed the fire hydrant at that location.  Then, we find out that his wife, Elin, hearing the crash ran out of the house and broke the rear window out of his SUV with a golf club.  Fans will be interested in which club she selected and what grip she used.  She was able to extricate Tiger out of the rear of the vehicle.

We have been advised that alcohol was not involved in Tiger’s crash.  Again, good news.  But efforts by the police on Friday and Saturday to obtain statements from Tiger and Elin have been unsuccessful.  That is a shame.  It takes some of us back to Chappaquiddick.  Are they putting a story together?  I hope not.

My advice to Tiger is to tell the truth.  It can’t be anywhere near as bad as being caught in a lie.  They probably had a fight and he stormed out of the house.  So what?  Even the happiest of marriages have knock-down-drag-out fights.

Tell the truth Tiger.  Me and your mother have already forgiven you.

I received one of those humorous emails that tells certain idiosyncrasies about certain locations.  This location was St. Louis.  It said, “If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don’t work there – you might live in St. Louis.”  “If you have a lengthy phone conversation with someone who dialed the wrong number – you might live in St. Louis.”

Well, I took umbrage with one of them.  It went, “If you take I farty-far to Six Flags – you might live in St. Louis.  I grew up in the St. Louis area (over on the East Side), and will humbly admit that we pronounce our “ORs” as if they were “ARs.”  We eat carn on the cob and sometimes eat carn with a fark!

So, what am I upset about?  We would never pronounce “four” as “far.”  We do just fine with “our,” it’s just “or” that we do a number on.  So, if someone takes I farty-four to Six Flags – they might live in St. Louis.  And, their daughters might be wearing shart sharts.

Now, the real purpose for this comment is to introduce a new category called Short Shorts.  See, I do know how to spell it.  This is my first one.  They will never fill up a page.  At times I would like to comment on current events, but by the time I get around to writing, it’s no longer current.  This should also help all my buddies with Attention Deficit Disorder.