Get to Know Your Remote

Yes, tomorrow afternoon is the final round of The Masters. And yes, if Tiger is still among the leaders, it will be sports theatre at its finest. And yes, if he sinks a putt on 18 to win it and then immediately runs into the crowd, drops his pants, and starts a massive orgy in the gallery, it will immediately become one of whose "where were you when..." moments. But for all of you living in the New York and Philadelphia metro areas, there's something else happening on your moving picture boxes that promises to be just as exciting.

A Fist Pump for Tiger

Tiger Woods teed off at the Masters at 1:42 PM ET today and with that, we can (hopefully) put all the other stuff to rest and just marvel at his dominance. Frankly, I was never outraged by Tiger's affairs because a) those girls were, to quote my mother, "some top-of-the-line hookers" (so at least he wasn't knocking boots with, you know, the Steve Phillips targets of the world) and b) as a devout follower of both sports and politics, I've seen this story play out too many times before. Powerful people surround themselves with loyal handlers (who don't say peep until the proverbial feces hits the allegorical fan), the handlers arrange for the powerful people to be "accompanied" on the road and then they do it all over again at their next stop. The handlers tee it up; the powerful people drive it down the fairway. I'm pretty sure Tiger's capable of doing that.