ALL THIS TALK ABOUT TIGER WOODS.

A Fair & Lovely Lea.

All this talk about Tiger Woods and his ‘sex addiction’ as if the man were humping what, the front nine holes at Augusta? How many American men regret not going out for JV Smurf in high school? That, of course, could’ve led to Varsity Smurf, and ultimately to lettering, i.e., a jacket, but no, didn’t go out for JV Smurf. Instead, these men grew up trying to emulate Captains of Industry—as if a ‘Captain’ in this context were some kind of ceremonial post, as if one would be the ‘Captain’ of Exxon, or Mercedes Benz, or the House of Hapsburg. As if there was any industry for anyone to captain, in any event, as opposed to a bunch of shoddy warehouses rusting the very dead ground upon which they were erected. What’s the greater joke—that our business leaders are ‘captaining’ square feet of empty air, or that generations of ‘Captains’ have presided over one big ejaculation that squandered the nation’s fixed assets? Perhaps a prophylaxis should be administered to every chap who seeks to emigrate or establish asylum in our fair land. He should be read the words “Welcome to America” as he is being flossed. His sons, he will think, in that moment, will grow up and go out for JV Smurf. That, or they could, one day, make love to a bearclaw or a cruller. It would be too dangerous after all to masturbate with a doughnut, seeing how the average law enforcement professional gravitates toward those confections. The clouds, the clouds, over the water tower, the water tower. Despite all the human activity to the contrary, the cycle of beauty—nimbostratus, stratus—can reassemble every day.