Straight No Chaser: The Newest Soap

By Desi Cortez, BASN Columnist
Updated: December 9, 2009
DENVER (BASN) — As the talking box said “the ambulance is exiting Tiger Woods’ Florida estate . . .” I was pounding out what I could only believe was cutting edge, up-to-the-moment snap shot of the toil trouble bubbling out from behind the Walls of Wood’s estate.

Tiger has committed acts. which in 1964, would have got his black ass hung – having now damn near killed this White women, because he’s breaking her little Barbie doll‘s heart . . . by bedding what appears to, at least be – a baker’s dirty dozen.

Hell, who’s to say come Christmas we might be up to 25, maybe 30 bimbos?

And not one of them will be Black.

It leaves one to ponder; how can a man love, be raised by his Black father, yet, it appears, not be attracted to Black women? Nevertheless, this is but one of the many cocktail conversations surrounding Tiger.

Everybody is trying to understand what makes this Tiger tick.

Apparently it’s his . . . .

But here’s a cat who literally invented, concocted, made-up his ethnic identity . . . Cablinasian and please note “Black” didn’t even get a whole syllable . . . Tiger, let’s face it, hates his Blackness . And considering the landscape, he isn’t the only one.

GOP Houseboy Michael Steele must too; to do the voodoo that he do for angry White people – he must hate himself.

Woods can’t confess the obvious, ’round mid-night in Manhattan, trying to hale a cab . . . he’s a black man. When he steps on the elevator in San Francisco hotel, and two aging White women clutch their hand-bags. . .

stiffen, hold their breath. But, I can only assume Tiger’s oblivious to this American reality.

Money can do that for you.

Here, now come tomorrow, as sponsors abandon him . . . it’ll be like a “coming to Jesus moment” for convicts behind bars – all of sudden, Tiger’s going to realize this country has a problem with a Black man, an uppity nigger for all intense purposes, was going around hurting, insulting and embarrassing a gone-astray (nigger lover) princess – from a royal Swedish family, by sexually exploiting willing white whores.

Tiger’s damn near instantly, like instant oatmeal, becoming a walking racial, gender and class debate; the role of his vast wealth, his denial, disassociation and indifference towards peeps-of-color and both his being the victim of domestic violence, while treating women, white women like disposable trash.

The barbershop philosophers, the sports bar scholars, even the ladies where my wife gets her do’ done – at Honie’s, Hellatious House of Holistic Hair Management here in the Mile-Hi City, everybody’s talkin’ bout Tiger, analyzing Tiger’s thang for white trash.

Unfortunately, at the end of nine hoes, 18 or even 36 hoes if you will, Tiger, like most Black men has tragically been brainwashed to equate power, success and social standing with sleeping with snow bunnies.

These white women represent, in his little painted n’ tainted mind, the ornaments, trophies and manhood monuments which accompany his story of success and glory.

His vanilla Pop-Tart obsession is merely what happens when you tell people, pour down their brain stems – White is right, and Black . . . had better get back, and you institute a form of a self-hatred indoctrination called American Popular Culture 101. . .

for a few hundred years.

Thanks, Dr. Travis Boyce for that bit of enlightenment . . . it’s called deculturalization convincing a man to think his mother, sister, daughter pales in her womanhood when compared to a blond-haired, blue-eyed twiggy.

Tiger’s a Black millionaire based on his ability to slap whitey a few hundred yards, but he’s a Black billionaire because he adopted, or was maybe brainwashed by his dad to display the customs, values and standards corporate America could package, market and sell to the WASP consumer.

End of story.

The only tarnish, the only stereotypical Black thing Tiger did?

Tiger dared step out of his place, marry a White women. But alas, it was all right because Tiger, like OJ, circa 1977 was a model Negro; perfect diction, proper high nasal tone, no slurring, blending or chopping off of words- no hint of Ebonics, No tattoos, braids, bling, blang nor Pimp suits, and on top of all that, the boy had the Right attitude; no controversial comments, no anger, no political comments, he was only Black because his father was Black.

Tiger tucked his tail in at Augusta, didn’t really endorse Obama in what was an historical moment, turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the slave labor used by his sponsors overseas and even lectured-to that uppity nigger Mike Vick about coming clean and fessing up . . .

Ain’t that a punk-ass weasel for you – because he was abiding by the rules of society, which corporate America obviously recognizes, and being their high paid whore, Tiger must abide by the rules which White America demands of Black sportsmen they allow to ascend; humble, docile, faithful to the Viking princess he was permitted to bed, the whole 1955 TV sitcom dad thing.


Tiger depicted himself as Ward Clever, or Robert Young on Father Knows best – he knew he had to for this nation to embrace him, for the world to adopt him . . . so he sold out to the . . . corporate establishment.

Now, after all these sexual shenanigans, with white women, granted they are all lowly nigger loving whores in the minds of the far right in America, they’re still white flowers – it’s the flippin’ principal . .

. Tiger is no longer a honorary White guy . . . he’s just another million dollar nigger . . . with no major sponsors.

This is going to come as a slap in his face. Let’s bet, here n’ now, he reenters public life with a go-tee, changes his look now that he realizes he is no longer accepted as White.

Perhaps he can portray himself as a “bad White boy” say a Bill Clinton, you know a womanizer. But, the only hitch here, a-part of Bill’s claim to brother-hood . . . he slept with Black women, hell, he made little paper-sack tan babies . . . Tiger, it seems doesn’t like the taste of a black women, His fear might be, once you go black . . . you most likely ain’t commin’ back.

Tiger would awake one morning having a taste for grits and watermelon, want to turn on reruns of reruns on Soul Train.

I believe by the new year, Tiger will be a new man, a new Black man.

Can I call him El?