Today in Post-Race History: Stripes

Dear Tiger Woods, 

Welcome back, sir!  We have missed you.  Your re-emergence will undoubtedly help the multiracials get their swagger back, and just in time for the 2010 census!  (How many boxes do you check, Tiger?)  2009 was definitely a bummer for the American mixed-race, but now, with BHO passing health care reform and your return to the golf course, 2010 will be the year of Mo'Nique, Tyler Perry, and the racially ambiguous.  The post-race universe is back in order.

Last year was tough for world's most famous Cablinasian.  You experienced every part of that portmanteau, Tiger.  You started off as the best golfer in the world, dominating the sport so thoroughly that only Benjy Compson wailed louder than those good ol' boys yearning for the days of yore as you raise yet another trophy over your head [Ca].  Yet the sex scandal combined with that Vanity Fair cover darkened not only your future, but your skin tone, and we wondered if you'd been hanging out in the driving range in the midday sun too often, or had visited Jack Johnson's grave while on the tour [bl].  Embarrassed, you disappeared for three months [in], only to hold a press conference and remind us that you were a Buddhist, and thus not sexually predatory [asian].  Working your way through all those stereotypes in a matter of months must have been tiring.  I'd take a long vacation, too.

Schadenfreude for Dummies

Today is my birthday. [Golf clap.]  Moving on.

Consider this my obligatory, quite random and uninspired response to the Tiger Woods' apology: It was boring, about as interesting as watching golf on television.  Like, seriously.  How can I take voyeuristic pleasure in something so...um, vanilla [talking about the speech, not Woods' taste in women]?  For a guy who sends such racy text messages, I was expecting a much more electrifying statement.  If Tiger Woods had read from his Blackberry I assure you all that his apology would have actually been worth talking about.  Maybe he should've used Autotune.  Is there an App for animating an otherwise mundane statement by a professional athlete?

How much more satisfying would it have been if Woods had just walked up to the podium and said, "My wife made me do this..."?

Dear Common, Did you seriously say, "I'm a man"?  With a straight face?


Generally, I resolve not to make New Year's resolutions.  That way, I've already broken my resolution by day one, and don't have to spend 364 days talking about how I failed yet again.  Since I'd rather watch football than go see racist-ass Avatar, I'm low on blog ideas.  I know you don't want to hear me rant about the Colts' stupidstupidstupid "rest the starters" approach to the end of the season, and how they're totally going to get their butts kicked by the Chargers if they don't get their act together.  So, I've compiled a list of things I resolve to do in the new year.  No, finish my dissertation is not one of the things I plan to do.  If anything, I am a sensible human being.

Scribbled Paper: Notes on a Scandal

I had a bit of a family emergency last week that resulted in me spending several hours in New York Presbyterian Hospital instead of checking out that tree in Rockefeller Center, seeing Shrek before it leaves Broadway next month, and visiting my favorite sneaker boutiques.  (To the folks who commented on last week's blog, my apologies.  Life happens and I didn't have much time to engage.) As a result, I kind of have no idea what's going on in the world.  I do know, however, that Victor and Nikki got back together (AGAIN!) after his heart transplant.  Thanks, Grandma Charlotte.