Tiger Woods Foundation Job Announcement

JOB ANNOUNCEMENT

SEXY SECRETARY

Wanted: Sexy Secretary

The Tiger Woods Foundation’s Department of Internal Affairs, pun intended, is looking to hire a full-time “secretarial pool” of sexy secretaries to service the boss in whatever capacity or position he may require. In light of recent events, it is hoped that this arrangement will be much easier to control and be less costly to Mr. Woods’ net worth.

If you’re a blond bombshell dreaming of a position working along side a young, hung and horny billionaire in the office, sharing sly grins and smiles and then multiple times a week enjoying hidden rendezvous of extreme pleasure—you might want to apply today.  If you’re seeking respectable employment with a great starting salary as well as the occasional hole-in-one from the boss, Mr. Woods is eager to provide that fringe benefit.

Please email your numbers and a headshot so that we can set up a time to discuss Mr. Woods’ favorite positions and other details. If he agrees that there is a physical attraction and that the “job” might work out well for both of you, then Mr. Woods will contact you personally about getting together for a private “interview.” The Woods Foundation asks that you please take your name off your phone because Miss Elin will be checking.

Knowledge, Skills and Abilities

Mr. Woods is all about discretion and a capacity to keep secrets is a must. Tiger is serious about changing his womanizing ways, but just like a smoker that uses a nicotine patch, he will need to scratch that itch occasionally until he can go cold turkey. That’s where you come in. Tiger obviously doesn’t care about your typing and filing skills and the secretaries he hires must have a demonstrated ability to perform orally.  You girls must know how to fake the funk and look busy doing nothing important while waiting for Tiger to call.

Education, Training and Experience Requirements

This is the part of the job announcement where an employer is supposed to lay out what they want from perspective employees in terms of education and experience.  Mr. Woods obviously could care less about that. Tiger don’t care if you ain’t got a brain in your head because he only wants one thing from you, baby and one thing only: the willingness to drop everything when he calls and the ability to travel anywhere on a moment’s notice ready to “just do it.”

Men, ugly chicks, and non-white females are strongly encouraged not to apply.

Kristi Watts: Pat Robertson’s Slave Girl

Name: KRISTI WATTS	HAVE YOU SEEN THIS DELUSIONAL NEGRO?
Questionable Role: Pat Robertson’s un-be-weave-ably happy darkie co-host on the right wing 700 club.	KRISTI NEEDS YOUR HELP
Age: Old enough to know damn better.	Sex: Female
Date she left reality: The day her stupid arse went to work for Robertson’s talabangelical network in 1999.	Race: Black (Kristi’s membership in the race is under review.)
Latest Incident: Sitting there like a lobotomized coon while Pat Robertson attempted to discourage charitable giving to Haiti by spinning a fictitious tale of Haitians making a pact with the devil to gain independence from the French.	Height: 5’6″
City Last Seen: Virginia Beach	Weight: 140 lbs
State : Virginia	Hair: Weave
Country: United States	Eye Color: Brown
What You can do: Apparently Kristi doesn’t know that slavery is over and that she is free to leave Pat Robertson’s racist plantation network at any time to find legitimate work that doesn’t prey on her people’s religiosity and steal their hard earned money. Your generous contribution will help assist a team of professionals that will plan and execute an intervention on Kristi. They will show her that she doesn’t have to be Pat’s fuc*ing slave girl and that Christianity is not synonymous with the GOP. Should they fail to persuade Kristi, they’ll just beat her damn arse like she stole somethin.’

Michelle and Laura tour the White House

After arguing passionately over proposition 8, I feel that you all could use some humor.  This is my first attempt at humor in a long while.   It stops when I am depressed and I am trying to recover.

I understand Michelle Obama got a grand tour of their new digs the other day and a little birdie told me that this is how it went down.

Mrs. Bush: (with clenched teeth and squeezed butt cheeks)   Welcome to the White House, Mrs. Obama.  It is a (makes air quotes) “fabulous honor” for me to introduce you to the loyal household staff and give you the grand tour of the entire residence and state rooms.

Mrs. Obama: Mrs. Bush, the cameras are gone.  You can cut the act.

Mrs. Bush: Whew.  Thank You.  I didn’t know how long I could’ve kept up the act.  The truth of the matter is that you people frighten me.  I just don’t know what this world is coming to.  Your husband’s election over a perfectly good white man is just not right if you ask me.

Mrs. Obama: No damnbody asked you.

Mrs. Bush: Anyhoo, I’ve had two Xanax and two Bloody Mary’s so we need to make this quick before they kick in.

Mrs. Obama: I can handle it from here. Don’t you have some embarrassingly servile House Negro who can show me around while you sleep it off?

Mrs. Bush: Condi is either shopping for shoes or in the Middle East and George fired that turncoat Colin Powell four years ago.

Mrs. Obama: No, Ma’am.  I didn’t mean those embarrassingly servile House Negroes, I meant the Black servants that wait on you hand and foot like they’re still on a plantation.

Mrs. Bush: Ron Christie, Armstrong Williams, and Alphonso Jackson are no longer with the Administration, dear.

Mrs. Obama: Nevermind. I see your (makes air quotes) “medication” is beginning to kick in.  Let’s just move on.

Mrs. Bush: Mrs. Obama, this is the White House Red Room, one of the White House’s many color themed historic parlors.   In keeping with this theme, your husband could entertain his many socialist and communist sympathizers and collaborators as they plot to redistribute the hard earned wealth of the the richest 1%.

Mrs. Obama: Since were on the red theme, is this the room where your husband concocted the twin red herrings of weapons of mass destruction and yellow cake uranium from Africa as a pretext for war in Iraq? Cat got your tongue?  That’s what I thought. Why dontcha just keep it moving.

Mrs. Bush: Mrs. Obama, this is the famous Lincoln Bedroom that the previous president kept as busy as a brothel on a Saturday night by wheeling his wealthy campaign donors in and out at lightning speed. Needless to say, we’ve restored the room to its intended purpose.  How do you people plan to honor President Lincoln?

Mrs. Obama: The best way to honor President Lincoln, Mrs Bush, is to unify the nation and preserve the union he so vigorously defended, unlike your draft-dodging, chickenhawk husband, and to work across the aisle with mutual respect and bipartisanship.

Mrs. Bush: Michelle, dear, here we have the historic Treaty Room as renamed by Jacqueline Kennedy, your role-model.   Speaking of Mrs. Kennedy, I do hope that you can keep better track of your husband than Jackie could. Democrat wives seem to have a problem in that department.  Anyhoo, The Nuclear Test Ban Treaty was signed in this room by President Kennedy in 1963. Your husband can use the room to surrender our nation’s sovereignty to the U.N. and leave us defenseless in the War on Terror.

Mrs. Obama: Treaties, now that’s a concept I wasn’t aware the Administration knew anything about.   Have you ever heard about the Geneva Conventions?  No?  Neither has GeeShrubya.   As for keeping track of my man, nobody whose ever worked for Barack ever slipped up and referred to him as “my husband,” like your girl, Condi.  I know my man, but it must be sheer torture wondering whether your husband has a taste for brown sugar, honey.  Barack certainly does, and as you can see, (with both hands on her hips) that’s one mission he accomplished when he married me.

Mrs. Bush: (Flustered) Well I never…

Mrs. Obama: That probably explains alot.  Can we wrap this up?

Mrs. Bush: Last on our tour is the Diplomatic Reception Room, which serves as an entrance to the White House from the South Grounds for the members of the first family and for visiting dignitaries and ambassadors arriving to officially present their credentials to the President.  Y’all can use this room to pray to Mecca five times a day and receive all your terrorist supporters like Ahmadinejad and Hamas.

Mrs. Obama: Diplomacy.  Now that’s another concept I am certain y’all aren’t familiar with.  How could you be…what with your preoccupation with preemptive war and indiscriminate bombing of defenseless civilians and all.  It’s hard to find time to grapple with the complexities of international law and the rules of war when your wars are just shameless grabs for oil and economic supremacy.

Mrs. Bush: Mrs. Obama, that concludes the official tour. Is there anything else you’d like to see?

Mrs. Obama: You mean other than seeing you, Lynn Cheney, and Mrs. Rumsfeld visiting your husbands in federal prison?

Mrs. Bush: Yes.

Mrs. Obama: I’d really love to see you carry your flat ass upstairs and pack.  Your time’s up.

RNC Opens: Cindy McCain and Laura Bush’s (humorous) appeal

The miscreants behind this year’s Republican National Convention belatedly recognized that celebrating the ruling classes triumph over fair taxation and the destruction of the social safety net would look questionable juxtaposed with the disastrous flooding and carnage on the Gulf Coast.  Seeking to soften their perceived image as greedy capitalists with the American public, they trotted out Cindy McCain and Laura Bush to make a brief and seemingly heartfelt appeal:

 

Mrs. McCain: Thank You.  I am so honored and so proud to be standing next to Mrs. Bush.  As we  work together to extend our support to relief efforts in the gulf, as each of the gulf coast governors just expressed to us, their challenges will continue in the days ahead, but everything will be fine as long as our disaster capitalist cronies continue receiving no-bid contracts and reap record profits from doing a half-assed job undoing the damage of Hurricanes that God fortuitously sends their way.

 

I am sure that you’ve heard of another disaster hitting America today—Hurricane Palin and her daughter’s tacky, trailer park pregnancy.  17-year-old Bristol Palin deserves our pity and support in this trying time.  As John has been saying for the last several days, its time to take off our Republicans hats and get Bristol’s boyfriend a jimmy hat.  Together, we can prevent this girl from getting knocked up again.

 

In that spirit, we’d like to ask that you go to a website—it’s called birth control, fool.com and give the largest contribution that you can give.

 

Mrs. Bush:  I thank the heavenly father for the morning after pill. As the First Lady, I took the opportunity to smuggle some into the country from overseas before George legalized it in the U.S. God only knows how many babies Jenna and Barbara would have had after all their drunken carousing without it. 

 

 

Mrs. McCain: Speaking of the morning after pill, I told my girls that I woulda disinherited their spoiled little assess, like I did my sisters, if they pulled a stunt like this.

 

Mrs. Bush: Anyway, y’all, we Americans are known for coming to the aid of their fellow citizens when crises such as these arise.  Today, and in the coming days, let’s work together to provide those affected with the means to save face and continue their deceptive, racist, and demagogic campaign for continued Republican control of the White House.

 

Thank You and God Bless You