Laugh at these jokes or this puppy will not get a tummy rub . . . oh, yes he will, come heres widdle guy

We gonna top doggy this here froggy, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


The good news is King Tut has arrived in New York. The bad news is he is having an affair with his wife’s sister.


Larry King’s son’s former Little League coach was having an affair with Larry’s wife. You can tell your wife is having an affair with your Little League coach, when she refuses your advances for sex by yelling “Strike three, you’re out.”


In Connecticut, a man who was having a feud with the woman next door placed a phony ad from her on Craigslist claiming a bored soccer mom wants rowdy sex with as many men as possible. The man was charged with sexual assault, harassment, and with placing a really funny ad.


How is this for ingratitude? Yesterday, we celebrated Earth Day while, in Iceland, Earth is asking us to pull its finger.


Two more women have claimed they were sexually harassed by former action star, Steven Seagal. The good news for Seagal? He will play the lead role in “The Ben Roethlisberger Story.”


A sheriff’s office in Lake Tahoe thought a 61-year-old meth addict had a bomb in his anus. It turned out to be a vibrator. When asked why he had a vibrator up his rectum, the suspect replied: “I am a 61-year-old meth addict, why wouldn’t I have a vibrator in my rectum?”

So they dropped the charges of carrying a really concealed weapon.


Sandra Bullock’s husband, Jesse James, is undergoing sex rehab. In sex rehab they determine if you’re a sex addict. But Jesse doesn’t consider himself a sex addict, he prefers to think he has a bad case of restless penis syndrome.


Seven Eleven is launching their own beer called Game Day. Game Day is a much better name then their first idea for the name of the Seven Eleven beer: Face it, Your Life Sucks.


In New York, a couple abandoned their three-year-old boy in St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Shame on them, that is a horribly dangerous thing to do leaving a young boy so near to so many priests.



Since you asked:

Rick Reilly wrote a great article in “ESPN” magazine “What a Day at the Masters” highly praising Phil and Amy Mickelson and taking a few pot shots at Tiger Woods.

To his credit, Reilly has never liked Tiger and was happy to express it. He was writing a book on golf titled “Who’s Your Caddy” and Tiger was – what a shock -- rude and unhelpful, and Reilly tore into him for it.

Now that Phil Mickelson is everybody’s hero, and deservedly so - I have always been a huge “Lefty” fan, he is beloved in his hometown of San Diego - writers besides Reilly finally have the guts to rip Tiger Woods and declare what a jerk he has always been from day one.

Here is my question: where were these guys when everybody was still kissing Tiger’s butt? Of course some writers are attempting a tour of the high road by praising how loyal and devoted and dedicated a father and husband Phil Mickelson is, but we all know they are really taking aim at Tiger in a not-so-subtle way.

But, until now, was Nike such a bully and Tiger’s entourage so vindictive that it actually frightened the press from exposing what a nasty tool Tiger has been all along? Or are the golf writers just plain whimps? Me thinks it is a combination of both.

Nobody needs an immoral scoundrel, like Tiger, to compare to me what a great guy Phil Mickelson is. I’ve seen Phil up close and personal around town in restaurants and such to know he is a genuinely nice guy. So why did the press protect Tiger for so long? Sure, they hid behind praising Tiger’s golf game, but nobody had a problem pointing out how great Barry Bonds was at hitting home runs and that he treated bat boys like dirt. Why didn’t we know that about Tiger?

When the amazingly huge machine that is the 2008 US Open grinded through just two miles from my house at Torrey Pines, it left in its wake countless stinky rumors of how cheap, rude and sullen Tiger Woods and his entourage was with the all little folks: No tips, no smiles, no autographs, no appearances, no interviews, no pictures, no gifts of balls, tees hats or shirts, no jokes, no smiling, no graciousness nor any evidence of class whatsoever.

Meanwhile Phil Mickelson was doing all of that stuff and more.

Why didn’t anyone write about the awful Tiger back then? Did Tiger really have to get exposed for short-putting every bimbo in a cocktail waitress skirt for the press to grow a pair to write about the sleazy Tiger? You don’t turn into a hated scoundrel in one errant Thanksgiving drive.

Make no mistake, I do not contend to judge Tiger on my high moral horse based on his many and tawdry affairs. What happened there is between Tiger’s conscience and his wife, Elin. No, why I hate Tiger is because he and Nike so shamelessly and insincerely tried to spin our ability to forgive, and then he so utterly blew his cover.

It’s like why I hate Hillary Clinton. I do not hate Hillary Clinton for saying, when asked why she wasn’t content to be a house wife, Hillary snapped;

“I suppose I could sit around home baking cookies and serving teas.”

When the baking-cookies-Moms exploded in angry resentment, at the next press conference, Hillary showed up with – you guessed it – cookies and tea. That’s why I hate Hillary. Well, Tiger took the cookies and tea and threw them in our face, that’s why I hate Tiger Woods.

Granted, Tiger has been very Michael Jordan-like in his angry bullying of the press. Imply anything not great? No Tiger access. But come on, sports press, grow a spine.

Wanna know how I know Tiger Woods is, as the great Dan Jenkins wrote, graveyard dead? Thanks to that sage, wise, all-knowing and seeing 11-year-old, Ann Caroline, my lovely daughter. We pulled into the parking lot of the Mad Greek’s restaurant in Primm, Nevada, on our way to Brian Head, Utah. When we got out of the car, above us on a 30 foot wall of a Casino was the giant image of Tiger Woods looming over everyone.

When Ann Caroline saw it she simply burst out in loud and uncontrollable laughter. That is how much of a punch line Tiger Woods has become.

Tiger’s new and improved nice guy image fell apart like a wet paper bag in a monsoon during the Masters. The guy is, was, and will be a flat out foul-mouthed jerk. Period. Some people are jerks. Tiger is one of them. Good. Like I said before, we never really had a guy to hate in golf. Vijay Singh and Colin Montgomery are merely unlikable at best.

Even after proving he was sleazier and hornier than a drunken syphilitic goat, we were ready to take Tiger Woods back into our hearts if he just provided a modicum of modesty, regret and decorum at the Masters. We sports fans are a forgiving people.

And Tiger blew it like a volcano in Iceland. Tiger Woods “John Edwards” blew it. Tiger Woods “Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt” blew it. Tiger “Rod Blagojevich” blew it.

Now I truly hate Tiger Woods, I truly do. And good.

Hating Tiger Woods makes golf a whole lot more fun. Sports needs bad guys. Well, maybe we don’t need one as bad as Oakland Raiders owner, Al Davis, but we need bad guys. We need bad guys even when there isn’t a bad guy. In the glory days of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird, you had to hate one of them even after it turned out both were great guys in vastly different ways.

Same way with Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. Sadly, it turned out both were great guys, but everyone, myself included, a very young boy at the time, I hated Maris because the press hated Maris. The press can be wrong, but the players are not. The players loved Maris. The players on the PGA tour could barely hide their contempt for Tiger and the press was happy to write it off as professional jealousy. Sports press, Tiger isn’t the only one who really blew it.

Sorry Schnike, err, I mean Nike, we the people and the press have decided, once and for all, that we hate Tiger Woods with a passion. It will be good for golf. Maybe not so good for Nike’s bottom line, because nobody is going to buy Tiger’s stuff, but it will be good for golf. So maybe, Nike, you can use the voice of Tiger’s dead image in your next shameless commercial?

Now, on Sundays, the good guy is wearing black and the bad guy is wearing red.

Just bite it, Nike.