The luck of the Tigress - Anthea McGibbon

Roar, roar and roar some more until you get the Tiger to a slow and tempered hum – whimpering in a corner.
For sure Elin as a woman, with few-male instincts might have known the kind of man she fell for.
He’s rich, he’s black, a bit good-looking, nearly great body, he’s rich, he’s black. He certainly did not carry as much security weight around like President Obama does – is this a good enough reason for him being easier prey, one wonders.
Still after reading today’s Gleaner on Elin Nordegren crying about the “hell she went through” adrenaline rushes upward to my brain.
Simply because in a society like America, highly materialistic and all, I fail to relate to her being so naive to not have understood the assignment she took. A society where many live to to bring to an abase all black men, or men of negro descent on their way to success. Let alone Tiger made it in a field fit for adventure – no theory on the reservations of the sport of golf.
Don’t get me wrong I empathise, but fail to see any cause for sympathy. I find the entire scenario pathetic actually.
Given the culture of the society, and expressed temperament of the Tiger, in all of the fracas caused by the international media, I only can think of how lucky this Tigress has been on her exit from the Woods.
She enters the jungle by its rules, acquires a few scratches that now serves as medals. During this time she manages to dominate a few other animals in both neck of the woods. No wounds are visible or spoken of, nor seen to be bleeding. Yet, at some unseen command she sees the light of day from just behind the mouth of the cave, and roars so loud, there is need for the Tiger to bring on an open display of “regret” and spill his guts in public domain to others more guilty than himself and mind you where few fellow tigers reign with well scrubbed spots.
Then, its still not enough, as after nine whole months, another baby is not on the way – what instead is birthed is an airing for divorce – more power to the blonde-haired feline.
She beats the cunningness of the foxiest cat — In the end she walks with millions after “bearing and forbearing” till a most opportuned time. She badgers the Tiger, and still manages to gain sympathy even from persons who would have done the same volunteering to lick wounds that to now are far from being seen especially in comparison to the scars she left on the Tiger now double-whipped in public. We are now left to wonder why men go on the way they do.
What a life! What a path to a blonde feline’s “success”. Yet I wonder with genuine love being the real reward – who really is the winner?
I am not at liberty to say if Tiger Woods was well fed at home, or just given only raw meat which just isnt enough, during growth or as an adult. One, two or three others – I still am not sold on his greed.
Tiger Woods, I’d say its time to start the hunt for your inner you before you fall prey to another bear claw misplaced on another purring cat.

Yes, his cougar awaits.

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Anthea

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