From the Green Room: Larry King on Health Care Reform

Big news: health care.  And by that I don’t mean the private duty nurse I employ to keep my keister clean. I am one of the millions of Americans who desperately need coverage.  I’m at the age now where, every time I’m at the urinal, it’s like I’m peeing in Morse Code. 

I’ve had my share of medical procedures.  Over the past 15 years I’ve had a carotid endarterectomy, cataract surgery and I got more bypasses than the Santa Monica Freeway.  The CT Scan of my thoracic cavity looks like a bowl o’ Lo Mein at Big Wong’s. 

I’m not big on cosmetic surgery, but over the years I did have to get a couple of scrotum lifts.  Because when the package starts looking like a corduroy bowling ball cover, you gotta get some work done.  The most important thing is to have a good doctor.  Otherwise, you’d have to get all your Oxycontin scrips the way you used to in the old days…from your barber.

I’m more concerned about these “Death Panels.”  I don’t want to even think about a “Living Will,” because I still possess a pretty strong “Will to Live.” I just don’t know which one of my old ladies to give the power of attorney.  The last thing I want to see before I croak is all of them in a feeding frenzy, like a school of carp fighting over a can of biscuit dough.  Still, I’m happy that the new health care bill passed because they way I look at it, all the ex-wives are gonna need coverage, just in case a couple of ‘em sprain an ankle diving for the wall to kick out my plug. 

Hygiene, North Dakota:  Hippocrates:  Ancient Greek Physician?  Or God of those who pretend to have admirable principles but behave otherwise?  Your thoughts.  


From the Green Room: Tiger's Sexy Texts

Just when we think we’ve heard the last of all the brouhaha surrounding Tiger Woods, the Jesuses of Journalism at the New York Post save us by revealing the sexy text messages sent by America’s favorite Cablanasian PGA Pro to his porn star girlfriend.  Are they salty?   Like a street corner-vended soft pretzel floating in a pickle jar.  Good taste and decorum prevent us from printing the more graphic ones here, but in the interest of truth in media, herewith are some of the less offensive ones:

Aug 27th 2009
Tiger: Sent: 2:38 A.M.
Role playing is hot…I’ll be the randy, muscular stable boy, and you be Nancy Lopez.

Sept. 17th 2009
Tiger: Sent: 1:17 P.M.
I know that you’re a porn star and all…but you WERE a virgin before you met me, right?

Oct. 6th 2009  
Tiger: Sent: 2:09 P.M.
I love your boobs.  I’d like to go swimming with you, cos’ I know with you there, I’d never drown.

Oct. 31st 2009
Happy Halloween! Trick or Treat!  I’m your trick.  But I got a treat for you. You like Tootsie Rolls?

Nov. 2nd 2009
Tiger: Sent: 11: 18 P.M.
I know you said you want me to “Treat you like a whore.”  It would help if you worked as a correspondent for MSNBC.

Nov. 26th 2009
Tiger: Sent: 10:56 A.M.
Having Thanksgiving Dinner at around 3PM, and one of the things I’m most thankful for is that Elin has no idea I’m having sex with you.  

From the Green Room: Tiger's Advice for Obama

Tiger Woods, whose approval rating was not the greatest back in November, is planning to make his comeback at the Masters in April.  Barack Obama, whose approval rating is even worse than Tiger’s ever was, needs to make a comeback himself.  I think Tiger could provide the President with some advice on how to get back to the "Hopey Changey" feeling that we all experienced back when he was first inaugurated. 

Therefore, herewith, I humbly submit Tiger Woods’s Top Seven Tips For President Barack Obama:

7: The unemployment rate is 10 percent.  Have them put you down for 5.
6: Your health care bill is like teeing off into a water trap.  Take the mulligan.     
5: Never take advice from Caddies or Vice Presidents.  They’re both morons.  If they knew what they were doing, you’d be holding THEIR bag.
4: Afghanistan is like a sand trap.  Get out quick and rake it when you’re through.
3: Your birth certificate should be treated like a golf scorecard.  Don’t turn it in until the END of your presidency.
2: When you get a heckler in your gallery…get a Scandinavian woman to beat him like he had sex with a cocktail waitress.
1: Being a tall, skinny, mixed-race man with a big smile will get you far in life.  DON’T EFF IT UP.
 

 


From the Greenroom: TMI at IITM

Sitting here at my workstation under the flatscreen TVs showing the High Def Fox Business Network Feed of the Imus in the Morning Program, I think I just heard Warner Wolf say he sleeps in the nude.

There are just some things we don’t need to know.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Warner.  He’s the absolute best; a true living legend, and one of the single greatest people on the planet.  But now, laser-etched in my mind, is the picture of his naked shmeckle resting against the 600-thread count sheets on his King Sized bed at Wolf Manor.  It conjures images of what it might look like if the Lucky Charms Leprechaun was in a porn movie.

All this leads me to postulate on some other “secrets” of the Imus in the Morning staff that would be best left…well, secrets.  Herewith are some things you might not know…and most likely would rather not know about your favorite morning folk:

During commercial breaks, Lou Rufino gives himself mani/pedis with a clam knife.

Charles has a small growth under his left armpit that is actually his undeveloped twin brother “Eric.”

I get my back waxed every Thursday, and have had several sweaters made with the hair.

Bernard’s drag name is “Eva Braun.”

On Arbor Day, the entire staff gathers in a six-table “party room” for simultaneous high-colonics.

I told ya you wouldn’t want to know.

From the Greenroom: NCAA or Not, It's Always Mad Around Here

It’s that time again.  The NCAA Tournament Brackets are in and Tony has put together a pool that is being enthusiastically embraced by some, and shunned by others, accompanied by allegations of impropriety.  I think it has something to do with the fact that last year, his wife was the big winner.

But far be it from me to question Tony’s legitimacy.  He’s my friend…not to mention the fact I’m sure there were plenty of pools he wasn’t allowed to be in over the years.  Including the ones at the country clubs where I used to caddie.  Besides—I think he’s packing. 

I’m not all that familiar with the world of college athletics.  About as close as I ever came to playing any NCAA sport was an intramural Badminton league that I joined because I had a crush on the girl who was the captain of the team.  If I didn’t have Tony’s brackets to fill out, when asked for my final four, I would choose VASSAR, NASSAU COMMUNITY COLLEGE, APEX TECHNICAL SCHOOL and THE CULINARY INSTITUTE OF AMERICA. 

I wonder what the team mascot would be for the C.I.A.’s “Fighting Sauciers?”  A giant escargot with a chef’s hat?

I’m predicting that Gonzaga will take it all this year.  Only because I love the fact that there is actually an American University named “Gonzaga.” Though it’s named after a Jesuit saint, it sounds like some kind of medical term for an unusual growth.  As in, “I have to go to the doctor, I have a Gonzaga on the back of my neck the size of a baby’s head.”  It also resembles the name of a Japanese horror movie monster, as in, “Clear the streets!  Gonzaga is coming!  Gonzaga is coming!”

Let the madness begin.