Twas the night of Thanksgiving and out of the house
Tiger Woods came a flyin’, chased by his spouse..
She wielded a nine iron and wasn’t too merry,
Cause a bimbo’s phone number was in his Blackberry.
He’d been cheatin’ on Elin, and the story progressed.
Woman after woman stepped up and confessed.
He’d been cheatin’ with Holly, and Jaimee, and Cori,
With Joselyn, and Kalika. The world had the story.
From the top of the Tour to the basement of blues,
Tiger’s sad sordid tale was all over the news.
With hostesses, waitresses, he had lots of sex,
When not in their pants, he was sendin’ them texts.
Despite all his cryin’ and beggin’ and pleadin’,
Tiger’s wife went investin’ — a new home in Sweden.
And I heard her exclaim from her white Escalade,
“If you’re gettin’ laid then I’m gettin’ paid.”
She’s not pouting, in fact,
she is of jolly good cheer,
Her prenup made Christmas
come early this year.
Excellent!
From Eddie Murphy “RAW” ... (Language bleeped)
And I was waiting in the line and I saw the Enquirer magazine while I was waiting in the line and I saw Johnny Carson on the front page.
There was a picture of him like this:
(Johnny’s crying face)
Then I said, “What’s up with Johnny?” I turned to the inside story and his wife was on the other page and she was like this:
(Wife’s smiling face)
And over her head it said, “Johnny’s wife wants half Johnny’s money.” I turned that s*** back to Johnny. (Johnny crying)
Then I started thinking about it. ... Half!
If you... If you have $5 and have to give somebody $2.50, you’d be upset.
Johnny had to have at least $300 million. And have to give up $150 million? And they wasn’t even married but ten years. And $150 million? Get ... Give me a f****** break.
What? What? And ladies ... Now, here’s a woman right here saying, “Right on!” Baby, that’s not fair. Not no $150 million.
I see a lot of you ladies going: (Indignant face) “Get all the money you can, s***! I’m glad she did get all that money. She earned it. She earned it. That ... You d*** right. She was married to him, she deserved that money.”
Get the f*** out of my face with that b*******. No. Stop it. No, don’t get me wrong. If you marry somebody and neither one of you have anything and you build $300 million together, you deserve half.
But Johnny was $300 million in when they met. And I’m quite sure she knew. Johnny says, “Hey, I’m Johnny.” She was like, “I know who you are, m***********.”
And they got married, broke up, s*** didn’t work out. And then he had to give her $150 million of his money.
I know a lot of housewives sitting out there going: (Indignant face) “You can’t put a price on what I do.”
But, ladies, if you marry a man with $300 million, you ain’t no regular housewife. You
ain’t got to clean the house no more. You get a maid. You ain’t cleaning s***! You marry a man with $300 million, you ain’t cooking. You’re eating out.
You marry ... You know how a lot of housewives gotta get jobs on the side to help make ends meet? He got $300 million, the ends are meeting like a m***********.
What you gonna do, get a job at a boutique on the weekends and s***? And say, “Here, Johnny. I made $70 put that with the rest. Now we have $300 million and $70. Because I want to do my share.”
No. All you have to do, you marry
a man with $300 million, is f*** your husband. That’s it! That’s your job. F*** your husband! That’s it. That’s ... Just f*** your husband. You fill out a W-2 ... they say, “What you do? You say, “I f*** my husband. That’s it.”
And I’ve had my share of p****. I have yet ... Even if the p**** was great and sparks shot out the woman’s a** and cannons blared
and the mountains crumble and the seas roared, no p**** is worth $150 million! No p****. I’d like to meet some p**** like that. Put the s*** on layaway.
That s*** scared the s*** out of me. Half? I was petrified.
Man, you know what’s real scary is that American women in the 80’s have become very business-conscious. Y’all the most resourceful and the most business-smart
women on the planet. Now, in the 80’s.
And it would be an asset to us, as American men, if you weren’t so vindictive. Because the two don’t match. Then, what’s really f***** up, is y’all the most loving people.
American women are all off into this romance and they genuinely fall in love with you. Now, love and money do not mix. The s*** don’t mix. Especially if you got a business-smart woman ...
You go up and say, “I never met anybody like you before.”
(Woman) “I never met anyone like you.”
(Man) “Why don’t we be together. Will you marry me?”
(Woman) “I thought you’d never ask.”
(Man) “Before we get married, why don’t you sign this prenuptial agreement.”
(Woman) “What do you mean, a prenuptial agreement?”
(Man) “That’s a contract that stipulates if we ever break up, you take what you had and I take what I had.”
(Woman) “First of all, I don’t give a f*** who
you are and what you have, OK? You got a lot of m************ nerve by asking me to sign a contract. There’s nothing a man can do for me that I can’t do for myself. You got a whole lot of ... I love you. Telling me to sign a contract
to show that I love you? If I need something, I can go to my family. My family takes care of me.”
And men hear all that s*** and we be like this, “OK. We don’t need no contract.”
And you don’t get a contract and get married without one and the s*** don’t work out
and you break up a year later.
She’s sitting around in the kitchen by herself, mad, trying to figure out a way to get even with your a**. “I can’t believe that m*********** did this to me! After all the shit I did ... All the things I did for that m*********** he do this to me? Him and his fat b**** can kiss my a**! I don’t give a s*** about either one of them. I don’t want s*** from him or her
and I don’t care. You know something? You know what I should ...? You know ...? Half! I’ll take half his shit!”
And they’ll get it. They’ll get half your money,
your house, your car, alimony, child support and your children.
You will be on the cover of the Enquirer like this: (Johnny’s crying face)
So be careful!
Excellent poem!
Twas the night of Thanksgiving and out of the house
Tiger Woods came a flyin’, chased by his spouse..
She wielded a nine iron and wasn’t too merry,
Cause a bimbo’s phone number was in his Blackberry.
He’d been cheatin’ on Elin, and the story progressed.
Woman after woman stepped up and confessed.
He’d been cheatin’ with Holly, and Jaimee, and Cori,
With Joselyn, and Kalika. The world had the story.
From the top of the Tour to the basement of blues,
Tiger’s sad sordid tale was all over the news.
With hostesses, waitresses, he had lots of sex,
When not in their pants, he was sendin’ them texts.
Despite all his cryin’ and beggin’ and pleadin’,
Tiger’s wife went investin’ — a new home in Sweden.
And I heard her exclaim from her white Escalade,
“If you’re gettin’ laid then I’m gettin’ paid.”
She’s not pouting, in fact,
she is of jolly good cheer,
Her prenup made Christmas
come early this year.
Great poem