The NASCAR Driver, The Comedian, & Tiger Woods

             

    You've probably seen the commercial that's been on television of late in which NASCAR driver Brian Vickers, comedian Kevin Nealon, and professional golfer Arnold Palmer extol the virtues of a prescription drug that's helped each one of them manage certain individual health considerations.

That commercial has been so successful that a similar new commercial has just been produced.  Like the first one, it features a NASCAR driver, a comedian, and a professional golfer.   

Here's a sneak preview:

Scene opens with NASCAR driver walking on the race track.

Brian: I'm Brian Knickers, NASCAR driver.  Why am I called "Brian Knickers?" Because Perry is Jewish and  doesn't know a damn thing about NASCAR, so he just mangled my name "Brian Vickers" for this stupid parody.

Shift to comedian.

Carrot Top: I'm Carrot Top, comedian.  If you can call me that.

Finally to golfer.

Tiger: And I'm Tiger Woods, once successful professional golfer who has played lately as well as Grandma Walton. Know what the three of us have in common?

Brian:  We talked to our brokers about investing in Xarbelto. I had a serious cash shortage after my last divorce and I needed an investment that was going to pay off fast!

Tiger:  That's why I invested in Xarbelto too.  Oh boy, is that ever why I invested in Xarbelto too!  

Brian:  Xarbelto has been proven to return excellent financial results because its manufacturer has a sales/marketing team of unscrupulous slime balls expert at dispensing illegal perks to corrupt doctors to induce them to prescribe Xarbelto to whomever they can, regardless of whether anything's actually wrong with them.

Carrot Top:  And I invested in Xarbelto because I'm a goofy novelty act that wore razor thin in less than one tick of the atomic clock and somehow I've gotta eat! Xarbelto has been proven to produce substantial returns for people on the fringes of show business whose lack of cash has been caused expressly by lack of talent. 

Both Carrot Top and Brian join Tiger Woods at a patio table overlooking a golf course. 

Tiger: Hey, I'm glad we could all get together.  Any one of you guys got any dough you can lend me?

Brian:  Cut it out, Tiger.  At least until we see what Xarbelto closes at today.

Carrot Top: You know, guys,  I tried investing in another drug called Warburton but my portfolio took  a beating.  The Warburton sales team didn't know what to do. They were providing doctors with actual medical information, not getting them laid!

Brian:  Yeah, they didn't even know how to blackmail a doctor when necessary. Hell, the day the Ashley Madison thing broke, Xarbelto stock went up 37 points!
   
Waitress:  You fellas want anything else?

Tiger: I'll have another Tiger Woods.

Waitress: I'm sorry, Mr. Woods, but there is no such thing, 

Tiger: Who gives a shit?  Nobody else at this table has a drink named after them!   

Carrot Top: Oh yeah?  I'll have a carrot juice. So fuck you, Woods!

Next comes a montage of Tiger Woods, Brian Knickers, and Carrot Top on the golf course --- teeing off, putting, and riding in their carts.

Announcer:   As with any investment, past performance does not guarantee future returns. This is especially true with Xarbelto because we're not really sure the stuff does anything. It may be a sugar pill. Some investors may experience a bleeding of cash and in some cases severe hemorrhaging of cash should the government push deeply into our practices, so make sure to vote Republican. Before starting investment in Xarbelto, tell your broker about any prior lawsuits you have filed, ethical principles you may have, and your tolerance for being fucked with.

All three are now putting on the 18th green.

Brian: You know, Xarbelto has been prescribed over 11 million times in the U.S. by doctors bought off with exotic junkets, drugs, and hot sex.

Carrot Top: And that number is growing. 

Tiger blows a three inch putt.

Tiger: Like my score, damn it!  You guys sure you can't float me some scratch?

Announcer: Ask your broker, financial adviser, or one of these three greedy bastards about Xarbelto. 

Tiger approaches the camera.

Tiger: Investing in Xarbelto was the right move for us.  Unless the stock market tanks between now and January 1, then I'm SOL!

Announcer:  If you can't afford your investment in Xarbelto, please don't contact the company. We won't even talk to you.  We barely talk to Mr. Woods anymore. 

Brian (to Carrot Top): Poor guy.  He'll never get a drink named after him now!

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U. S. Open House

The U.S. Open Golf Tournament is being played this week at par five distance from my front door, and this is surprising news to most people. The fabled Merion Golf Club is not in Merion at all,  a neighborhood where much of the blood is so blue you could use to sign the Declaration of Independence, but rather directly adjacent to modest Havertown PA, where I live.  

Many feel this is the greatest thing that's ever happened around these parts, but I'm not so sure. Traffic is jammed, roads are closed, and restaurants and businesses operating at SRO capacity. What's so Open about all that?

Still, opportunities abound to pick up extra money in and around the tournament, and some folks are renting their homes out for the week to tourney attendees looking to save money on  a hotel. Since my house is so close to the course, I decided to jump on that option myself, but there was a problem. Most people renting out homes find someplace else to live for the week, but I frankly can't afford that.

So, me and Mr. and Mrs. Frank Lumpkin from Sioux Falls ND are spending the week together at my humble abode in humble Havertown!

"Hey, Frank!  Clara!  You guys going over to the course today?" I hollered yesterday morning, sitting at the breakfast table in my stained blue bathrobe and several days' old underwear. 

"Yes,  Perry," said Clara.  "That's kind of the reason why we're here, you might remember, to see the Open."

"I knew that!" I replied.  "Say, you guys think you could  pick me up some pop-tarts on the way back?  No rush!"

They seem like such a nice couple, the Lumpkins, but frankly I didn't know how to plan for their stay beyond doing a little light dusting, cleaning the crapper, and stocking up on Miracle-Whip.  You see, the Lumpkins are of the gentile persuasion, and I wasn't sure of their tastes, especially when it comes to alcohol. 

"Since you guys aren't Jewish," I said to them, "I figured maybe you like to drink it up.  What  kind of booze should I get for you?

"Perry, neither my wife nor I drink alcohol." 

"Go figure. And I do drink!  Hah, so much for stereotypes!"

The Lumpkins have been spending all day and a lot of the night over at Merion, so they're hardly ever at the house.  I can't figure out why they're never around,  except that these two must love golf almost as much as Tiger Woods loves bimbos!

"Say, Frank, are you guys any good at golf yourselves?" I asked the two of them yesterday evening. "After all, at your ages and with Clara's stout build, it's got to be difficult to get around an entire 18 holes!"

"Perry, I am a scratch golfer, and Clara is a  7 handicap." 

"I'm not bad at golf either," I said. "On the 16th at City Line Mini, I can get it through the windmill in under three strokes! Get it? The Windmill! LOL!"

Today the Lumpkins announced they'd be moving over to a hotel for the rest of the Open. They don't even want back any part of the money they paid for the rest of the week.

Once again, go figure!

"Sorry to see you go, guys," I shouted to the Lumpkins as they hastily packed their bags and sped off to a waiting cab.  "Should you see Tiger Woods,  please tell him there's a room open if he's interested. Free Pop-Tarts!"

"Oh, and Frank, Clara?  Make sure and tell Tiger that at La Maison Block, bimbos R welcome!"

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Sure I can keep my mouth shut, big guy!