At first it was funny. The news of Tiger Woods crashing his car, with vague bits of information flying about that eventually came together to reveal that possibly his wife, Elin, in a fit of rage and upset about “transgressions”, lost it, and found herself beating him with a nine-iron before he crashed into, first, a fire hydrant, and then a tree. Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t so funny, but the image of Tiger Woods being beaten to a pulp and looking like Wile E. Coyote folded up like an accordion was hard to forget.

The public had its twisted little fun and it should have ended there. But then the news media couldn’t leave well enough alone.  It dug deeper, and just had to locate all of the “transgressors” involved.

So the story goes on. It is now two weeks and counting. What I want to know is: Why can’t journalists do as good a job investigating hard news as they do digging up dirt on people’s personal lives?

It’s one thing for the media to report Tiger’s accident, quite another to report and interview the numerous bimbos coming out of the woodwork claiming they had affairs with him.

I thought for a moment that maybe calling the women bimbos was too harsh. At one point I said, well, what if Tiger’s first paramour just got caught up in a situation she couldn’t control? Who am I to judge? I’m talking about the P.R. woman from New York, who initially planned to hold a press conference with her sleazy attorney, Gloria Allred, but then cancelled it at the last minute. Sure, Woods must have paid her off, any fool would know that, but what if it was just one of those unfortunate situations?

As it turns out, she is a bimbo. Recently, she was seen on the news, being followed by a reporter and a cameraman as she walked down the street in skin-tight leggings, holding on to a new boy toy. While the camera was taping, she approached her apartment and realized she didn’t have her key. Well, no problem. She climbed up over her balcony and broke in. That seemed like bimbo action to me.

In the meantime, Tiger Woods’ former friend, Jesper Parnevik added his opinion on his “friend’s” affairs. He felt a need to tell the world what a bad guy he thinks Tiger is, and that he regrets ever having introduced him to Elin. Well, Parnevik turned out to be kind of a jerk himself by dissing a friend while he’s down. Just wait and see what happens to him if the couple patches things up.

Then, as if Tiger’s wife, Elin, didn’t have enough problems, her mother comes to visit, collapses at their home, and was rushed by ambulance to the hospital. Mom is so not helping.

And all the while, the news media are calling in their analysts to comment on Tiger’s gameplay on the course of life. All the P.R. and marketing people advise that Tiger’s best approach would be to come out, explain himself ASAP and put it behind him before he starts losing more endorsements. Psychiatrists weigh in and advise immediate treatment for his sex addiction. Even Tiger’s bimbos are giving their analysis and advice on his lovemaking and relationship problems.

No one is without advice for Tiger, so here is mine: Hey Tiger, you’re way too serious. It’s not like you molested children (or at least I hope not), so you still have a chance. Hire yourself a joke writer and come out on Letterman or Oprah and say, “Yes, I screwed up. That’s right, you heard me, I have had sex with other women, and I screwed up.” Then make jokes about it and browbeat yourself. People love that stuff. This is good advice; trust me.

In the meantime, let me help you by coming out with a vid and posting it on YouTube. I’m practicing my crying jag right now:  “Leave Tiger Woods Alone! Please! He’s a human being! You’re all lucky he plays golf for you, you bastards! Leave him alone!”

Don’t worry, Tiger, just get well soon. You can pay me later.