Rumor is backstage at the Jay-Z/Justin Timberlake concert, Tiger Woods’s girlfriend, skier Lindsay Vonn, cheated on Tiger with a tall handsome man. Not to go into details, but, like Tiger, she should have also gotten a two-stroke penalty for making a ball move.

Finally it's cooling off. This September I was sweating like Syrian president Assad watching "Zero Dark Thirty."  

Why it has never been more fun to watch Tiger Woods

It is impossible to quantify how great Tiger Woods is as a golfer and all the good he has done for golf. In addition to bringing more money and fans, he has forced the competition to become fitter and better lest Tiger leaves them in the dirt.

Long before the Thanksgiving scandal, there was a young bartender I became friendly with who was a scratch golfer and worshipped everything Tiger Woods did. How could someone, he reasoned, be so great at such a great sport and not be great himself? This young guy pulled every golf string he knew so that he could volunteer to park the player’s cars and carry their bags from the parking lot at the Buick Open at Torrey Pines.

When that weekend was over, this guy absolutely despised Tiger Woods. Not only did Tiger not tip, he went out of his way to be rude and condescending to the staff. And his then-wife Elin, he said, was even worse.

The old Tiger was boring. His lying façade of a wonderful family man whose only fault was swearing, quite frankly, sucked. The lying and cheating oily scumbag who nails Waffle House waitresses by the bushel and drinks like a carp is a freaking blast.

Next to multiple-rapist, Ben Roethlisburger, cheaters Barry Bonds and Alex Rodriguez, Tiger Woods may be the biggest a-hole in sports. Even Rocco Mediate, who most describe as the nicest guy in golf, said Tiger refused to sign some of his memorabilia from their amazing 2008 US Open battle here in San Diego.

Even his phony relationship with Lindsay Vonn is fun. What? Are you saying the guy  --whose CBS ratings were hurt for being such an utter sleaze bag - is suddenly dating the one pretty blonde CBS wants to promote for their winter Olympics coverage? How could that be a set-up? 

Please, Tiger and CBS and Nike, do not urinate on my head and tell me it is precipitation.

No, hating Tiger Woods for being the crass and sleazy cheater that he is only makes him better to watch. If he plays great it is still great. If he throws a tantrum and implodes it is awesome because now I/we hate him. No, really, hate him. 

Truth be told I am not that big a fan of Sergio Garcia. While not as bad as Tiger, he is also a whining spoiled brat. That said, as observant as Tiger is, there is no way he didn’t know he was screwing up Sergio’s backswing when he pulled out his wood.

Is it too bad one of the greatest athletes of all time, Tiger Woods, also happens to be a foul-mouthed, lying, cheating, cheap, surly, self-absorbed flatulent a-hole? Yes. Could he be a lousier role model for kids? No.

But he sure is fun to watch. 

Saw some videos of great comedians talking about their worst bombings, and it occurred to me how lucky and easy I had it.

As I now just focus on the writing and don’t do much stand up, I didn’t realize how hard it is for most to start. To be candid, my stand up score started at about a 5 and built slowly over a couple of years to nights of the occasional 8. Never hit a 10 like Richard Pyror or Sam Kennison or Steve Martin, but a strong 8.

From watching these videos it is clear that many comedians spent years with acts that were 2’s and 3’s. Me? I started out as a 4, but worked hard and immediately became a solid 6. As a result, I really only had one bad bomb. 

That bomb is what turned me from a lazy 6 to a harder working 7 occasional 8.

Bombing is as bad as an emotional experience can be that doesn’t involve death or serious injury. You are giving your soul to a bunch of drunk strangers and asking them to please find you amusing and they respond with anger and hatred to tell you how wrong you are.

Keep in mind, the audience has paid money. One time I had a grumpy old man who I overheard complain loudly to the people he was with;

“These comedians will suck, I’ve never heard of any of them.”

He sat there scowling leaning back with his arms folded across his chest right in front of the stage. It worked out pretty well for me because I went right up to him, imitated how silly he looked and then asked;

“So you’re starring in “Grumpier Old Men III” are you?

But that is the attitude of many comedy club audience members. “Hey, I paid my ten bucks, now where the hell is Robin Williams?”

The night I bombed was so horrible because it was my own fault. It wasn’t really the audience’s fault, I really sucked. The week before I had my first solid 8 and I got cocky. Normally I write the jokes down, memorize them and then rehearse them until I can’t mess up.  With a little time allowed for winging it with the audience or abusing a heckler, most of it was solid and polished.

No matter how great Eric Clapton is, I would not want to hear him making up a song as he went along. (Not comparing myself to Clapton by the way) Yes, he improvises on the solos, but the songs are the same.

As hard as it is for me to belive, there are a ton of people out there who honestly think Letterman, Leno, O'Brien, Fallon, Kimmel and Ferguson and Stewart Colbert are making up their jokes on the spot. Leno goes through hundreds of jokes to come up with that night's 25 joke monologue. 

In all my infinite comedy wisdom, I decided to go up without anything prepared. After all my “Hi, where are you from?” lame jokes bombed, because I had nothing prepared even if they said San Diego, I thought, OK, tell them a topical joke you wrote today. The usual “Paris Hilton is a slut” or “Kim Kardashian has a fat ass” Nothing.

The unwritten rule in stand up is the audience will give you one bad joke. If they’re nice, they’ll give you a second bad joke in a row. By three in a row, you are toast.

By this time I was on my fifth bummer. At this point if I had channeled Bill Cosby before the ugly sweaters, it would not have made any difference. This audience had turned on me. Now the pain became physical. My throat tightened and they could hear it. Sweat formed. Lots of it. Face got red. Hand shook.

By the time I walked off the stage to mostly silence, smattered boos and sarcastic applause – yes, you can actually tell when applause is sarcastic – I had full-blown gone into shock. My body tried to shut down as if I had received a life-threatening wound.

Best thing that ever happened to my routine.

If you’re a skier or a surfer, until you eat it really painfully, you aren’t going to learn. Your body has to tell your brain: “Listen, douche-bag, I am not going through that again, so figure out how to not do that again.”

The morale? Everyone should bomb once in their life.