We all said it. ALL of us. All of us, at some point Friday while watching Tiger Woods’ first press conference* since that happened, turned to whoever we were watching it with and asked, “Is Tiger really a robot?”
*I’ve watched a lot of press conferences in my life. That wasn’t a press conference. I’m only calling Woods’ thing a press conference because I can’t really think of a better definition without just making a word up.
Now, we all know that I watched it. This Tiger story is the gift that keeps on giving for those in the blogging business. So, inherently, we all know that I talked to people about the whole Tiger-being-a-robot thing.
Here’s the deal: we all like to joke about it, right? It’s fun. “I wonder when his creator programmed that sentence into his vocabulary? I wonder who’s golf swing they modeled his after when he was created in the lab? I wonder if any of those ladies noticed when they were, uh, with him?” It’s fun, you know?
I’m beginning to wonder, though, if we’re taking the whole thing a little too lightly.
What I mean to say is, are we selling ourselves short by just joking about Tiger being a robot? Is it possible that Tiger Woods really is a robot?
If you’ve read my analytical work before, you know that I try to exhaust all possible angles to get answers. I’m an analytical thinker. I don’t just assume, I discover. I dig. I skewer. I get answers. I’m ready to apply my processes to discovering for America, once and for all, if Tiger Woods was built piece by piece in a lab with the sole purpose of winning golf tournaments and running the table on every woman in the world.
Now, Austin and I discussed this on our radio show Saturday, and he was fairly dismissive. Whatever. I think I have sound reasoning.
Sign #1: His demeanor.
How it is robotic: It’s better to ask what about his demeanor isn’t robotic. He’s stoic in interviews. His facial expressions in press conferences not only don’t change, but I’m not sure his face actually moves. Any time he makes a joke, it’s followed by an unnatural, forced laugh that fades quickly back into the home screen face. He doesn’t sleep at night, he charges. Ok, I don’t know that for sure, but is it really that unbelievable?
How it isn’t robotic: The counter argument here are the numerous accounts of temper tantrums thrown by Woods on the golf course. You could say they show ’emotion,’ or whatever. I see through it. Technology these days is incredible. I’m pretty sure every Tiger temper tantrum was also executed by characters on the Tiger Woods games when shanking drives. I’m assuming they were programmed into him just like ‘Interview after Day 1 of the Masters’ was.
Sign #2: His golf game/successes
How it is robotic: His swing is perfect. His success through his first 13 years on tour is unparalleled. Remember when he just decided to change his swing back in 2003? Obviously a new disc. Everything is perfectly calculated: distance, wind, height and speed calculated in m.p.h, f.p.h., i.p.h., k.p.h, m.p.m., f.p.m, i.p.m. and k.p.m. If you don’t think any human is capable of making those conversions in his head, then, well duh, that’s the whole idea.
How it isn’t robotic: I know what you’re thinking. If he’s a robot, how does he lose? Why isn’t every shot perfect? Duly noted. But let me ask you something: is every pitch at a batting cage always perfect? Do A5 Assasin Droids occasionally miss their targets? Is it really that hard to believe that Tiger was set up on a PC mainframe, and that he sometimes quits unexpectedly, and it takes him a few minutes to get it back together because he has to keep hitting ‘End Now’ and then tell himself that no, he in fact doesn’t want to send an error report?
Sign #3: His sex life
How it is robotic: Look, I’m a man. As such, it’s inherent in me- just like every other man on this planet- to fancy myself a sex machine. Whatever. It comes with the, uh, territory. We all like to think we’re sex machines. Tiger Woods really is a sex machine. Like, literally. Not only is his sex count is the 40’s (and counting!), but you should read the things his mistresses said about him. Think of that one AC/DC song. The one about something that happens all something long. He’s like the Loch Ness Monster of the bedroom: there’s no possible way the things people say about him are really true. Well, not if he was a human.
How it isn’t robotic: I guess a logical counter argument would be that you’d think these women would’ve noticed, right? Wouldn’t they be shocked to find no sweat on him after hours of love making? But think about it like this: is a woman really going to complain if she was with a FREAKING SEX ROBOT? Plus, they had to know that he’d destroy (like, with missiles) them if they came out and announced what he was. Then they’d never get the sex machine again.
Look, folks, these are the facts. I didn’t invent them, I just explored them. Just know that when it all comes out, and I turn out being correct, I won’t say ‘I told you so,’ I’ll say 11110000 101010101 111 0101 0100 001010101 010101010101