Forget Superman, Where's Lois Lane when You Need Her?

My kingdom for an investigative reporter. The lack of one may eventually cost us ours.

In this day and age, a reporter should be savoring life. There are computers. There are countless ways to fact check. With blogs and twitter and syndicates and feeds, those who want to know and aren't willing to settle for spin, or pedal spin, should be at the top of their game.

And talk about job security, between investigating bills, investigating the campaigns and fact checking the materials put forth by our Congress, by our courts, by our entertainers and our sports heroes; there's scarely be time to eat. So I'm asking reporters to put on their walking shoes, not because I want to hold feet to the fire, but because we can't safeguard our liberties if we buy a bill of goods!

These days, reporters cover the story but they don't investigate. As a columnist, it seems dangerous to accuse a class of people I presumably long to belong to, of falling down on the job. However I see a pattern and it is disturbing.

Tiger Woods was a philandering cad for years and everyone in the sports world that covered him apparently knew it. Nobody reported it until it was revealed by Tiger's actions. Apparently, it was a gentleman's agreement to not reveal Tiger wasn't a gentleman, agreed to by those covering him from Nike to NBC to Sports Illustrated.

Anyone with eyes could see that the skinny speedy Mark McGuire of his early days transformed into a wall of highly stretched bulging flesh and that such a radical body change probably wasn't the result of mere diet and exercise. Steroid abuse in baseball was rampant. Yet it wasn't discussed execpt as a rumor, a vicious rumor, as the path of outsiders and cheaters. No one belled the cat until Canseco.

The Collusion in baseball by the Chicago "Black" Sox has nothing on the collusion by the current sports media to ignore both of these stories "for the good of their respective sports." What else aren't they telling?

Even a cursory glance at the book Game Change indicates there were many unreported stories about candidates that might have made a difference in the horserace of last year. Who knows what hasn't been reported?

The Edwards in the 2007-2008 election race were complete frauds and their staff knew it, and many in the media suspected it. No one investigated it. No one reported it until the National Enquirer brought forth pictures and proof. The stories of the dandy Edwards, of his affair, of his wife's meltdowns, reveal character. The omission of all these stories until a year after the election when a best selling telling book can be marketed, also reveals the lack of character.

Freedom of the press was designed to create a watchdog for the government and the public, not a lapdog for the former that viciously keeps the rest of us off the lawn.

The Acorn scandal has been swept under the rug. No one is seriously upset that tax payer dollars are funding a corrupt organization willing to allow for the immigration and prostitution of minors. No one feels troubled by the President's affiliation with such a morally bankrupt organization, just like no one should be troubled by the affiliation with Rev. Wright or William Ayers. There's no story because there's no AP reporter.

The Healthcare bill has been so clandestine and corrupt a process, it would not be believable as satire. But the cause, the need to create SOMETHING, trumps actual demanding of analysis by the media experts. They're just so happy there will be a bill, it doesn't matter what's in it or how much it costs or what it covers. Again, the power of the press to withhold is even more powerful than its power to expose.

For most of two weeks, the President stayed quiet about the bomber on Christmas day. No one has pinned him down about specifics that will be changed or actual mistakes that were made, they're just eager to say, "He said the buck stopped here! He admitted to the mistake." No one is asking what actually was the error, who made it, and why aren't they fired or at least questioned. The Washington Post went so far as to op-ed a piece anonymously about how the President should take questions from the press about these concerns, and that it is lamentable that he hasn't. But no one is asking any questions anyway. They're just hoping the commander in chief feels chatty at the next press gathering.

We live in an age of opine and talking points, where a clever blog with a crafty take can set the narrative template for political thinking. We pretend nothing is wrong if we can find someone on the dial or on the air we agree with in principle. The problem is opinions are not facts. When opinion substitutes for gumshoe reporting, the compelling story and winning ideology trumps character and trumps truth.

We can hope for the truth to will out, but I'd feel more secure about our political process, about our freedoms and about our government, if a few good reporters would deliberately go about the hard process of connecting the dots and informing the people in a timely fashion; long before writing a tell all book.

Milking Tiger

Last week, Tiger had contracts with Gatorade, Gillette, Tag Heur, Pepsi and Nike and many others. Before, he was the family guy driving the shining black Buick with his supermodel wife and beautiful kids. Then, it was revealed he had a bevy of women that rivaled Bill Clinton. Now, everyone including Tiger can agree that leaving pleading messages on multiple answering machines to “Erase the tapes” was Nixon type stupid.

Today, his sponsor list has probably dropped into negative numbers. With the number of women coming forward, restarting that gravy train of cash becomes Wood’s number one priority. In light of his desperate need, I offer the following suggestions for reversing his fiscal fortunes.


Solution #1: Humility and Ecology as a form of civic penance.

Picture the following ad with a split screen scene: Tiger on one side testifying, “Before, I drove a big SUV and cheated on my beautiful wife. I was dumb dumb dumb.” The offending SUV pollutes on other side.

“Then, I got caught.”

Pan to Al Gore scolding Tiger and lecturing him using his convenient Oscar winning video. Tiger is attentive, nodding, taking notes.

Next, we see Woods at his home in the morning chasing off a paparazzi. Tiger then digs through the garbage himself to find a coke can that hasn’t been recycled and makes sure the plastic and aluminum are properly sorted. (Promo dollars from Coke-cola for the spot ad without the negative affiliation).

“Now, I’m smart.” and the screen pulls away to show Tiger with his wife and kids all tucked snugly in a SmartCar as they drive off into the sunset.

Solution #2: Tiger has been a bad boy.

Go with it. There are beer commercials a waiting. The set is simple. Tiger holds an imported expensive exotic beer and smiles. Countless beautiful male and fem fatale fans gather to provide company, clearly happy to see him at the bar. “Drink this and you too can have scores of super model women, or at least be in the presence of people who you think look like super models after a few rounds.”

Alternatively, Viagra is currently camped on line two just waiting for Woods to sign on the dotted line to say, “When tonight’s the night for you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you.” Finish the plug with Tiger looking at the camera with that iconic smile and saying, “Hey, I’m a golfer. You got to finish the round.” And show him walking off the greens, club over his shoulder and a slew of hottie caddies in tow.

These commercials wouldn’t quite make the current laughable version of family hour but Tiger could hardly be charged with further coarsening of our culture any more than Bob Dole did by ogling skanky Brittany Spears and talking ED. A fabulously wealthy celebrity lacks moral standards. Move along people. Nothing to see here. Nothing new anyway.

Solution #3: Emergency

Tiger seems to have 911 on speed dial these days. I smell a great link in with On-Star. “Hello, this is Tiger.” “Hello Mr. Woods. Is this an accident involving alcohol or an assault by someone armed with a five iron?” He’s crouched in his car. Bonus cash from Volvo or whomever agrees to provide the vehicle. There is clear violent motion of golf clubs outside the windows but it’s muted and tastefully done.

Voice over:” On-Star. We’re available 24-7 even when you can’t reach your cell phone. (Show a woman’s hand flushing cell phone down the toilet). Getting a plug for the mobile phone might be a tough sell but there’s probably some start up company willing to pony up for the spot.

The ad closes with a final crossover coming from that All State guy walking up and mentioning that the car and the clubs are covered, and that he's in good hands.

So Tiger, take advantage of this crisis. This turn of events (admittedly brought on all by your own bad self) will allow for a whole new chapter in your story and when it settles down, you'll have a suitable resume to run for congress. In the meantime, if you need a ghost writer to help you carve out the sorted details in your tell all so you can turn a few more bucks and make the TV talk show rounds, I’m available. ($50,000.00 down, plus all travel expenses, 100,000.00 upon completion and 5% of the gross). If I'm going to cast ethical scruples aside like those super models, I'm going to at least be smart about it; a bargain, yes, but not cheap.

One last dig. Last week, Tiger announced he was giving up golf to work on his marriage. I'm no marriage counselor but I'm thinking, it isn't the golf he needs to give up.
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