I just read that Tiger Woods said he was talking to President Trump after his recent car wreck. Let me just process this for a minute. Tiger gets into an accident, and a former President of the United States of America calls him to see if he’s okay. Yesterday, I stubbed my toe on the leg of my coffee table so hard that my vision blurred, and the only notification I got on my phone was an automated email from Old Navy telling me that cargo shorts were on sale.
The Disparity of Human Connection
It is so deeply unfair. I am sitting here in my apartment, completely alone, stressing about Kirk Cousins’ contract like I said in my last post, and Tiger Woods has world leaders checking in on his well-being. I wish I had a direct line to someone important when minor inconveniences happen to me. “Hello, Mr. President? Yes, it’s Kip. The deli put mayonnaise on my sandwich even though I specifically asked for mustard. I am emotionally compromised and need federal assistance.”
I Would Settle for a Text Back
I dont even need a politician. I would settle for the guy who delivers my mail to just nod at me occasionally. Tiger Woods is surviving major vehicular trauma and still has a better social life than I do on my best day. It makes me want to cry into my keyboard. I’m glad he’s recovering, but the sheer flex of having presidential check-ins is destroying my already fragile self-esteem. Im going to put my phone on silent, not that it matters, because nobody is calling me anyway.
