Amy Mickelson, the wife of PGA choke artist Phil Mickelson, has been diagnosed with breast cancer. It’s a really tough break for the former NBA cheerleader that married one of the wealthiest golfers on the planet. But some turd poacher on Yahoo! says that everyone on the tour should donate money to Amy’s cause because…because he was coming up on deadline, I guess. I know the feeling. From the Roy S. Johnson blog; the “s” stands for “sycophant”, apparently:
Phil Mickelson won’t be [at this week's tournament] because his wife, Amy, has been diagnosed with breast cancer and he’s rightfully decided to put down the clubs and be there for her.
What are the rest of you guys going to do?
Offering your prayers and sympathy is great. Those who are close to him (and even those who aren’t) will no doubt reach out to him personally. To do nothing more than that would be a crime.
Whoa, hang on there buckaroo. She’s not my piece-of-ass wife.
[T]his is a unique opportunity. What if each golfer donated 5% of his winnings this weekend to the continued research into better treatment and a cure? What if the caddies pitched in, too? And fans, maybe each should be asked to bring $5 bucks for the kitty – and wear their own pink, too.
You won’t believe this, but you can look it up: there are other diseases out there besides cancer. Just because some famous person gets sick–someone who’s going to have no issue affording state-of-the-art treatment, no less–everyone in the media wants to cry when other people’s wallets don’t start flying open. And enough of the damn pink already. Unless you’re some descendant of Bret “The Hitman” Hart, YOU DON’T OWN PINK. I can’t wait until I get Alzheimer’s and forget that I ever read that douchebag. Or prostate cancer. Whatever puts me out of my misery. Maybe I should just stand in Donte’ Stallworth’s driveway for a while…