Dear Jiggy Tiggy,
Dude, I have sat by long enough, withholding judgment, waiting for the "facts" to come out from amongst the loads of damning evidence against you. At first, I thought this story was all just some skank trying to get her 15 minutes of fame on. Then, it just kept going. And going. Like the Energizer Bunny. Now, it seems that you have majorly FUBAR'ed and fell back in it.
Let me say that I don't really follow golf, nor do I really even like you. I basically thought you had a yard long stick up your arse. But apparently, I was wrong. So wrong. It seems, in fact, that you have a freaky deaky streak. But, really, Tiggy, Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.? I, mean, what WERE you thinking?
Even though I thought you were a little too big for your britches, I took you to be a smart man. A man who knows better than to text his harem of mistresses, leaving a trail of evidence longer and larger than I hear your Mr. Johnson is. This ain't the 1950s and you ain't John Kennedy. No one is going to protect you or hide your messes for you.
In fact, the scandal-rabid paparazzi and the blood-thirsty middle class of peeps out there love to see people like you put in your place. You are too rich. You are too superior acting. You look too much like the POTUS. You get my drift? I ain't sayin' it's right, but I'm just sayin'.
And, really, porn stars and plastic-filled Barbies are your temptation of choice? Seriously? Again, I would have thought you slightly more discriminating. If you think that bunch of bimbos you boinked were going to hide their indiscretions then, hot damn, were you wrong.
So, now, not only have you disgraced yourself, your sport and your family, it looks like you have lost your wife (who could be a raving bitch for all I know, but is quite, quite lovely to look at) and two incredibly beautiful children. And I hope you have invested well because you will probably lose million$ and million$ due simply to your inability to keep your pecker in your pants. I hope that piece of ass (or pieces of ass) was worth it.
So, dude, good luck getting out of that shit hole you have dug for yourself. Before you make another move, I would suggest hiring a great PR person (Hey! I'm available! Call me!) for damage control of the C.F. of madness that is sure to be your life for weeks, and maybe months, to come.