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Rick Reilly Doesn’t Disappoint With ‘Ode To Phil Mickelson’s Good Guy Persona’ Column

By no means do I wish to denigrate the heart-warming victory by Phil Mickelson at the Masters yesterday and the touching moment he shared with his wife Amy afterward, but the unfortunate byproduct of the feelgood hit of the Masters was that it gift-wrapped for every halfwit sportswriter from across the land a paint-by-numbers template (or would it be type-by-numbers?)  for a throwaway column dealing with the juxtaposition of “Supportive, Dedicated Spouse” Phil Mickelson and the “Bad, Philandering Husband” Tiger Woods.

And not in the least bit surprising is that Reilly’s column on the topic, with the somewhat overreaching title, “Mickelson’s win a victory for women,” was exactly what we have come to expect from the sappy scribe.

Reilly begins with this completely moronic statement:

It’s not often women win the Masters, but they did Sunday.

Take out “not often” and replace with “never” and he might have been on to something.

Actually, Phil Mickelson won, but for millions of women around the country, it must feel like a lipstick-sized victory.

What in the hell does that even mean? Lipstick-sized victory? Am I missing something here, because – and I haven’t had much experience with lipstick since my “experimental” days in college (um, I was a huge Kids in the Hall fan, alright?), but has anyone other than Reilly ever attempted to provide perspective regarding the magnitude of an event by comparing it to the size of a tube of lipstick?

Sadly, this continues:

Mani-pedis for everybody!

Way to marginalize women with a beauty parlor joke, Reilly. Why didn’t he go with “brand new vacuums” instead? At least a vacuum would make the average woman’s life that much easier.

Also winning Sunday: karma, which proved to be alive and well. And guys who never had a temper in the first place. And endings that make you wipe your tears on the couch pillows.

Gross. Get a Kleenex, dude. There’s nothing more hygienic than a person using household items for the unintended purpose of cleaning up bodily secretions. Here’s a tip: if you ever find yourself at Rick Reilly’s house for some unknown reason, be wary of using any of the hand towels. For some reason known only to him, Reilly wipes his ass with them. He also uses doilies as snot rags. Weird guy.

For this momentous occasion, Reilly even elected to eschew his proclivity to resort to lame-brained dental humor and instead riffed on a completely different medical profession which hasn’t yet been mined for comedy:

Morticians.

Amy Mickelson is the kind of walking rainbow that could put a smile on a mortician’s face…

Oof. Expect a sternly-worded letter from the Morticians Are Perfectly Normal People and Not Creepy At All Alliance, Reilly. And do you know what else puts a smile on a mortician’s face? The overnight shift, an empty morgue and an attractive corpse.

What? Yeah, I suppose I will be getting an angry letter from the Alliance as well now. But you have seen the video for Tom Petty’s “Mary Jane’s Last Dance” right? If there is one thing I have learned in life it’s that anything that has ever happened in a Tom Petty video can easily happen in real life.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my “Cool Dude” on by riding up and down an escalator while strumming an acoustic guitar. I don’t care what mall security says.

Mickelson’s win a victory for women [ESPN]