St. Tiger Woods

“I make Tiger Woods look like a saint.”

Something I heard the other day. But entertain me for a second… What if there’s some prophetical truth hiding in that statement?

Say… some 200-odd years in the future, rather than only clergy being eligible for sainthood, celebrities are up for canonization. That’d be the highlight of the century… whichever one where humanity has churches and temples dedicated to lizard people and lotus eaters.

Though people nowadays do make shrines of Danny DeVito. It is Danny DeVito, after all.

But who’s to say reality fasts and knee-skinning for superstars won’t become the new black? Seems like everywhere we look there are hordes of glossy-eyed adolescents praising fictional characters. Billboards with botoxed faces. Punny restaurant entrées.

We go as far as to dedicate calendar dates to them. I mean, July 6th is Kevin Hart Day in Philly. Cleveland has January 17th reserved for Steve Harvey. Subpar comedian. Overrated show host. Heard Harvey’s kind of a dickhead, too. He does have the look to go with that moniker. But people seem to love them both regardless. That’s cool and all.

But it’s the idea of celebrating a celebrity that seems pointless. Sure, some of them may have had moments of being Good Samaritans, but so have millions of other people. Where’s their day? Just last week I gave a street preacher the time of the day. Where’s my damn day?

A church with a bronze-plated Tiger Woods instead of our Messiah? Definitely hold your breath.

St. Tiger Woods. You heard it here first.