(Through Rose-Coloured Glasses)

What a relief, our virile Tiger is found, alive and well, sort of.

We have been looking for the crouching Tiger for the past month. Ever since he wrapped his SUV around a tree in front of his mansion, rumoured trouble with his wife, he has mysteriously disappeared under the watchful eyes of the army of paparazzi, stationed outside his residence. And then his mistresses, one by one (last count, 19), stepped forward and claimed their piece of fame for monetary gain. But where is Tiger, who simply vanished, suddenly and completely, without a trace, and transformed into a hidden dragon.

We kept searching the Internet for any bitsy of news. But Google was not co-operating.

Google, you are supposed to be the great detective (tool) of our generation, the search engine everybody goes to, that can spit out massively tons of info instantly and indiscrimately. But what is going on? News blackout? We cannot find any new info using all your fancy tools. You kept spitting out old news. We even have to rely on hackers, to go through your whole databases, your gmails data, the bloggers’ sites, to no avail. Where are you hiding all these valuable info? You are supposed to hog all the info directly from the Information Highway, never paid for them anyway, and stored every byte in your humongous numbers of PCs. Where are those Google street-view cars, supposed to be roaming the cities of this planet, snapping up pictures of our ordinary citizens, better than those grannies of the Neighourhood Watch teams. You are supposed to collect all those satellite images, to scan all books from libraries………. But now are you hogging and controlling all these info, censoring, sanitizing and blocking them and only release or dose out those you deemed harmless, to us netizens? This is Information Imperialism, really.

But thankfully National Enquirer came to the rescue. They first broke the news, Tiger is crouching low in Mississippi, licking his wounds in a sex-rehab center. From the snapshot circulating, we can even deduce Tiger’s treatment method, replacing sex addiction with another addiction, the good old stimulant — coffee. Just Look at the size of the Starbuck in his hand.

Farewell Google, we need you no more.

Now onto our next project: Brangelina Splitville. National Enquirer, here we come.