Vanity Fair's Tiger Woods Gross-Out

I gather that Tiger Woods couldn't break free of his compulsively tacky behavior until it was too late. But what's Vanity Fair's excuse?

Tish Durkin

God, I miss repression.

I miss the quaint idea that graphic sexual description can be all right in some places, but not in others (criminal trials and doctors’ offices, yes; dinner parties and prime-time television, no). I miss the common social practice of ignoring, or at least euphemizing, acts that consenting adults can do perfectly well in private without mentioning in public. I miss the standards whereby it would have been considered in prohibitively poor taste for a glossy, general-interest magazine to print the following quote—which, to his credit, my editor was indeed loath to reproduce here, but agreed on the grounds that it would be hard to bemoan just how gross things have gotten without actually showing just how gross things have gotten:

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Tish Durkin is a journalist whose work has appeared in publications including the New York Observer, the Atlantic Monthly, the National Journal, and Rolling Stone. After extensive postings in Iraq and throughout the Middle East, she is now based in Ireland.