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Wednesday, October 19

Something ELSE to piss Thorn off

Frequent commenter and long-time pain in my ass Thorn loves to play golf, probably even more than his other habits, such as drinking mass quantities of cheap Miller beer, playing his guitars, eating, and sleeping with his wife who has always compared favorably to Christie Brinkley. He has tried repeatedly to drag my dead ass out there, starting around age 15 or so, as a way to get ourselves deep into the middle of nowhere so we could swill Old Styles. As he can attest, I sucked goat dick at age 15, and I've only gone downhill from there.

I know, 98% of us SAY we suck at golf. Most of you are too modest. I truly suck. I usually shoot 75 for 9 holes. There just aren't enough hours in the day for me to play 18. I have played enough putt-putt golf so I am not the worst putter in the world. But I can't get the ball in the air, and I can't hit it straight, and I can't reproduce anything consistently. I've never hit a clean chip shot in my life.

I met my second wife on a golf outing, and she claimed that the thing that first attracted her to me was how bad I sucked, and (on that day) I wouldn't complain.
Well, sugar, I was being nice that day. We went out several more times together after that, and eventually, I went back to being myself, beating my clubs against the ground and 'mother-fucking' every shot. She left me soon afterwards.

I have zillions of excuses as to why I suck so bad. Part of the screwup is that I am very right-handed. To this day, I can't do anything left-handed except wipe my ass. And, as it would be, swing a bat, stick, or club. Seems that during my formative years, my dad put me in the left-handed batters box, because HE was left handed, and it never occurred to him that people batted the other way. So there I am, to this day, standing on the wrong side of the ball, PULLING my shots with my right arm, rather than PUSHING them with my left.

One day, I went to a used golf store, and cherry-picked a right-handed set, and went out and didn't do half bad. So my wife runs right out and buys me a custom set of right handed clubs, and announces to me that she expected me to start doing much better. Of course, THAT was the fuckin' Kiss of Death. For my biggest problem is dealing with the competitiveness of it all. I am a major Type B personality, I really could care less who wins or loses when it comes to something I'm doing, except for Fucking Golf. Then, I'm all pissed off when my 99 pound second wife outdrives me 8 of the nine holes, except for the 120 yard par-3. THAT one I bust about a half-mile.

I haven't golfed since that fuckin' bitch left me. I gave my custom clubs to my elder son, and he took them out a few times a couple of years ago. He thinks the sport is 'gay', as they say. Well, I'll tell you what. It's ok if you're fuckin' around with a few other guys. But nobody fucks around golfing anymore, and even the scrubbiest, shittiest courses these days expect you to conduct your business with decorum and, uh, couth.

I mean, what a fuckin' sport. Didja hear what happened last week? In case you live under a rock, or in Kazahstan, Michelle Wie is a hyper-tall fifteen year old Chinese-American girl who can smack a ball further than Happy Gilmore. So she turned pro, and everyone involved is fighting her every step of the way. Last week, in her first paying gig, she had to give back her 53 G's and her fourth-place finish because she took a drop that was 12 inches in front of her first one.

I don't know her; maybe she's a stone cold bitch slut whore in real life, maybe people around her hate her elongated guts. Other than that, I can't understand why a reporter would find it HIS business to turn her in? And, once she was tattled on, why couldn't they, like, dock her a stroke, even two? She would still finish in the top ten, and get a good chunk of change. I understand that she already has millions in the bank from endorsements. But disqualification, over 12 inches? Are the guys that run the sport THAT repressed, and the people who participate THAT insecure, that they all think that this is reasonable?

It seems really over the top, to me. Sure, she knows the rules, and knowing the kind of stuffed shirts that run her particular sport, she should have erred on the side of extreme caution. But, you know me and details. If I gotta follow a bunch of rules, and pick a bunch of nits, then fuckit, find me a more low-key deal, like bowling. You cross the line, the buzzer goes off, and the little computer that keeps score marks you down with an F. Other than that, anything goes.