Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Senior Tour

What is this?

“I’ve taken up golf.”

Oh, God, no. Not golf. Anything but golf.

“I’m, uh, all in. Found some bliss out on the links. That’s what we golfers call the course.”

Thank you for defining that completely foreign term.

“Lotta fun. It’s actually a very Grateful Dead activity.”

How so?

“Lasts forever, you get fucked up while you do it, and the equipment is stupid expensive.”

Yeah, okay.

“Had to order a custom pair of spandals.”

Spandals?

“Spiked sandals.”

Ah.

“You know that there’s a cart that drives around with liquor on it? They bring it right to you. America, huh?”

Bobby, please don’t become a golf guy. Do any other rich white person thing. Take flying lessons. Learn to paint. How about tennis?

“No tennis. I find the scoring system impenetrable and counter-intuitive.”

And golf’s better?

“Oh, yeah. Much easier.”

Really? What’s a birdie?

“A feathered fishie.”

What’s a scratch golfer?

“The one that doesn’t show up. You scratch him off your program.”

That’s horse-racing.

“Horse-racing and golf are strangely similar.”

What’s your handicap?

“Dyslexia.”

Walked into that one.

“A little bit.”

Very upsetting. Hey, Phil.

“Fuck off.”

Gotcha.

2 Comments

  1. I like golf with my dead!

  2. Same guy as last time

    August 23, 2017 at 11:25 pm

    It gives him another way to relate to the guys at the Bohemian Grove.

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