"There is golf and there is tournament golf. The two bear no resemblance to one another." - Bobby Jones
Truer words have rarely been spoken. Yesterday played first Best-Ball leg of interclub grudge match with Grove Park C.C. Always a nice schadenfreude experience watching grown men hack-up whole chunks of self-esteem like a college freshman four hours into an inaugral binge-drinking fest. Corollary to this is "I didn't think he could fit that many platinum horseshoes up there" reaction, which is only logical one to watching an admitted duffer hole-out from off-the-green for the third time on same 9 for a net par. Prism of tournament play pressure brings both ends of this spectrum into simultaneous sharp relief.
For myself this was first opportunity to see if new swing paradigm held-up to strain described above. It did. I've now reverted fully to my ages 8-14 [Ford-Carter Administration] baby cut with a degree of elasticity plus tempo possibly approximated only by platform dive-like pouring of syrup @ your local IHOP.
"Promise to keep a box by bedside with your face emblazoned on tip ..." - Mrs. CGB
Such is sacred pledge espoused at dinner last night by my Blushing Bride in event I prematurely shuffle-off my mortal coil and she - after decent interregnum of at least a couple of weeks - begins to entertain new applicants to her portals of connubial pleasure. Personally, I think this is a killer idea above & beyond my spouse's snide comment. I see divorced men lining-up to slap-on images of ex-wives and being positively silly in delight they'll derive when (fully) using product. Lets get the silk screen presses fired-up!
Only real question now is if I dive into these waters, so to speak, and harvest this potential sunken booty of filthy lucre, will Mrs. CGB deign to lower herself to acknowledging the source of such publicly? Smart money is instead on her rapid generation of cover story that ole Uncle Red invented concept of 'White Sale' for linens south of Mason-Dixon line and class action suit got settled quite belatedly in favor of her 'Bama kinfolk. This would serve dual purpose of kicking-away spotlight from moi and, also, lining-up closet Rebs for her annual 'Jeb Davis Grits & Canapes Cotillion'.
Lastly I'm delighted that a good old friend, H.L. Mencken, is active again on Twitter.
After presumably an extended Bavarian bout of indigestion from his last Ocktoberfest revelling, the Bard of Balitmore is now bellowing weekly at the Scopes Monkey trial backbenchers and their daily boobism. A young snap of our Teutonic freund is to the right.
May his leave from the Internet never be so long again and, please, support his efforts by checking-out his august Twitter missives. You'll thank me, I'm sure, for suggestion!
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