Wow, look at that hook

When did the human excitement threshold sag to a level when two legged uprights get chills watching other uprights smacking little white dimpled balls around. I don't mean the 6:00 news hilights or even a few minutes of a major tournament on prime time viewed in the comfort of your TV room with a cold brewski. I mean to actually drop a crisp Jackson, hike 5 miles to a fenced off strip of sloppy mud with another 108 human morons near the driving tee of the 8th hole in the rain. Is the brain dopamine saturation at a point where this provides excitement for a select few amongst us. Do these same chill seekers watch latex paint dry in humid Alabama in July or Bermuda grass grow in arid Arizona when the nearest putting tournament is a continent or two away. This pathetic thrill fringe has even spawned a golf channel. What's next 24 7 bocci news. Come on fellow high brows get a life. At least watching a game of America's favorite past time with its whining overpaid tobacco chewing Caribbean Neanderthals is boring enough but at least all the players are within viewing distance and you can sit and be comfortable and shout disparaging remarks at the players and the other fans and even participate in a drunken brawl or two all for one over priced ticket. But watching golf on site takes fanhood to uncharted depths of what a boring life. To further biatch slap these club envy morons strict rules are in place enforced by a retired fortune 2000 CEO with a 23 handicap: no shouts, no belches, no profanity, no woots, no catching and keeping the errant clobbered balls, no seats, no view and no retractable, climate controlled dome. And worse, at most tournament venues the fortunate few only get to see one stroke and, if lucky, a miff or two by each passing player. Sounds like a mighty fine way to pee away lots of hours of a meaningless existence.

BTW, there's a future blooping blog blurb about the actual game of golf. You know that wonderful past time of smacking and then chasing a petite little pocked faced white ball into the woods so you and your best friends, who don't have any other friends, can waste the next half century looking for it amongst the poison sumac and rhodadendums and claim a few aerobic conditioning points between warm beers. More on this Scottish joke on fellow homo sapiens in a future blog soon to be playing near you.

FORE!!