Mar 19, 2009

I wish we had a government of the people instead of this permanent ruling class that we are stuck with. I suppose that is part of Obama's appeal. He isn't just another privileged knucklehead taking his rightful place. The more they unpack this financial mess, the more it becomes apparent that rich and powerful that we elected to represent us, have spent considerable effort greasing the skids for the rich and powerful in the big financial firms. At the same time, the latter has provided mucho dinero to the former, in exchange for their favorable treatment. Gets old, doesn't it? The golfing trio of The Seafood King, Some Guy Named Bob and me, have temporarily become a foursome, with the addition of a winter-visiting farmer from Iowa. One Thursday, earlier this year, The Farmer was waiting around the course for an open spot and since we are just three, the guy in the pro shop told him to join us. One thing lead to another and he has become a regular. The Seafood King and I have appointed The Farmer to keep Some Guy Named Bob company, and out of our hair. Some Guy Named Bob is a wonderful man with many good qualities, but he can be maddening. Every golf shot he hits is followed by the question, "Did you see my ball?" Ironically, Some Guy Named Bob has excellent ball-dar, except when it comes to finding his own ball. He seems to feel the presence of lost golf balls and wanders all over the course, searching for them. He has hundreds of golf balls gleaned from yard sales, bargain bins and thrift shops, but there is always room for that one more. Then there is the matter of his golf cart maneuvering skills. The Seafood King and I walk the course and carry our bags. Some Guy Named Bob rides a cart. If he rides alone, bad things have happened. I'm not kidding when I tell you that he once ripped the top off a golf cart because he underestimated how low a tree limb was. The Farmer has handled the job of Some Guy Named Bob's navigator. Near-misses are way down. Alas, after next Thursday, The Farmer will head back to Iowa leaving every man for himself. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

9 comments:

Kurt said...

How was his harvest?

Anonymous said...

Dennis is reminded of a very humorous 'golf story' that Willie Nelson once told Dennis.

bitchlet said...

Hello, Merle!

Avid Reader said...

I saw a book about golf once.

Steve said...

Bob needs a bumper sticker that says "The Farmer is my co-pilot."

The Family Julz said...

Teehee. "Did you see my ball?"

Barbara said...

I started playing golf at 8. My father always claimed that real golfers walk, never riding in a cart. It really doesn't seem like much exercise if you ride, especially if you shoot anywhere close to par.

I never could hit the ball far enough to lose sight of it!

Good luck with staying out of Bob's path and helping him find his balls. (That doesn't sound so good, does it?)

Reya Mellicker said...

Too bad about the Farmer. He sounds like a keeper.

Megan said...

I wonder if The Farmer will miss those brushes with death?