Friday, May 12, 2006

...on the tryptic 2

view part one
so if the bastard knows one thing in this life, he knows that he hates golf. not the ASME award winning magazine of the same name because the creative director is a really cool guy, but the game. and maybe i don't hate the game quite as much as the snow man does (he has a 12 point speech prepared as to why golf should be banished from the earth but that's really his story to tell, not mine) so much as i hate the fans of the game. or maybe it's just the kind of pompous crap that the sprt represents. the bullshit social climbing. either way there are very few people i know who play golf for the love of the game except for uncle dahboo because he loves his father and that's how they spend father's day together. anyway, i think i would prefer urban golf as these photos demonstrate i couldn't rightly put of a picture of jack nickel-ass now could i?

so while i'm enjoying the big uncomfortable whiny guy in front of me on the train and his cell phone adventures, they get drowned out by these two idiots talking about their golf weekends. and the only thing worse than having to put up with golf is having to endure two chuckleheads go on about their weekly habits. i mean if you inserted the phrase "house cleaning" or "spend some time with my family" into every golf related phrase into their conversation, you'd realize how screwed up and disfunctional the dedicated golfer really is.

"you knoh ahn saduhday i liketuh hidda buggeduhballz around and den aye pood in a full day at duh golv cawse ahn sunday" did i tell you that they sounded like a pair of italian stereotypes come to life. these characters could pour it on with their deep booming voices, cheesy television character voices and the gesticulating. another thing i find funny about the golf enthusiast. they carry golf everything on them. the guy had his golf umbrella between his legs sticking up like the erection he couldn't possibly get from anything but golf. could you imagine the beatdown the bastard would get on the street if he walked down 34th street with his, i don't know, ummm, doctor who rain slicker on? i dunno but, i'm really glad that i have an ipod to keep me from killing myself. too bad i couldn't keep up with the cream dream's phone adventures. dammit.

—the bastard

No comments: