It's now the end of March and warmer weather can't be far away. And that means it's getting close to golf time, folks! Is spring the best time of the year, or what?
At any rate, as we all prepare for the golf season, I would guess many of you are tired of hearing all the excuses golfers throw out for screwing up yet one more shot or one more round on one more day.
Well, me too.
Most are boring, time-worn excuses of little or no value, while some can be unique and creative. Take your pick.
I didn't have my A game.
You don't have a B, C, D, or even Z game either, you flailing moron. The last A you ever had was for perfect attendance in pre-school. And that's only because your mother ran it out of your house and duct-taped you to the wall.
My game's evolved into mediocrity.
Mediocrity would kick your sorry can all over the course, you slashing fool. Is it true the DNR follows you around the course to assess the damage you're doing to the environment? By the way, Lundell's and Schoon's called. They want to follow you around and tile.
I just can't break 80.
What are you talking about you gyroscoping jerk? Club house windows? Windshields in the parking lot? Golf clubs? You can't break 90 or 100 or 120, for that matter. Speaking of break, think about the hearts of the guys who have to play with you.
My putter wasn't working.
That's because it was in your spastic hands, you grunting bore. Your mind wasn't working either when you decided to take up the game. I've seen you play. None of your other clubs work either. Your whole bag could qualify for government cheese and be on welfare.
I couldn't get off the tee.
I know. I was one of 48 golfers you had backed up while you flailed away, you blind bullhead. And the tee markers were in the front. You could use the ladies tees but they're afraid they'd fall in one of your divots and not be able to crawl back out. We'll not only help you get off the tee, we'll help you get off the course and off the planet.
I kept hitting into trouble.
You mean hitting out of bounds, in the trees and in the water, you flopping dimwit. Trouble is what happened when you first started playing this game. Trouble is seeing you walk up to the first tee. Trouble is seeing you drive into the parking lot. Trouble is knowing you're still breathing and hold the key to the trunk containing your golf clubs.
My wife beat me and shook my confidence.
You mean that literally, don't you, dipstick? If you're talking about golf, what's new? Everybody beats you. Lack of confidence is not your problem. It's lack of skill. Take your clubs back to WalMart and buy a hard-cover book on martial arts. Next time your wife starts beating you, smack her with it.
I hurt my back and can't make a full turn.
Can you make a U-turn and get the hell off the course, blockhead? Your swing hurts my back. Blaming your golf game on your shoulder turn is like Oprah blaming her weight woes on sugarless gum. It's your whole game, dumbo! You don't have one.
I've got time for one more round.
Not with this cowboy, hack man. You'll have to play by yourself. I'll call the utility companies so they can flag their lines.