If Only We had a Gopher

I would like to take a moment to apologize to the world for causing the death of Rodney Dangerfield. We had our golf tournament the other day; seems the damage caused to the course by the fishpimps was greater than that of both Caddyshack movies put together. It was just more than old Rod could bear.

I should have known it was going to be trouble when the guys in my threesome showed up with two espresso cup carriers full of bloody marys. Any hope of a competitive round was erased at the first hole, when my partner set up for a 50 yard chip to the pin and hit it 95 yards, smashing the sliding glass door of one of the condos that line the course. Fortunately, we absconded under the cover of a dense fog that limited visibility for most of the round. That fog also caused me to lose nearly all of the free range balls that I had stuffed my bag full of - yeah, the fog, yeah, that's the ticket...

At least we had a good time. The previous couple of years I've golfed with a bunch of guys who quit drinking. How is a poor, white boy supposed to get his drink on when he's surrounded by recovering alcoholics? This time we kept the cart girlies plenty busy. It's a miracle that we finished the round without major damage or submersion of the carts.

And to Mr. Dangerfield I'd like to offer a hearty "Gunga Na Gungana!"