Golf Indigestion – First Edition

For my readers and loyal followers, you know I write about my very poor game of golf.  I know there is a magazine called Golf Digest.  Well, since there are copyright protections on this, I know that no one in their right frame of mind would ever create a magazine titled “Golf Indigestion” – well, except for yours truly.  I have already written numerous posts on my golf game.  But, now I want my own monthly golf magazine dedicated to those of us who really, really suck at the game of golf. I am looking for a subscription fee of 99 cents per blog post.   It’s cheap and I promise you will not learn one damn thing from me – not one.  You may have a good laugh though.  Isn’t 99 cents worth that at least?  Call it the unhappy meal for the soul.  Call it a round of therapy.  After you read how bad I am, you will feel much better about yourself.

I recall a day in my youth when my father and I went golfing on a warm summer day. So warm was it that the heat index was approximately 121 degrees.  We only made it through the first nine holes.  It was at that point that I should have wondered about this great game called golf.  As hot as it was, it could have been called rolf, for the noise one makes hurling my indigestible breakfast further than one’s tee shot.  That’s how bad my game of golf sucks.  I can hurl further and straighter than my tee off, even with a big Bertha or a Howitzer canon.  I can throw or kick it further than I can tee it off.  My tee shot is called the Rainmaker.  It drives straight to the ceiling of the atmosphere, opening the waters of the heavens, and comes falling back down only ten feet from the women’s tee box.  I never yell fore, because the little old ladies are never worried I’ll hit them.

I kid often about the true story of killing a squirrel with one of my famous shots.  Now I can imagine also placing recipes in my magazine titled “Fairway Kill – You Drill it, I’ll Grill it.”  There would also be a beverage recipe at the back called the 19th hole.  The first drink would be named “OMG Gasping 9-Iron.”  The recipe is really simple, any alcoholic drink straight, with an oxygen tank chaser.  Those who follow me will get this reference, wherein OMG actually stands for “Oh My Groin!”

I would also have sections on the proper way to total your golf cart or launch over a cliff.  Or, how to expertly and artistically wrap your golf set around a maple tree.  How about the best curse lines in golf history?  “WTFoooooore!”  How about a section on why “Any day at work is better than a day of golf.” All this for just 99 cents!  If you subscribe today, I’ll throw in a VHS of Caddy Shack and a bottle of TUMS in for FREE – FREE – FREE (echo sound).  However, handling charges of $1.99 and shipping charges of $3,000 do apply.  What a bargain, right?

So why delay, order today! If your game of golf sucks and you get queasy knowing how much money you sank (not to be confused with putts) into the sport, you need “Golf Indigestion.”

PS – If you haven’t guessed that blog posts are not shipped, you suck at more than just golf.

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