Author: Tim Andersen

Beware the Irish of March
by Potato Chip

Some elbow patched, bespected literary scholars believe a papal adjustment in the 14th century may have altered world history.  These state-sponsored otherwise unemployable experts contend recently discovered Vatican documents link William Shakespeare with high ranking officials in a conspiracy to limit the uncorked toasting potential of the Irish.
 
Experts believe Shakespeare's play "Julius Caesar" was a thinly veiled attempt to quite the poetic Irish.  Shakespeare, they surmise, believed the Irish a threat to his livelihood due to their natural ability to muddle the English language in a manner even more vague than his.
 
"If these documents, handwritten on cocktail napkins from the original Caesar's Palace, can be authenticated, then it proves Shakespeare's involvement," said noted Irishman Ross Madigan.  These documents claim Billy S., King John, and Julius Caesar were plotting to close all Irish distilleries.  They believed it would cripple the Irish creative spirit.  "Dry them up to shut them up," said Shakespeare.  Mixological analysis reveals Billy S. and King John drank coffee royals, (another slap at the Irish) while Caesar doth drank wine the colour of blood.
 
If it wasn't for Pope Patrick the O'nly, this dastardly plan might have succeeded.  The Pope got wind of the plot when he overheard palace guards speaking out of school.  He beheaded them, since what happens at Caesar's Palace stays at Caesar's Palace, and set off to save Ireland.  He intercepted the the play at Caanes, where it was set for summer stock.  The pope reworked the plot, updated the costumes and much to the displeasure of Brutus, deleted his musical number in Act II.  The conspiracy was thwarted, the distilleries stayed open and the good people of
Ireland continued to toast at will.
 
Pope Patrick was promoted to saint.  The others didn't fare as well, Julius was stabbed in the back, Billy S. was forced into advertising, and throughout Ireland the public restroom became known as "The John."
 
Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

 

Image caption: Gnome Place Like Home

National Beer Month: A Love Story
by Chip of Champagne

February is the month of beer and love, and how the latter was saved by the former.  Let me explain.

As a lad, I was seduced by the sweetest singing siren of them all, Lady Golf.  At the start, it was magical.  Sunny spring days, free swinging, elbows flying, not a care or concern in the world.  It was a passing fancy at best, a whim, just one of those things, or so I thought. 

Youth being youth, I dallied with baseball, basketball, football, wrestling and even her country club sister, tennis.  I played around with parlor games too, like pool, darts and guessing the weight of fat chicks.  I wasn't a complete cad.  I would occasionally take her out for a romp on a daisy clad muni, or for laughs, a bucket at the range, nothing serious.  She had other plans.  When scorned, Lady G can be cold, relentless demanding and unforgiving.  Her demeanor becomes a smidgen less civil than the combatants on the Jerry Springer Show.  She had her claws in me.

My jump shot became a dietary supplement, all iron.  Those doubles down the line became two hoppers to short.  My life was in chaos.  She wanted me to practice, keep score, get a handicap, and egad, wear ARGYLE!   I was spinning out of control.  Enter beer.

It was beer who talked me down from the ledge the day I received my first handicap (28) card.  When my drives and putts covered the same distance, long or short, beer was there for me.  The tourney I entered the wrong score and lost by a stroke, my pal was in the clubhouse silently waiting. 

Beer, as a support group may not work for everyone.  Some of the guys, for example, get married with hope the "other woman" will negate Lady Golf's mystic feminine powers.   Still others, those poor inflicted souls with the yips or the shanks seek a higher power, like our pro Dana.  Whatever your support group is, relationships are difficult. So as you lean on them in these trying times and in your own way salute them.  Cheers.

To commemorate Chip's one year anniversary the first 20 members wearing ascots at the Feb. 4th 2-Man tourney will receive a free beer.  See Denny Andersen for details. 

Old Fashioned, New and Improved
By Chip-O-Matic

The month of January, it's bigger, it's better, it's made from time honored traditions.  It's confusing.  It is no wonder that Janus, the Roman God for whom the month was named, has his head on a swivel looking forward and back.  According to a recent interview with Zeus, Janus has the ability to spin his head faster than Linda Blair did in the Exorcist and more often than a man shopping with his wife at the mall. "He is incredible", said Zeus.

January is a time for out with the old and in with the new, unless the old works better than the new.  Take the average golfer's new years resolution of a new swing, hitting more fairways, and better course management.  Lofty goals, all, until he is hit with his first two down auto press of the year.  The new swing that works so well in front of the pro, on the driving range or when buying a new club, suddenly deserts him. Panic sets in.  Sweat replaces the Bing Crosby like cool, creative new cuss words stream effortlessly from within.  All appears lost.

It is a bold move, but now is the time to double the bet.  Chances are good your opponent has made a similar resolution.  He is probably just counting the holes until his new swing implodes into a fiery mass of Titliest and TaylorMade. This kind of course management is new and improved and those old fashioned greenbacks in your pocket will help you feel better about the new year and change.   

Dear Santa,

I believe. I believe in you, the Tooth Fairy and the Playboy Bunny.  I believe naughty is more fun than nice.  I believe that some nine handicaps are legitimate.  I believe the DH is wrong and AstroTurf is a necessary evil.  I believe the 49ers and the Raiders should play out of the same stadium.  I believe if you give me a soft summer breeze, a woman and a moon lit night, you can keep the breeze and the moonlight.  I believe lingerie is at it's loveliest when it is on the floor.  I believe the sexiest part of a woman's body is her mind.  Ok, Santa you caught me, I was just check to see if you were still reading.

I believe in square grooves, belly putters or not, you still have to make the shot.  I believe Bill "Two Spins" Feeley will stay under 200 pounds.  I believe and pray that the ASCOT returns to fashion prominence.  I believe in two dollar beers and over tipping.  I believe Mark Macguire, Barry Bonds and all the other cream or clear guys do not deserve Hall of Fame consideration. I believe, big guy, we should periodically be reminded that perhaps, we sometimes, very rarely take her for granted.  After all, deep down inside, she is still just a girl at heart in the arms of a man.  I believe match play is the only way to play this game. I believe Tiger and Phil would have trouble with our 19th hole.

Santa, I believe I want to wish you and the membership a Merry Chipmas.

Love,

Chip