Category: Columnists

The King and his Court
by Royal Chip

THE KING HAS FALLEN! This was a recent banner headline of the Los Angeles Times;the Washington Post and The PCGC Website.  It’s true.  The indestructible King of Poplar Creek,Bill Swingin’ Mr, Stevens fell and broke several bones, but not his spirit. Ladders are a young mans game  His Neon Knights, JPrez, The Sons of Civil Servants, Blue Moon Retainer, Touchy Feeley and his many Merry Minions have taken a sacred vodka-cranberry oath  to put all the pieces back together again.

It won’t take long, said Randy G., he is elastic, Strretch Armstrong like, and a sexy grand pa,so Mel tells me.   He is recovering nicely, its in good hands and is accepting all future bets.”

The statesman is a past club president, first rate bowler, multiple club champ and has been the San Mateo Ambassador to golf for what seems a hundred years,’ Said Steve Hildebrant.. Big Al’sbetting combine has Bill’s recovery at better than even odds.  “We at the firm, have taken the bet off the board, as it is a lock.
The King epitomizes the club, Blue Lou Badet would have said if we could have located him.It is rumored that he is either a Moonie out spreading love, flowers and sarcasm at an airportnear you, or a bass guitar player in a 60’s cover band.  Rock on Lou.

It is further believed that the King founded this club as a young man back in 1933.  “We can’t find anyone around here old enough to verify this.  We will check with the Elk’s Club as their membership is even older than ours and ask,  Hopefully they will remember his name, and theirs,” said a spry Bogie
Until this mystery can be solved, The Merry Minions have vowed to raise an hourly toastto Swingin’ Mr. Stevens.   HAIL TO THE KING!

For Mike Bradley

By: Chip

Husband, Father, Brother, Loyal Friend.

Professor, Scientist, Astrologer, Philosopher, Teacher.

Fun, Goofy, Teller of good jokes when he could remember the punch line,

head slapper when he couldn’t.

Cat Lover, Charismatic, Never met anyone he didn’t like, Charming,

Lover of life, Drinker of Vodka and Lemonade, (Yuck) Generous with his Time

and Spirit, Passionate, Connoisseur of Bar Food, Fan of Mel and the Staff,

and, Oh Yeah, a Golfer.

Michael, enjoy the nineteenth hole in Heaven, the first round is on you, buddy.

We miss you, see you soon.

A Priest, A Pro and a Pallbearer
by Trinity Chip

My golf game had gotten so bad, Cheron, the mythological Greek figure charged with ferrying the
newly deceased to the promised land, was waiting for me on the shoreline. He told me in broken
English, (it was a new language in his day) he would row my game out to the lake at Sharp Park
and watch it sink. This is the same lake the Sierra Club shunned. I was at my wits end.

Some philosopher, maybe it was Ernest Hemingway, Jacques Cousteau or Jimmy Buffet
said, “The sea, like golf, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”
I needed to fix my game quick, fast and in a hurry. But how? I didn’t know if I was in need of
a priest, a pro or a pallbearer. I was flummoxed.

When in a state of absolute despair, it is human nature to lean on a trusted confidant.
I realized then and there, I had to see my bartender.

Mel was tending over her large Saturday herd when I slumped in.. The boys, JPrez, Walter,
Randy, Bernie and the Professor briefly looked up from their drinks, nodded, and returned to
their lively conversation on the art of falconry. In her infinite wisdom, Mel knew something was
amiss. She set down beer and asked me if I had seen Jeramie or Dana yet? She said she had
only seen me this low when I had the shanks. “I knew it was your game. she said, how can I help?
Give me a shot of hemlock, and I’ll be fine, I said. As I spoke those words, alarms sounded sirens
blared. Bedlam ensued.

Realizing the serious nature of my malady, she sent over the Arties, White and Klien, Levi, and called
Swingin’ Mr. Stevens on her “Mel Phone “, a hot line direct to the King. We had a barstool vigil, complete
with the laying of the hands by Scott Renn, It was reminiscent of a southern tent revival without the gospel
singers, the collections and the oppressive heat. They all gathered to pray for my game’s return,

Dressed in a lime green leisure suit, the Goodwill laughed at and then refused, Bill Feeley gave this heartfelt
homely. “Brothers we must unite and help this poor lost soul find his game, It gives me very little pleasure, well
at lest before the check comes, to take his money every week, I feel like SteveO fleecing Cabo Nick, it’s
not a good feeling. It must stop! We have to help him.”

Mel put two beers in front of me, said we weren’t going anywhere until we fix this thing. By the time I
Ubered home, I’d forgotten what was wrong with my game, why it din’t work, and my name. In the words
of Kevin O’Malley, Mel-therapy works again.

Santa’s New Suit

By Chip Crinkle

Santa today revealed the latest in aviation ingenuity and advancement with the launch of theDasher V sled and the newly improved S-Suit.  These innovations have already made ripplesthroughout the armed services, air delivery and Easter Bunny communities. “Incredible, saidE.B., just cutting edge.”

The Dasher V is a six man sled equipped with enough counter measures and offensive weaponsto rival Air Force One.  “After last years run ins over Somalia and North Korea we had to comeup with something to provect ourselves. In San Francisco, two reindeers were injured during asmash and grab, when the mob overwhelmed the Elf Elite, the ground crew anchored by Rancy G.and Mel, and the SFPD.  This year we fight back, said impassioned co-designer Artie Klien.

The crew will be outfitted in a state of the art and fashionable S-Suit.  The red velvet anti gravitysuit with the stylish white fur collar, can withstand speeds of Mach 5 without G-LOC, loss of consciousness, said club techie Scott Renn. “it will come in handy flying over China and Haiti”.

Several PCGC members were being given a tour of the new equipment when the big fella sawme, and said “Chip, let’s take her for a little spin”.  The sons of civil servants, Kevin and Jim, manned the computer system. Bernie Hyde took the navigations controls.  JPrez, looking quite naturalin his S-Suit, took the gun on the left, I was on the right.  

“I know y’all were expecting reindeer, but the skies are not safe for my little friends.  They say the south has a lot of guns,  try flying over Iraq during a holiday.  We are working with the reindeerunion to iron out their futures.  Currently they are on full oats and benefits.  Kinda of like California,  no work, all pay, but these guys are worth it,” said Santa.

While we took off over friendly skies, we quickly encountered bogies over Venezuela.   They scrambledtheir three working fighters to intercept us.  The sons of civil servants very calmly laid down a trailof counter measures which baffled and overwhelmed the bullies from Central America.  Santa yelledover the P.A. system, “ Hey Chip, it’s like your second hole, one on the runway, three in the drink”.

With that Santa banked a hard left, scorched Mexico at Mach 4 and  said,”great test flightboys, you’re all on the nice list”. From some unseen  flight attendant, Santa thinks of everything,Bernie ordered up a bottle and we all toasted the season.

Merry Chipmas