Category: Columnists

The Dilemma
By Hesi-Chip

Her golf skirt swished in a pendulum motion even smoother than Levi Fontaine's rhythmic putting stroke.  She told me, in no uncertain terms, "Kiss me or get off the pot.  With all of your hesitation, this maybe your last shot."  My dilemma was not having a woman give me an ultimatum, I have had scores of those, it was with my hesitation.  Normally my southern hemisphere overrules the northern with the speed of summer lightning.  In fact, the Yanks have never won a contest, let alone scored a run.  It was at this moment, I raised my hands over my shoulders, NBA style, and signaled for a time out.  I was hoping to "ice" her.

She is a beauty with blond hair that cascades over her shoulders into a silky waterfall of curls.  Her up and down is good and plenty.  I have always considered myself a renaissance man in all manners regarding outlook, style and love.  I appreciate the equality of women, especially when it comes to picking up a tab or having a sharp wit.  Okay, that last part was a test to see if you are still reading.  Good, you are. Her only flaw, is her handicap.  It is lower than mine.  Athletic Domination!

What will become of me, would I become her high handicap pet?  What would the other golfers think of me?  Would they secretly laugh at me the way dogs do when they see one of their kind in a sweater?  Would she pat me on the head when I take out the trash and swat me in the behind when I leave the toilet seat up?  Would I be relegated to sleep on the passenger side of the bed?  Would I have to face the ultimate in DEMANIFACATION?

You guessed it, the Scotch twosomes with matching shirts.  Egad!

Sweat poured from my head like a man caught with the wrong shade of lipstick on his collar.  My stomach was turning at 78 rpms, I was feeling faint.  I needed a diversion.  I could always fake an injury and flop around on the floor L.A. Clipper style, but for how long. I could talk to the girl and tell her of my insecurities and risk another pat on the head and a doggie treat.  No, time to man up.  What I need is  professional advice from someone with understanding, patience and knowledge ………………. "Bartender, ordering!".

Greetings and Salutations
By Sincerely Chip

It is truly gratifying to have a court order rescinded.  My weekly suggestions to the Hallmark Greeting Card Company have met with some serious opposition.  In fact, a legal cease and desist order was issued on my behalf.  It appears sagging sales and angry shareholders have caused management to rethink their heretofore "Ridiculous Contribution" mantra.  My ideas are now being hailed as refreshing and cutting edge.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The greeting card industry is primed and ready for some bold and new ideas.  March Mini Skirt Madness and Pole Dancer Awareness Week are currently being readied for launch next year.  The news that has the copy room buzzing with excitement is the unveiling of National Bookie Day!

The thinking is to replace Father's Day cards, no one ever buys them anyway, with an encoded Bookie Card.  No names will be used, only numbers and initials.  CA007, $50 on CHISOX.  It will revolutionize the business.  The genius behind this is, while gamblers have only one father, they usually have several bookies.  "It's a vastly untapped market worthy of exploration", said Big Al.  "Hell, I give it 5-2 to succeed."  Is there a better way to pay the vig?  Of course, the cards will be seasonal, football, baseball, auto racing and cricket.  All golf bets must be paid in cash, sorry.

Buoyed with a new found confidence, I recently made a promotional suggestion to our local ball club.  Halter Top Day!  The shirt would have the words, "I love my Giants" emblazoned on it.  I think that's a winner.  

Game Time
Pro Chip        

April is National Poetry Month.  This does not mean the membership has to talk to, wave at, or interact in any way with any of these poorly dressed, odd smelling beret wearers.  It does, however, help you understand this month's column.  Enjoy the musings.

I have bought the magazines and read the books,
where is the tour swing they promised and the second looks?
I have asked my waiter, bartender and pro,
surely, one of them must be in the know.
On the range, I have captured Tiger's magic,
come the first tee and I become Phil U.S. Open tragic.
I have studied Sergio and his claw putt,
ogled and considered Michelle's style, butt.
On paper, my game is a two hand slam dunk,
in reality, it's three off the tee and one in the junk.

What happened and where's the fix,
until I find "IT" my game's not in the mix.
My goal is to compete and be a weekly contender,
prove the pundits wrong, I am no pretender.
In my mind, I have beaten Rory, Ricky and Luke,
mainly with my cool and a driver I can nuke.
A short game better than any mother's son,
the outcome inevitable, the deal done.
With a game like this, it is important to give back,
I routinely thank those who shaped it, Arnie, Bobby and Jack.

Wake up man, you were in some sort of fog,
we are at the halfway house and you ordered a dog.
What were you doing out there, that front nine was a mess,
get yourself together son, we just laid down another press.

March Match Play Madness
Chip-A-Domis

Can you hear it? That haunting little refrain that has gotten a hold of the membership.  They are humming it on the tee boxes, tapping to it in the men's room and warbling it a the top of their lungs in the grill.  

"It's match play, and it's the most wonderful time of the year…".

"It's the only time all season I can make a low handicapper sweat when playing me. I can have a couple of blow up holes, a train wreck or two and still have 13 shots to play with.  Life is grand, said John Jurgins.  

It is the best tournament for knee knocking three footers, undiscovered cuss words and colorful post round stories that we have. 

Here is a run down of the contenders, the pretenders, and the thanks for playings.

Bubble Boys

To get to the match play portion of the tourney and all of its fun, one has to be among the top 32 qualifiers.  Perennial Bubble Boys, Blue Moon Retainer, Freddie Chiape, and myself will be living and dying with each score that comes in.  Here is an easy barometer of our weekend status: if we are drinking beer, we are in; if the drink contains ice, we are out.

Contenders

These are the boys who have the match play combat experience to have a shot at the title. "Either these guys have ice water in their veins, or they are just  a little daft, but pressure doesn't seem to bother them," said long shot Dennis Andersen. This group includes Art Klein, Bruce Lorin, Howard Stein, John Masters, and column favorite, Gordon Blackstock.  Dark Horse Pick: The green hatted Don Delbon.

Bracket Busters

These are the guys you hope end up on the other side of your bracket.  They tend to pop up in the third round, complaining about how poorly they are playing and then thump you 4 and 3. Be on the look out for Bob and Jim Jackson, those damned firemen, Perry Saxson, and the long hitting Scott Rehn. Dark Horse Pick: Frank Cesarz.

Thanks for Playing

Since readership of this column is hovering around double digits and is on the verge of going viral, it would not be prudent for me to name these individuals at this time (see me in the bar and I will sing like a bird).

Good luck everyone and enjoy, "The most wonderful time of the Year."