Real Life Adventures by Gary Wise and Lance Aldrich for September 11, 2021

That bad was it.

Golf. Flog spelled backwards.

You did great, A nice high score.

Hey, lay off. I bowl in the low 80s and I’ve golfed a perfect 300.

What scorecard? What game?

I live near a golf course and watch these (mostly) men and cannot for the life of me figure out what they get out of it. No exercise since they all ride those little carts. It doesn’t look remotely fun. Granted, I’ve been on the driving range exactly once in my life and have played putt putt golf a few times, so my experience is limited. However, nothing about it has ever made me think that’s how I’d like to spend my time and money.

You go buy a small ball. You put it down on a big ball and hit it with a club. Then go look for it. If you find it, you don’t pick it up. You hit it again. And go look for it again. You keep doing that until you lose it and have to buy another small ball. Fun.

My friend next door found out that I have golf clubs and he invited me to play a round with him. I told him I was rusty and hadn’t played in over ten years but he said “Come on, it’ll be fun!”. I finished with a 142 and he came in with 103, he’d never in his life been over 100 even when he was a beginner. He didn’t ever invite me again, just as well, I’m not crazy about the game.

I pay a lawn service to mow my lawn and then go pay the golf course to get some exercise. Simple.

Use your putter judgement.

Step back; the smoke could be toxic. What with all the rubber eraser residue on them…

High scores are good, right?