HOLY SH*T GOLF PRICKS EVERYWHERE

I can only bow before the genius. I may, in fact, try to get this nominated this for a Pulitzer. Like certain songs, I wish I would have written it. When’s the seminar? I’ll bring beer.

You’re the Julia Child of the lexicon. Thank You!

Today a neighbor took an extra long time at the mail-boxes so everyone could drink in his pleated pants and black Titleist cap.

If you squinted, he looked a little like Phil Mickelson.

So, he had a nice rack?

No, it was a Lexus. If he had any guns, they were in the trunk.

No joke, I saw a 30-something white guy wearing khakis and a green Masters polo in CVS in downtown DC. SOMEONE’S EXCITED!

Zammo! You really got a hold of that one. Straight down the fairway.

I’m chortling at the “aggressive nose line.” What you call “fierce eyes” I call bedroom eyes. That’s a woman who knows what she wants. I’d tee it up.

Masters means one thing to me. Sunday Funday, beer and brisket.

Funny, Vasher, funny.

 I’ll be sure to sit next to you at the next BC board meeting where it will be easier to convey my appreciation of your humorous post.

There’s a dude in my office who wore a different Master’s Polo on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Flew to Augusta on Thursday. Annual ritual.

Great hair.

Does his house back to reserve?

Private putting green and par 3 course.

srr50,

Good call. Doperbo wields his plateware like medical instruments. Besides, you’re probably easier to tackle than closetojumping when I get intentionally overserved. We can share Lundquist stories.

BTW, this was absolutely fantastic, Vasherized.
 
Mocking Golf Pricks never gets old for me.
 
If you’re someone who happens to play some golf, by all means carry on, but the true Golf Prick always self-identifies with rapidity.
 
The persistent Golf Prick notion that you can measure manhood with a sport about as physically taxing as billiards never ceases to amuse and amaze. Particularly when they spend more time preening than a boy band.
  
A bowler may bore you to death with his detailed description of his trip to Las Vegas (stayed at Treasure Island! loved the 4:00pm bufffet – 2 for 1! Hey, that Danny Ganz is really something!), but at least he’ll invite you to eat a casserole with his wife, Madge (collects pewter Princess Diana collectibles!), and won’t ask you what kind of car you drive.

At least when Golf Pricks go to Vegas they go to see live acts rather than dead impressionists.

I’m afraid I’d be an insufferable golf prick if 1) I made more money, and 2) I didn’t suck at golf. Because chinos, polos, sweater vests, and mexican beer on the course are all very special to me.

Golf is a fantastic game if you (a) don’t give a shit, (b) have enough ability to hit a few good shots, © like to drink.

Pretty sure J’Burg isn’t in Europe. ;)

And any excuse for one of my favorite photos (doctored or not):

Well done. Somewhere srr50 is eyeing a rack of concho belts with a fiery gleam in his eye and thinking of you, Vasherized. Sleep well. And set perimeter security.

BTW- the last BC board meeting was a truly memorable affair. Sailor deserves kudos for any venue that I both enjoy hanging out with HenryJames and witness closetojumping and a scared waitress get attacked simultaneously.

Jealousy is such a petty emotion.

I will not let this spoil the most perfect of days.

 I’m of to my 8:50 tee time.

Finish up in time to sit back with our cigars and dos exiques to enjoy the third round of the Masters on a 52in plasma HD screen.

Then off to Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse.

Top off the night with the Elton John Concert at the Erwin Center. (Luxury box seats of course)

Yes jealousy is such a petty emotion.

I saw two guys wearing Masters polos at Blue Fish last night. Concho belters. The new era is going with the white belt. I’m guessing Gundy will lead this movement as well. Odds are he’ll coach a game this season in black pants and a belt that matches Uncle Luther’s sneakers.

I would respond to this but I have new shoes to try out at my 9:15 tee time

That’s a pretty damn good day Srr50. Have fun.

I’m guessing srr50 is passed out in a plate of Denny’s by 5 pm.

That’s a day worth live-blogging though.

So when and where is the FanTake golf tourney? I’ll take the boys from One Foot Down (private school. dicks.) in the calcutta. Sleeper is the crew at Tortilla Retort. The west Texas wind forced them to develop nice knockdown shots that would play well at St. Andrews (old course. dick.)

Just squeeze in 15 minutes of strange and it’s a perfect day indeed.

Coloradoag you would be living dangerously, though your assumption was quite valid. I just happen to be a blended race subway that grew up in West Texas which resulted in something more difficult to explain than Chupacabra. I occasionally make my way to a golf course as I do like to take some hacks now and again if the appropriate amount of beer and tobacco are involved. I usually end up getting the stink eye from the horde of chooches so eloquently described above and tend to revel in it. The dirty looks generally start when a handful of them spot me cramming a 12 pack of Coors Heavy into my bag in the parking lot. By the time I start using an old school Easton Black Magic to tee off half way through the round they are trying to get me tossed out of there. There is an extreme lack of masculinity amongst that bunch.

Slacks and polo with HD TV on wall = golf prick? I get that it pokes fun at Steve Spurrier like people but it seems there are other more worthy segments that deserve bashing, maybe include others just as extreme and trivial as I dunno people who wear Cargo shorts, crocks, uni band oklies, ect. Or how about people who ride on barges or hang out on town lake?

“people who wear Cargo shorts, crocks, uni band oklies, ect. Or how about people who ride on barges or hang out on town lake?”

UFC Prick?

“Just squeeze in 15 minutes of strange and it’s a perfect day indeed.”

I think that’s what Elton is for.

No, Golf Pricks deserve whatever they get. Each of the various categories. Except for old guys who pimp tartan pants and hang out on the golf course all day to get covertly drunk and dodge their wives and chores. I can respect those guys.

Excellent work Vasherized.

mysterious package sounds like one of the guys who would wear his golf shoes to walk and watch the Masters or owns spikeless shoes to wear with formal wear

I had mysterious over the other day to see my ball marker collection

eloy-fred couples approves
shanktown-while i came over i perfomed two in the town one in the brown. it was a very impressive collection

Vasherized’s mom and I wrote a letter (not published) to the editor of the New York Times’s sports section in the early 1980s after attending some US Open tennis matches at the Flushing Meadows, NY tennis facility. We were struck by the countless numbers of Chris Evert and Ivan Lendl and Jimmy Connors and Martina Navratolova wannabees all walking hurriedly around the compound, wearing right-out-of-the-cellophane Fila from head to foot, clutching sheafs of Yonex racquets and with the obligatory US Open duffel bag slung over one shoulder. This was before cellphones so, to look important, these imposters would rudely crash their way through the milling crowds, elbowing all the slow pokes out of their way, glancing frequently at their Swatch watches, muttering, ’What’s the fast way to Court D? Anyone? Can i get a little help here?" Maybe not as obnoxious as Masters P*icks but really annoying and pathetic, nonetheless.

Wrong sport, Dad. Nice story though.

Don’t get all double knit-picky on me.

Awesome, father/son game of catch going on here.

Reminds me of my dad, and the prick type he associates with. Sailing Prick, or maybe it’s Yachting Prick. Whatever it is, it’s glorious to behold. Disclaimer, my old man is not one of these guys. He’s the burly guy doing all the work in the trenches. For them, the garb of choice is Helly Hansen. They truly are an entitled sort. I guess having a $300,000 “hobby” will give one that sense. I’ll give them this though, it takes balls to get out there in the middle of Puget Sound in shitty weather.

I encountered a new subspecies of golf prick yesterday —Airport Lounge Golf Prick.

He’s the guy sitting up close to the TV who turns and gives a scornful look at any other patron who dares utter an observation during the programming.

“Nice Shot, Phil!” gets you a scoff from the ALGP, who after all knows that Phil is on the wrong side of the hole due to his years of playing $1 Wolf at his local club and reading Golf Digest’s in-depth preview of each hole.

Eventually, the ALGP has had enough, or his flight is about to board and he needs to make sure that he is close enough to the front to be the first person to board in Group 4, lest he have to check his oversized carry-on. The rest of us are left to watch in peace.

There is so much awesome here. Excellent work.

alma,

There are at least 20 different subspecies to Golf Prick. ALGP is definitely one of the more insufferable, disgruntled types as their sticks are locked away in cargo and the next round is at least 24 hours away. Just be glad you didn’t run into him in the rental car line.

mag,

The in-laws have an estate (two small cabins) on Lummi Island in the Puget Sound. Pulling a crab pot out of the water at 6 a.m. while caught in a westerly gale is a feeling Golf Prick will never know. Manly man-ness. Salty fortitude rewarded by the sweet Dungeness.

Ambergris Pater,

Do you still write letters to newspaper editors?

Pulling a crab pot out of the water at 6 a.m. while caught in a westerly gale is a feeling Golf Prick will never know. Manly man-ness.

Apparently you have not tried to fish out a brand new pro v1 from an alligator-infested pond on a Florida course.

Airport Lounge Golf Prick has got nothing on Golf Prick at New Orleans during French Quarter Fest/Masters.

At the bar:

“Hey, do you think you could turn up the t.v.? That racket in Jackson Square is loud.”

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