And despite all this, there’s still something worse and more pointless than playing golf…
Watching golf on TV. 
Good OP!
Fuck golf. A collossal, egregious, arrogant waste of time, money, and real estate, that it is.
Although, miniature golf is kinda fun now and then.
Golf becomes worthwhile when you watch Tiger Woods self-destruct after being assessed a two-stroke penalty which drops him out of the top 10.
So, you were ordered to the links why?
Actually I’ve golfed maybe twice in my life, but wish I were better at it. It’s always struck me as a relaxing pastime once you’re good enough not to suck at it.
Did you have to give your golf club a girls name?
For those of you with a violent aversion to the game of golf and a marksman’s eye, I propose firearms golf with the following rules:
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Remember: safe direction, hearing protection, and adequate backstops at all times, and this game is suggested entirely tongue-in-cheek. (For those that are English or humor impaired, I’m only kidding, and do not advocate that this “Game” be played in real life.)
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The Drive off the Tee – In rotation, the caddy (who, face it, is better with that 9 iron than you are) will drive the ball off the tee. The player will attempt to shot it out of the air with a shotgun. You have unlimited shots until the ball first strikes the ground. Should the player succeed, s/he is awarded a hole-in-one.
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The ball lands in the rough or on the fairway – The player will, from the tee off location fire well aimed shots in prone position from a rifle equiped with a scope no more powerful than 7x. each shot fired will count as a stroke, until the ball is hit. Rangefinders are prohibited eqipment as part of this exercise is range estimation. A two shot penalty is assessed should the ball land within 50 yards of the Tee but further than 20 yards, which will be waived if the player elects to use a rifle equiped only with iron sights to play the shot. A ball landing within twenty yards will be assessed a one shot penalty and will be played from the Tee again.
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The ball lands on the putting green – The player will choose to play the ball either from the edge of the green or from the hole location, taking into account the factors of range and safe direction. The player will then attempt to hit the ball with a pistol, again, each shot counting as a stroke, until the ball is hit.
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The person with the lowest overall score wins, the person with the highest, has just had the most target practice.
Have fun…
Pull!.. I Mean Fore!
-DF
I don’t “golf”. I play golf.
More accurately, my best friend visits twice a year, and we go out, drink a lot of beer, and chase after a little white ball vying for the title of Mr. Hockey.
In contrast, my wife’s cousins “golf”. They obsess over clubs and shoe spikes. They’re weird.
Could be worse. You coulda been forced to play in Clovis, NM!
Dude, there is no way that we could possibly do infinity push-ups.
I spent the majority of my formative years chasing cows around a pasture. Why the hell would I want to chase a little white ball around a pasture?
Golf pisses me off for all the reasons given in this thread. Another thing that pisses me off about golf is what happened to my sister several years ago. She was driving by a golf course situated along a busy thoroughfare. A stray golf ball hit her car and damaged her car’s windshield. Did the golf course assume any liability? NOOOOOOO! Of course not! My sister fought with the golf course’s owner/manager, but they refused to pay for her car’s windshield. My sister stopped short of suing the golf course and got the windshield repaired on her own insurance. At the very least this golf course could at least install some netting to catch stray balls.
That’s why New Zealanders button their flies.
(Unless you wanted to work up an … appetite.)
(I’ll go now.)
Where else could 4 teenagers each sneak a six-pack of their favorite brew and drink it undisturbed and having a great time learning golf and laughing at each other in the process?
That alone makes golf cool. If you hate golf, then your priorities are/were fucked up. It’s about having fun, not sucking up to “The Man”. “The Man” probably wanted to know if your a human capable of having fun, not an uptight individual out of his elements. “The Man” already knows what you do in the office, he just wants to know how well-rounded you are outside of the office. Offer him a chance to go fishing with you so you can regain some of that well-roundedness back.
Oh, don’t forget to fuck golf charity, too. :rolleyes:
I’m in a golf tournament for a charity for the developmentally disabled next Monday. I wish I could do this every week instead of working, and I wish I could have employees that are willing to play (or learn to play) golf…out of 50+ (unfortunately, most are mothers with school-aged kids), I have nobody. Now that sucks.
You know what the funny thing is? The guys I mostly golf with are my oldest son’s hockey coaches and other hockey players. Coincidence? Hockey players love to golf. Googled: Hockey players in golf tournament
Because I was caught off guard, and didn’t think of a convincing, plausible excuse to get me out of it, “I’d love to Sir, but I have a root canal at 1300” . . . or . . . “I’d like to go, but I have to go inventory the paint cans in the HAZMART.” . . . or . . . “I’d love to, Sir, but I’ve got a big test in underwater basket archeology at the Ed Center scheduled.”
So basically, it was my own damn fault that I let him. I try to use those excuses sparingly, like, only when I really need 'em (like, when they’re true).
Maybe it was just God’s way of reminding me I fucking hate golf. :rolleyes:
Tripler
Good one, O Lord. :smack:
Carl Spackler: So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I’m a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald… striking. So, I’m on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga… gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he’s gonna stiff me. And I say, “Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.” And he says, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.” So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.
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Al Czervik: [after accidentally hitting Judge Smails in the crotch with his golf ball] I should have yelled, “Two!”
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Ty Webb: I’m going to give you a little advice. There’s a force in the universe that makes things happen. And all you have to do is get in touch with it, stop thinking, let things happen, and be the ball.
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Tony D’Annunzio: Another Rob Roy, Bishop?
Bishop: You never ask a navy man if he’ll have another drink, because it’s nobody’s goddamned business how much he’s had already.
Judge Smails: Wrong, you’re drinking too much your Excellency.
Bishop: Excellency, fiddlesticks, my name’s Fred and I’m a man, same as you.
Judge Smails: You’re not a man, you’re a bishop, for God’s sakes.
Bishop: There is no God…
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Is it just me, or does that seem an extraordinarily long fucking time between holes?
Briefs or boxers?
I played the best round of my life Thursday, 2 hours after oral surgery and whacked on pain killers. Reminiscent of the preacher’s round in Caddyshack, it was.
The secret to a smooth swing and lawndart style golf? Simple… Darvon. YPMV.
Oh yes, golf, that worst of games…
I think my hatred for the game comes from the fact that several of the very few times my estranged father bothered to actually spend any time with me when I was growing up was to take me golfing. It became obvious to me after the third or fourth time that getting to know me, his firstborn son, was second to competing with his jerk friends in this horrid, hot, boring game.
Golf: the sport of jerks.
I really do like golf in certain forms.
I grew up a few miles from a “semi-private” course, meaning they had memberships, but it also allowed public play. When I was in high school I used to either played 18-27 holes every morning (if I worked the late shift at my job) or I played 18 holes every afternoon (if I worked an early shift). On days off, I’d play 18-36 holes. I golfed 6-7 days per week.
I practiced golf! I practiced putting. I practiced chipping. I practiced sand. I praticed weird shots from bad lies. Every day was a challenge to go out and play better than before. . .a constant battle against those little imperfections. A constant battle to maintain concentration on every shot for 4 hours straight, and the feeling that every single stroke was important.
The men I played with were mostly teachers, off for the summer and golfing every day. It was laid back, fun. We chose teams. We played for money. Had our own stupid jokes.
I could wear shorts and a T-Shirt with a hat on backwards, and my pony tail sticking out the back. We all walked ever hole.
Now, it’s not so much fun. Courses here are either public or private. Private courses really are filled with massive pomposity. . .people who chase the latest in gear without having the game to back it up. You need MONEY just to buy the priviledge of being able to buy a membership. You get stuck with fees. My in-laws are at one of these places, but I’d never a join. You need to dress well. You need to spend money at the grill every month. It’s really crazy.
A public course, you can’t get a starting time for. You’re surrounded by people who don’t know the etiquette (which is important). They play slow, make noise.
When I play with guys from work, they’re taking mulligans, they’re taking gimmes. The only thing that keeps golf interesting are the rules and when you start breaking the rules, you’re just not playing golf anymore.
No one walks. I hate taking a cart. I like carrying my bag and having all my sticks with me at all times. I like getting the (moderate) exercise of carrying a 20 pound bag for 4-5 miles.
I still like playing with Dad. We both respect the rules and play competitive matches against each other.
Golf is great competition. The problem is you need to be knowledgeable of the rules and have a modicum of ability before it becomes as fun as it can be.
And, while beer is one of my favorite things on earth, (cite) I don’t think it has anything to do with what I enjoy about golf.
Yet another reason I hate golf: “taking Mulligans”.
There are no ‘Mulligans’ in baseball. There are no ‘Mulligans’ in hockey. If you can’t play it right the first time, there are no fucking do-overs. Go fuck yourself if you can’t hit a ball straight. . .
Tripler
Shit, I can pass a puck straight, on ice . . .