GOLF ETIQUETTE PLEASE
In anticipation of our impending escalation further up the ranks of the bourgeoisie, the wife and I took another half step on the path toward full-fledged membership within the conventions of the American Dream. Today we played golf.
Actually, though, to call what we did golf may be a bit of an overstatement. As evidence, I present our scorecard.
If you cannot tell, we only played six holes because we grew tired and decided it was time to make dinner. Furthermore our respective cumulative scores for those six holes were forty-four and sixty-seven respectively.
You see, we have free memberships at the course attached to the college where the wife teaches. We do in fact have golf clubs, but other than the facts that we have said clubs and swing them at what are known as golf balls on an authentic golf course, our activity bears little genuine resemblance to golf as it is normally conceived.
But, nonetheless, today we were out there, playing golf, and with each swing – misses included – poor Marx rolled over yet another time, shuddering at the excess in which we were indulging. What further bourgeois decadences may ensue once we take possession of out oversized home – only time will tell.
But today, we reveled in putting aside the looming anxiety over unseen papers shuffling through unknown hands in unimaginable offices, and in ignoring the growing necessity of packing up an overfilled three-room apartment. Today we played golf.
Actually, though, to call what we did golf may be a bit of an overstatement. As evidence, I present our scorecard.
If you cannot tell, we only played six holes because we grew tired and decided it was time to make dinner. Furthermore our respective cumulative scores for those six holes were forty-four and sixty-seven respectively.
You see, we have free memberships at the course attached to the college where the wife teaches. We do in fact have golf clubs, but other than the facts that we have said clubs and swing them at what are known as golf balls on an authentic golf course, our activity bears little genuine resemblance to golf as it is normally conceived.
But, nonetheless, today we were out there, playing golf, and with each swing – misses included – poor Marx rolled over yet another time, shuddering at the excess in which we were indulging. What further bourgeois decadences may ensue once we take possession of out oversized home – only time will tell.
But today, we reveled in putting aside the looming anxiety over unseen papers shuffling through unknown hands in unimaginable offices, and in ignoring the growing necessity of packing up an overfilled three-room apartment. Today we played golf.
2 Comments:
I very much hope that you will take me to play golf (perhaps twice) when I come to visit. I love playing golf -- and this comes from someone who hasn't technically done it (i.e., play golf) since 1993.
PSM-- If you so desire, golf will be played -- in the loosest sense of the term of course.
Huzzah!
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