Golf and Other Silliness

Still perturbed at the whole backasswardness of golf and its stupid goddamn rules and overall idiotic way of going about things as evidenced in its full show-your-ass glory at last week's PGA Championship.  A course designed by a lunatic, a rules official who didn't have the goddamn common sense to announce to the idiots standing in what turned out to be a sand trap that they were standing ass deep in the thing (thereby alerting Dustin Johnson that his ball was in a goddamn sand trap when he thought it was simply sitting where some fat guy had just taken a nap), Dustin Johnson grounding his club (on that piece of shit course with 37,000+ sand traps you just should assume that a ball resting on a crap lie is a sand trap), and a dumb ass caddie who didn't have the sense to do what he's paid to do in saving his player.  And, finally, the rules of golf in almost their whole reeking entirety, written by deranged Scots addled by years of dedicated alcoholism and livestock predation.  Perfect drive bombed down the center of the fairway that rolls into a divot?  Tough shit, dude--can't move it even though it is clearly in GROUND UNDER REPAIR.  Anyway, it's an annoying game.  The two takeaways from the PGA are that if you were thinking of taking up golf you have now fortunately regained clarity and will instead get into something more sensible like skydiving or cross dressing, and, that if you do currently play the game you'll never, ever want to get near that tricked up piece of Wisconsin ridiculousness called Whistling Straits.   Not even if Miss Wisconsin is riding buck nekkid in your cart (allegedly pictured below).

After flying back Saturday, unpacked and drove to the course to get in nine holes (had to attend a wedding that evening).  The clubhouse asked if I would play with a couple of guests and it was my pleasure, though I announced to them on the first tee that I would only be able to play the front nine due to having to attend a "goddamn wedding" that night.  A hole later, when exchanging "what do you do's?" with them, "Sam" informed me that he was the new pastor at Great Hills Baptist Church.  "I guess you go to a lot of goddamn weddings, yourself, right Sam?"  Not really, but almost. 

Moved Bulba daughter #2 into my old Alma mater yesterday.  Time flies and life does indeed come full circle at times.  Empty nesters, Mrs. Bulba and I now.  Missing knowing that she's not in the house, even if in her room sleeping or Facebooking or whatever.  Just not there and it is an empty feeling.  We'll get over it but it's a little tough.  Guess we'll have to get around to finally installing those ceiling mirrors in the master.  Or, play more golf.