So last night I got together with some friends to go see the film, The A-Team at a bar/movie theater called Brewvies. It is a brilliant concept where you can get food and drinks and then take them into the movie with you to enjoy while you watch the film. It’s really nice in the sense that you don’t need to smuggle any liquor in to the theater because you can just by it there.
Once we had our pitchers of beer (for those drinking) and out two orders of nachos, we headed into the theater. Traditionally films start about 15 to 20 minutes late, and last night was no exception. The previews rolled by and the movie began. As the film start you are slowly introduced to some of the main characters through a series of action scenes. As mayhem ensues, and a climactic moment is reached, where the good guys rush in to save one of their own, the sound completely cuts in the theater.
Thus begins a barrage of yelling, popcorn throwing, and all around grumbling. Then one solitary person out of the audience, keeping in spirit to what made the old television show so great, yells out, “Bah Bahbah Bah, Buh bah baa…”
And that was all it took, the entire audience took his lead and all of us start belting out The A-Team theme song. As the scene continued to move forward without any sound, we continued sing out that unforgettable little theme song that made the show that much better and memorable. Once the sound came back on and we stopped singing, it didn’t matter what came next, I was going to enjoy this film whether it deserved it or not. I rarely get the opportunity to spontaneously break into song with an audience full of strangers, and let me just say that for the record… it is sooooo much better that I ever imagined possible!
I was in an audience of strangers that all had at least one thing in common, a youth filled love for a bad 80s television series. If film sucked, I really didn’t notice that much. I mean I know it wasn’t a good film, but for those two hours I just didn’t care. I was amongst my A-Team friends, and I for one, thanks to everyone there enjoying the film with me, was thoroughly entertained.
Thanks A-Team theme song, for making us laugh at the A-Team… again.
Google Images, key word: A-Team
This year for the Summer Solstice I wanted to get something that paid homage to the solstice, but also utilizing the one thing that the solstice has plenty of… sunlight. So I bought myself the perfect solstice gift, a watch. And not just any watch, oh no, I bought a watch that would enable me to take advantage of the extended sunlight of the day. I did go a bit old school on the style of the watch though, but I felt it really captured essence of the whole solstice paradigm. I bought a sundial wrist watch. Really. It has no hidden watch on the inside or anything like that. It’s just a legitimate, possibly accurate time piece that can only be used during the day… make that a clear sunny day.
I’ve been told that it really will tell time, but I have to be facing true north and the watch must be resting on a level surface. Now had the watch come with a compass and leveler that would have definitely added to the practical applications of the watch. So far it’s only proved to be good for the following:
- 29 laughs
- 18 “Why?”
- 1 “Dude, can I copy you?”
- 2 “I’m not surprised?”
- 6 raised eye brows
- 3 “Of course you did!”
- 5 “So what time is it?”
- And about 59 “Does it really work?” (Which covers everyone I’ve shown it to.)
And that is all within less than one 24 hour period. Not bad results for such a short amount of time.
Solstice was celebrated in the way that all solstices should be celebrated, with friends, a fire pit, some really yummy no bake cookies, very tasty wine, and a release and proclamation ceremony. Meaning you write down the things you want to let go of and give thanks for the purpose they served in your life and set them on fire… releasing them. Then you have another piece of paper that you fill with your goals and intentions for the next year. Then you either save them to read as a daily reminder, or you burn them too, depending on the way you want your solstice ceremony to go. It was a little like a New Year’s resolutions party, but much, much warmer.
One thing I noticed throughout the evening, the homage to fire that people seem compelled to give. Wood kept being stacked on the fire pit, keeping the flames dancing as the sun went down. Soon we had people with sticks burning at both ends, being twirled and tossed into the air. Sharing some fire dancing techniques learned at a class they took a few years back. Apparently fire dancing is a lot like riding a bike. Only when you start again, it’s a very slow bike moving forward with very careful and precise pedal pushing.
Soon others were playing with the fire stick, practicing slowly, spinning it around them or waving it in the air as if it were a sparkler on steroids. It reminded me of the neighbor’s fence I caught on fire when I was a boy, secretly learning about the power and limits of a flame, a Bic lighter, and a can of hair spray. I only charred about a two foot by three foot section of fence, and lied about it until just last year when we were having dinner at my parents house and I told them that I was actually the one who did that. Can you believe they refused to give me any ice cream for dessert as punishment? Talk about holding a grudge.
The other thing I noticed about the party was the kids. Yes, it was one of those little people friendly parties. The interesting thing is that all of the kids, the ones 4 years old to 19 years old were all hanging out together and away from the adults. I’m not complaining mind you. It seemed to work out well for everyone, and it was cute to see that all the kids banded together, creating a “no old people” club while all the people with, well, jobs and wine were left alone to act like “old people.” Ah, how times have changed… a change that I actually feel quite good about. The older little people can watch the younger little people, and the older people can chat and drink wine. I’d say this is the first step into creating a perfect world.
A Merry Summer Solstice to you all… How was your solstice?
Google Images, key words: sundial watch, summer solstice, fire dancing, and friend drinking wine.
Movies, we all know what one looks like after it’s had its 15 minutes and then walks the path of inevitable DVDism. And even though I gather most of my film consumption via DVD, I have even been known to do the occasional theater experience as well. I’d like to say it’s better, but you know how it goes, once you get there you find need for a tub of popcorn and a soda usually costs you slightly more than your first born, and if you want to get some Junior Mints to go along with that, you have to haggle with yourself on whether making your car payment that month is really more important than a box of processed dark chocolate stuffed with a foreign substance that is the equivalent of a aftermath of a candy canes sneeze. Sad thing is, sometimes we actually decide that chocolate covered peppermint boogers are worth being a little late on the car payment for the month.
There are some films that I think are enhanced by seeing them on the big screen. Granted, most of this enhancement comes from watching a film in a theater full of devoted fans as opposed to watching it with a group of people that are only in the theater because they want to get out of the summer heat. Fan excitement is a power to be reckoned with. Because of fan excitement I have found myself in the past enjoying the hell out of an incredibly mediocre film. Then again the opposite can happen as well. You can go to a rather exciting and entertaining film and if you happen to be surrounded by a collection of people jacked up on Ritalin, there is a chance it’s going to lose some of its splendor.
One of the magical aspects of the cinema is that it is an entertainment medium that gives every person that watches it the self proclaimed title of film critic. When first starting out as a film critic the initial practice of rating a film is very Roman in origin. A film either receives a thumbs up, meaning that it should be allowed to live so that others can experience the same viewing pleasure that you received. Or you give it a thumbs down, which simply means that you would recommend going to the dentist for a root canal as a viable entertainment option as opposed to seeing the film.
The situation that then follows is a result of film makers not holding themselves to a higher standard, or it could just be that the industry is flooded with trite and uninspiring film makers. The result is the relentless flow of films that are not good, but they don’t really suck either. This requires the novice film critic to add a new dimension to their film rating system. Enter the three star system:
1 Star = Hated it.
2 Star = It was ok.
3 Star = Loved it.
As opinions about film grow, so does the range of your ability to review a film, thus increasing your rating system to a five points, stars, A through F or something similar. For today’s purposes and to add clarity, I’m going to borrow Netflix’s five-star system and their definitions. It breaks down like this:
1 Star = Hated It
2 Star = Didn’t Like It
3 Star = Liked It
4 Star = Really Liked It
5 Star = Loved It
The problem I have with this is that there are way too many movies out there that evoke absolutely no emotion at all, or just fail to exceed any of your movie watching expectations, thus creating a completely new movie going experience. These are what I predominantly call background movies. Something you can put on in the background, while you are doing something else. The film really doesn’t have enough merit to encourage you to pay attention to them, meaning they are easy to ignore.
For me these are movies that earn my 3 Star rating. The nice thing about these films is their utter lack of interest, so it’s easy to work on other things and focus on other things while these movies play. This is the main reason movies I disliked or hated don’t fall into this category. Movies you dislike are instilling in you a negative response or an unpleasant emotion. On a personal note, if you are of the disposition that you need noise while you create and your preferred background noise is a television, please never create while a film that affects you negatively is playing. It’s just a bad way to create in my opinion.
Here is my personal 5 Star film rating system:
- 5 Star = Loved it. I am going to purchase this film when it comes out for my personal collection and worth watching a few times.
- 4 Star = Exceeded my expectations and worth the time I spent watching it.
- 3 Star = Met most to all of my expectations. An ok film… or in other words, out of all the movies I’ve ever seen that definitely was one.
- 2 Star = Mostly worthless. Met few to no expectations I had for the film.
- 1 Star = Screw you movie! That is two hours of my life I will never get back. I am actually stupider because I have watched this film. It might also be comparable to a vomit milkshake. (There are few movies that I hate this much, but there are some.)
If it makes sense to you, please feel free to adopt it and raise it as one of your own.
Also, based on that system, here are a few movies that I’ve seen that fall into each category:
1 Star = There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, and Star Trek 5
2 Star = Aeon Flux, Burn After Reading, and Jerry Maguire
3 Star = Across the Universe, Crazy Heart, and Dances with Wolves
4 Star = The Breakfast Club, Dear Frankie, and O Brother, Where Art Thou?
5 Star = Harvey, The Hudsucker Proxy, and Stranger than Fiction
I do need to point out that I think for all people there is a kind of holy writ of viewing euphoria. It is very personal to the viewer and overflows with nostalgia, carrying with it such joy and appreciation that you could have it playing nonstop for days at a time. And whether you are paying attention or not, it’s fine, because you know that when you do stop and pay attention, it is always going to put a smile on your face, unconsciously causing you to appreciate everything in life that much more. It’s a kind of bliss movie, a blovie if you will. See even the word makes you smile. For me, it would have to be MST3K (or one of its off shoots), and for my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie its old Shirley Temple films. There is something permeatingly happy about watching Angela watch Shirley. They are a bit contagious in that regard.
So, what are some of your blovies?
Google Images, key words: watching movies, thumbs up, bored audience, and MST3K.
I remembered my towel today, and I didn’t panic once. Plus, I do believe I understand the psyche of Linus much better now as well. I did notice that there were a number of people at work today that gave me a noticeable glance of confused inquiry when I walked into the office with a towel draped over my satchel. The nice thing about towel accompaniment is that when you enter a situation where people are in the midst of panic you know you are going to be just fine, and you know why? Because you remembered your towel.
I figure this is the reason why these people only hurriedly glance in my direction as opposed to deliberate staring, or conversing with me as to why I had a towel. I would dare venture to say that the only people smiling at me were people who had also come to work today with a towel, but I was the only towel wielding one in the place. So venturing to say that would do no good. I did explain to a few friends in upper management my towel toting ensemble was a result of it being Towel Day, but this really didn’t help the confusion. So I gave them the history of this panic free day of remembrance.
Towel day first started in 2001, just two weeks after the sudden and premature death of author Douglas Adams. And since its incarnation, on every 25th of May for the past nine years, fans of Douglas display their love and appreciation of both the author and his works by toweling around for the day with a towel.
For those of you not familiar with the work of Douglas and therefore are a bit lost in regards to the towel homage being giving, here is my public service for the day. Here is the origin of the greatness of the towel, found in Chapter 3 of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have “lost”. What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.”
— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Douglas captured my creative appreciation when I first introduced to him by my brother Dave, who gave me a copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy for my 16th birthday. It was groovy enough that upon turning 16, I was legal to drive a car without supervisor, but to top it off I had a guide book, which even though it never helped me get a date, at least it reassured me that I would never be as depressed and Marvin, and encouraged me to always know where my towel was.
At 16 “The Guide” was a novelty and a source of a good laugh, but I never really let myself marinade in its Douglasian wit. It was a good read and a recommendation that I would give to others, but I never sought for more. My true appreciation for Douglas didn’t develop until he was, well, post Douglas and I read The Salmon of Doubt for the first time. There was something about the person Douglas that others wrote about that captured my true appreciation for the writer Douglas. The short articles that filled the first half of Salmon of The Doubt kept me laughing out at his wit, wordplay, and perspective on life that makes the loss of Douglas that much more reminiscent of Vogon poetry.
Since it is Towel Day and I am going to share a few of my Douglas related tokens I received this year, both from one of my new Facebook friends John Palfrey. The first is a nugget of Douglas trivia. Apparently, according to the book Pigs Might Fly by Mark Blake, The Inside Story of Pink Floyd, David Gilmour and Douglas Adams were best mates… I had no idea. So to those of you that didn’t know, you’re welcome (thanks John), and if you happen to be one of those that did know, you have all earned yourself the brown Arts & Literature Trivial Pursuit triangle. Well done and roll again.
The other thank you to John is for sending me the photo he took of Douglas’ headstone a few years back. Yes, that is a toy dolphin setting on top of it. There are some sayings that seem to find their perfect place in time and space. Creating a type of literary immortality where, as long as there are people who read, these phrases will live on. Some have been tried by time and translation, and are here for the long count. Phrases like, “And it came to pass”, “To be or not to be”, and “When in Rome.”
Then there are some sayings that are so poignant that even in their own time they catch a people’s minds and hearts and will not go gently into that good night. These phrases include “I have a dream”, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself”, and, of course, “So long and thanks for all the fish.” There are words that tie humanity together. Phrases that inspire in us, give us joy, strengthen our resolve, fill us with passion, bring us together in unity, and fill us with laughter. Douglas always had a gift at the latter of those.
Apart from all the unsure and panic stricken glances that today held, I did have, what I believe alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity, which was this… regardless how you feel about Douglas or his canon of Hitchhiking tales, there is one irrevocable truth that encompasses today… As long as we live in a world where there are towels, we will have a world that remembers Douglas Adams.
Did any of you remember your towel today?
Image Source: John Palfrey and Google Images, key words: Towel Day, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and The Salmon of Doubt.
I am a bit plagued at the moment, and have been since Sunday evening. No, it is not because I have killed and eaten that damn bird that yes, still flurries against my bedroom window every morning. I will say, at least after a few weeks it’s finally starting to wear down. It now only attacks the window once every 20 to 30 minutes instead of the repetitious attacks that it was so fond of when I first decided that the window was a worthy adversary.
As for the plague, it’s not your traditional “I’m not dead yet” kind of plague. It is however a plague that I imagine everyone has suffered from more than once throughout their life. I’ve honestly lost track of how many times I’ve had it myself. This time is a little more aquatic in theme. I’ve been thinking in a rather repetitious way that I’d like to be… under the sea, spending some time in the shade of an octopus’s garden. Yes, I’ve acquired the infamous “song stuck in my head” plague. And this time around I’m stuck regurgitating an underwater tune that a quartet from Liverpool first sang about back in 1969. I think blaming my friend Kyle for this might be feasible. He’s the one that got me a ticket to the play that I heard the song at. Along with the blame I suppose I also need to thank him, because it was a really good show.
One of the theatre companies in Salt Lake is called SLAC, Salt Lake Acting Company, who just so happens to be turning 40 this next year… well done there. I usually make it to one show a year, and this year I even though I’m planning on going to their next show, I really had no plans on seeing the one I went to on Sunday. The play was called Charm. It’s a new play from a now local playwright named Kathleen Cahill. I believe she’s been in Utah for around three years now. The performance was even a World Premiere. Ohhh I know, sounds impressive doesn’t it? I think it just means that SLAC was the first place on this planet to officially perform the play. It is pretty cool to be able to have that as a snobbish theatre conversation piece. It’s like being that person that saw U2 perform in a pub in front of 25 people and purchased one of their demo cassettes because they thought they just might go somewhere. Or in short, this is one of my “I knew them before they were famous” stories.
One of those truly great moments in life is when you go to see a performance while in a state of ignorance. I had no idea what the play was about and I had no idea what to expect, and the show consistently exceeded any expectations I could have put on it had I known what to expect. I mean when you have no expectations for a show and then leave the show disappointed or unmoved, that is a tragedy. But for this performance, I walked out of the show jovial and assured in my belief that the world is a brilliant place. It made my good day a great day.
The show was, as the program put it, “Magical, surreal and transcendentally goofy.” It was a mostly satirical look at the life of one Margaret Fuller. She was a free spirit that lived in the 1800’s (1810 to 1850). She was very well educated and had managed to accomplish a few firsts in her day. Here are a few things I think are worth knowing about Margaret:
- She was the first full time book reviewer in journalism.
- She was a supporter of woman’s rights, woman’s education and the right to employment.
- She also encouraged prison reform and the emancipation of slaves in the US.
- She became the first woman allowed to use the Harvard College library.
- She became the New York Tribune’s first female correspondent covering the Italian revolution.
- Nathaniel Hawthorne friendship with her used her personality for the inspiration for the character Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter.
A fare share of this is touched upon in the play. At first I thought a lot of the claims were embellished, because that is what I’ve come to expect from productions about historical figures. I really didn’t think that all of these claims were true. The play definitely peaked my interest about Margaret, and got me researching and reading up on her life. Her early departure from her life was a true tragedy. She only lived 40 years, and was traveling back from Italy with her lover, their child and her newest manuscript. The ship crashed 100 yards from Fire Island, New York and went down. None of their bodies were recovered and the manuscript was forever lost. I know it’s sad, still… what a full 40 years.
Charm took a look, a very playful look, at the relationships between Margaret and Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne. The enjoyment of the play was only reinforced by the consistently strong performance by the entire cast. The set and props were minimal, and the movement and freedom it gave to the performers only added to my overall enjoyment of the play. I’d suggest that if you don’t have any plans between now and Sunday, and you live in the Salt Lake area, you should go check out this show. Sadly, it does ends on Sunday May 9th… so take you mom to it as well. I did do a little internet rummaging and it looks like Charm is part of the 2011 lineup at the Orlando Shakespeare Theater. It’s a piece that is definitely worth the two hours you spend watching it.
All that being said, it was during the performance that I heard the tune Octopus’s Garden, which I’ve never really given a lot of listening to. I mean, I think the Beatles are ok, but I don’t love them. I only own one of their CDs and it was a gift from a friend back in 1995 I think. I’ve listened to it a few times over the years, but I really do mean only a few time, like maybe 6 times tops in 15 years. I did go to a Beatles cover band concert last summer, which was a lot of fun. It was an outdoor concert and they were playing with the Utah Symphony Orchestra. I rained a lot I remember, but there was something wonderful about dancing to the Beatles outside on the side of a mountain in a soft cool summer rain with a glass of wine in my hand… it just made for a good night all the way around.
The point is, because I was in such an excessively good mood because of the play, that, when song came on, I connected it with how happy I was at that moment. Now, and for the past few days, I have been continually singing that song to myself and smiling the whole time. Even last night, as I was laying in bed, exhausted and trying to fall asleep, I was half humming, half snoring the melody of Octopus’s Garden to myself. It is subsiding some, but even as I write this and am listening to Neil Young in the background I’m still humming and singing to myself… “I like to be… under the sea… in an octopus’s garden in the shade…”
What of some of your “stuck in your head” songs?
Goggle Images, key words: Charm by Kathleen Cahill, sleeping birds, Margaret Fuller, and octopus’s garden.
Years ago I was spending some time in Washington state and became friends with a wonderful retired couple whose names I no longer remember. I do recall that the husband was a golfer though. Not a casual player, no he was an everyday kind of player. He even had a small side business where he would custom make putters, which really were works of art and created with a great deal of love for the game. Out of all the times I visited them there was one conversation that always comes to mind when I think about them. The husband was talking about going to a course that next morning to which his wife reminded him that he was going to be golfing on the Sabbath and asked if he thought it was a good idea to miss church because of golf. Then, almost instantaneously he replied, “But honey, golf is 2/3’s god.” He smiled at her, I started laughing, and she rolled her eyes and walked out of the room, thus ending conversation.
For some, golf is the heaven on Earth. For others it’s an incredible waste of land and natural resources. For example, keeping a lush green course alive and well in a place like Las Vegas. As for my perspective on golf, I have played the game. I have even purchased my own clubs. Granted, I only have three clubs and the first two, a pitching wedge and a 5 iron, I got for a dollar each from a thrift shop. I also own a 2 wood, which I purchased for 20 dollars from a Kmart that was going out of business and everything in the store was on clearance. I even keep the clubs in the trunk of my car for years with no bag to put them in. They just rolled around in the trunk along with an empty tennis ball container, a cardboard box filled with cleaning supplies.
When people see the clubs in my trunk there is always a pause of confusion. I get asked if I play, but it’s always an unsure question because I only have three clubs and they are pretty sure positive that I can’t play with only three clubs. I tell them the truth… yes, I do play, just not in the conventional way. And I only need those three clubs to play. Oh, and I only play once every 3 years or so, although I have been known to visit a driving range about once a year to hit a bucket with some coworkers.
So what is Rich Golf? It’s more a game of adventure with golf added into the mix. And I always make sure I bring a Baby Ruth with me in the event I run into a Sloth type character lurking in the rough. To begin with, I borrow a golf ball from one of the friends I am golfing.
Here’s my qualm with regular golf, the better you do, the less you get for your money. If you are playing 9 holes of golf and you get par every time, you get to hit the ball around what 30 to 40 times? Now my logic is that if it takes me 60 strokes instead of 30 I am getting twice as much play time for my money. To give you a clear understanding of my skill in this game, finishing a 9 hole game with a total of 60 hits of the ball is quite exceptional for me. On the average thought I’d say 10 hits before I get the ball in the hole is pretty standard and something I pride myself on. In the game of Rich Golf that is a fairly accomplished feat.
Treasure hunting is the other aspect of Rich Golf, which adds a whole new level of personal entertainment to the game. The rule is you have to try to keep it on the fairway when hitting the ball. Because I my excessive skill in hitting the golf ball in a way that makes it spin dramatically off course like a race car on icy roads. I spend about half of the game in the tall grass and tree filled areas. The thing about venturing off the padded grass path is that this is where I start building up my collection, no make that my bounty of surplus golf balls. I do attempt to find the golf ball I was using. I also begin looking for any homeless golf balls that happen to be living in the tall grass or wooded areas. The rule is that you have to stop searching for rogue golf balls once you find the one you hit into the rough. Unless you can’t find it, in that case you drop a new ball after 10 minutes of searching.
It’s so entertaining for me to come running out of the woods with 6 golf balls in the side pockets of my cargo pants that I did not have before (cargo pants are a must for this game, you need lots of pockets and storage space). I keep a running tally for the whole game. I always come out ahead too, which is another way you win while playing Rich Golf. I think my personal best over the past 10 years, by the end of the 9th hole, was 32 golf balls ahead. I was unable to return the ball I had borrowed, mainly because I had lost it, but did make up for that one lost golf ball. My record game was in Logan, Utah. It was a morning game too. Three friends and I headed to the links? Court? Field? Course… and it was by far one of the most amusing, entertaining, and playful games of Rich Golf I have ever played. My friends told me I came in last, but I think they meant that in the traditional sense of the game.
I never keep the golf balls for two reasons. I don’t have any place to keep them and since I only play golf with friends and they always have traditional golf equipment, why not let them keep the surplus of found golf balls to use at some later time. I know they actually play the game more than once every few years. The second reason, I wouldn’t feel right about keeping them. It’s like buying chocolates from Belgium and then keeping them in the box waiting for a special occasion to eat them. Not allowing inanimate objects fulfill the purpose and function of their existence is not only sacrilege, but it’s incredibly… well it makes me want to eat ice cream when I’m not in the mood to eat ice cream, and that is just not right, period. It might make a little more sense if I point out that I’m really not a big ice cream person either.
Some of you might be wondering how playing 9 holes of golf with just three clubs works especially then none of those clubs fall into the putter category. Putters are highly overrated and in my case never necessary. I either use my wood in a very soft tapping style, or I just use a clubs long section that has the grippy bits at the end and use it in a pool cue fashion to hit the ball into the hole. Besides, with only three clubs I just walk around with the three of them in only one hand. I then drop the two I don’t need for the shot and use the club that feels right. I do think that the more clubs you have the more befuddled the constricting the game becomes. I do think I might attempt using two clubs next time instead of three, you know, just to gauge the doability of the thing.
There is one alteration that may happen to my game though. A few weeks ago I lent my car to a friend to drive to Boise Idaho to help a friend pack up his house and move. When he got back and returned the car, he had me open the trunk. Inside was an old black and pink golf club bag fill will old, weather beaten clubs. He explained that as he was helping his friend move he noticed that a neighbor had placed the old bag of clubs out on the curb as trash for the garbage man to pick up and take away. So he grabbed it for me. There nestled in with the collection of old golf clubs were my three clubs, looking happy to have a bag to call home. I really have only one gripe. It’s not that they are women’s clubs, which they are, but I could care less about that. The problem is that they are right handed clubs.
Now I might be a lot of things, but right handed was never one of those… except for using scissors. It’s not my fault though. I blame it on the fact that I only had access to right-handed scissors in elementary school. I also believe that this is why I cannot make that Vulcan “live long and prosper” hand gesture with my left hand. I can make it with my right hand as easy as a monkey flings… er, messy stuff. But I cannot for the life of me make that symbol with my left hand, unless I can cheat and tape my pinky and forth finger together.
With this new bag addition to the game I have thought about keeping a golf ball for myself the next time I go. That way I will have my own starting ball the next time I go. Since having that initial thought the motion has been vetoed and will not be becoming a practice for my game. Borrowing that first ball is at the core what the game is about. An initial act of trust and kindness that is extended to you, which is repaid at the end of the game by the reciprocating act of giving them the entire golf ball treasure you collected throughout the game. It’s a brilliant moment when you ask your friend to hold out their hands and you begin unloading your golf ball filled pockets into their hands. Once you get to number fifteen they usually start laughing so hard they can no longer hold them all and they spill all over the ground as you keep handing them ball after ball after ball. It’s the perfect ending to a perfect game.
Do you have any sports that you altered to make your own?
Google Images, key words: man golfing, sloth goonies, treasure, golf balls, using golf club as pool cue, Shatner Vulcan fail, and handful of golf balls.