Where else could flabby white guys in their forties be considered supreme athletes?
Golf is either a sport, a game, boredom framed in green, or as close to religion as it gets for secular guys with bad fashion sense.
We do know golf is the official pastime of the White Anglo-Saxon Ascendancy. Ironically, it is now dominated, as is America, by a semi-black man of near superhuman talents.
Golf is either a sport, a game, boredom framed in green, or as close to religion as it gets for secular guys with bad fashion sense.
We do know golf is the official pastime of the White Anglo-Saxon Ascendancy. Ironically, it is now dominated, as is America, by a semi-black man of near superhuman talents.
Where else could flabby white guys in their forties be considered supreme athletes?
Golf is either a sport, a game, boredom framed in green, or as close to religion as it gets for secular guys with bad fashion sense.
We do know golf is the official pastime of the White Anglo-Saxon Ascendancy. Ironically, it is now dominated, as is America, by a semi-black man of near superhuman talents.
A New Age guru once spoke of golf. He said life is a game and in order to have a game, something has to be more important than something else. A golf course is just a field. So in order to create a game, you have say that mound is more important than this mound. Now, you could throw the ball over there, or simply walk over and drop it, but that wouldn’t be fun. So you hit the ball to the mound with a stick, because that’s fun. Except the guy who has the most fun loses.
Anyway, this is a column about meanings, not birdies, bogies and paunches. So I go for the idea of golf as a re-enactment of the primordial archetype of hunting. A group of men go off together into the woods of a beautiful morning. There is camaraderie and healthy masculine competition. The women have been happily and safely left behind in the cave (or split-level). The men carry their clubs on their backs and venture out with a single-minded fervor to hunt the prey. The clubs are gleaming metal (or forged from space-age composites) and the prey is nothing but a series of holes with flags sticking out. But the archetype holds. Men wouldn’t devote so much time, energy, money and vanished family time chasing a white ball unless an archetype was involved.
I have always found golf annoyingly hard. After all, there is so much world and so little hole.
Apparently, Mark Twain agreed. He called the sport — or game — of golf: “A good walk spoiled.”
Golf is either a sport, a game, boredom framed in green, or as close to religion as it gets for secular guys with bad fashion sense.
We do know golf is the official pastime of the White Anglo-Saxon Ascendancy. Ironically, it is now dominated, as is America, by a semi-black man of near superhuman talents.
A New Age guru once spoke of golf. He said life is a game and in order to have a game, something has to be more important than something else. A golf course is just a field. So in order to create a game, you have say that mound is more important than this mound. Now, you could throw the ball over there, or simply walk over and drop it, but that wouldn’t be fun. So you hit the ball to the mound with a stick, because that’s fun. Except the guy who has the most fun loses.
Anyway, this is a column about meanings, not birdies, bogies and paunches. So I go for the idea of golf as a re-enactment of the primordial archetype of hunting. A group of men go off together into the woods of a beautiful morning. There is camaraderie and healthy masculine competition. The women have been happily and safely left behind in the cave (or split-level). The men carry their clubs on their backs and venture out with a single-minded fervor to hunt the prey. The clubs are gleaming metal (or forged from space-age composites) and the prey is nothing but a series of holes with flags sticking out. But the archetype holds. Men wouldn’t devote so much time, energy, money and vanished family time chasing a white ball unless an archetype was involved.
I have always found golf annoyingly hard. After all, there is so much world and so little hole.
Apparently, Mark Twain agreed. He called the sport — or game — of golf: “A good walk spoiled.”
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