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Air ball – off the tee box, that should begin coming down when we get out there! Houston we have lift off! From the song – What goes up must come down!

Powerful swing or hit – He is as strong as an ox – and twice as smart!

Bad round – Oh I was just practicing my sandbagging techniques!

Hitting into homes – Guess who’s going to small claims court?

Mediocre hit – I think your ego got in the way, next time get a death grip and swing harder.

Slow play – While we’re young! He who hesitates, has to wait a little bit longer!

For rule meisters – Well the USGA (according to John) necessitates a free drop two club lengths, no closer to the tee box. Does not! Does too!

Tree trouble – The ladies arboretum society will be addressing you after this round.

Tees – Difficulty placing ball on tee. You know the club is holding a fall tee school next week.

Islamic school of thought for poor shot – What man proposes, Allah disposes!

Lip outs – are called prom putts, all lip, and no hole!

Near miss – is a debutant hit (nearly a Miss)!

Short putts – Is it true, real men don’t put their thong one leg at a time, or the package goes toward the front, or did your club got caught in your dress?

Putts that won’t stop – That thing is running like an infected dick!

Aroma – If there is a special aroma whether it be a skunk, something dead or a fart that only you have noticed and there is the absolute necessity to share it with your group, ‘Hey! Do you smell barbecue, or coffee?” Guess who will all take truly deep breaths?

Wrong cart – Hey I think you were in the white cart with the black trim!



At least 50 get well cards or E-mails all saying you are in our thoughts and prayers. They all came from the members of,she who is all knowing, ladies golf club. Now I’m thinking it was more of a statement to the missus that they were really hoping her husband gets better because they all know what a pain in the ass the old man can be when all he does is mope around the house, feeling sorry for himself, and needing all this unnecessary sympathy and attention.

Anyway the urologist recommended BCG bladder cancer treatment consisting of six infusions of one per week. Thankfully the treatment doesn’t interfere with my regular weekly golf games. Well to make a long story even longer you need to know I have been a 20 handicapper for the past decade. What, you ask, does golf have to do with cancer treatment? Well, I’ll tell you! Nothing! But remarkably over the next six weeks of treatmentmy index began to plummet from 20 to 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, and finally 14.3.

Applying band aids is about as extensive as my medical background gets. So with all this knowledge, I surmised that the BCG must have some really good stuff in it. That had to be it, I was being juiced, and we’re not talking prune juice either. Of course a little vodka and prune juice commonly referred to as a pile driver never hurts. But I digress! Somehow there had to be some kind of steroids or some other kind of performance enhancing drugs they didn’t know of or care to share. It doesn’t get any better than this. Getting the cancer treated and the golf game entering a level never before experienced.

Of course there is an explanation! The biopsy came back with a capital P for positive. So the next step is further infusions with BCG and Interferon. Well, my interpretation was that the guy in charge of receiving all those prayers and dispensing these oblations or whatever it is they dispense up there wasn’t fully aware of the purpose of the prayers. All he’s got to work with is my name. So he arbitrarily applies all these special intentions to good old John. That absolutely explains the handicap index thing.

So what to do? Well the next week I explained the above mentioned situation to the ladies, who were all gathered after their tournament partaking of their customary libations. “Thank you all so much for the prayers girls, but your communications with the higher authority for the intention of bettering my issue has been somewhat misdirected. If you would all be good enough to go through the prayer scenario once again, being a little more explicit, could you please petition that the purpose of your prayers be directed to the cure of John’sgazillerator!” This caused a great deal of laugher, but apparently they took my request to heart. BECAUSE!

Guess what? My handicap has returned to normal. It just passed up through the 19.2 mark and the treatments have given me a pardon as there was no sign in the latest biopsy. Consequently there has been a renaissance in my approach to prayer, the skepticism that existed in the past is no longer an issue. Maybe it needed to be presented to me in a way I’d understand. Golfing implications!

SO! Three golfers plunk down $100 each for their green fees and head out to their golf carts. The starter realizes he has overcharged the threesome and sends the cart boy out to return the money. He tells the cart boy to explain they were due a group special and gives him five $10 dollar bills to return to the players. Anyway on the way out to return the money the cart boy decides he’ll just keep $20 and give each player $10 guessing they will never know the difference and appreciate the money they do get back. Well the players are quite thankful and grateful for a round at only $90 each. So if each player spent only $90 each which equates to $270 and the cart boy kept $20 which totals $290 what happened to the other $10?

A Catholic priest and a nun were taking a rare afternoon off and enjoying a round of golf. The priest stepped up to the first tee and took a mighty swing. He missed the ball entirely and said “Shit I missed!” The good sister told him to watch his language. On his next swing he missed again. “Shit, I missed!” “Father, I’m not going to play with you if you keep swearing.” The nun said tartly. The priest promised to do better and the round continued. On the 4th tee he missed again. The usual comment followed. Sister is really mad now and says “Father John, God is going to strike you dead if you keep swearing like that.” On the next tee Father John swings and misses again. “Shit, I missed.” A terrific rumble is heard and a gigantic bolt of lightning comes out of the sky striking Sister Mary in here tracks. And from the sky comes a booming voice, “Shit, I missed.”

SO! This golfer has this dream where he is standing in front of the pearly gates andSt. Peter is explaining to him how wonderful things are here in heaven for gofers. He expounds upon the never ending selection of golf courses, every one being more beautiful than the last, everything is free, no green fees or cart fees, refreshments, food and beverages. The good news is you can play as many rounds as you want, but the bad news is you have a starting time for Tuesday.

The Pope met with his Cardinals to discuss a proposal from Benjamin Netanyahu, the leader of Israel. “Your Holiness”, said one of his Cardinals, Mr. Netanyahu wants to challenge you to a game of golf to show his friendship and ecumenical spirit shared by the Jewish and Catholic faiths.” The Pope thought this was a good idea, but he had never held a golf club in his hand. “Don’t we have a Cardinal who can represent me?” “None that plays very well,” he added, “but there is a man named Jack Nicklaus, an American golfer who is a devout Catholic. We could offer to make him a Cardinal, than ask him to play Mr. Netanyahu as your personal representative. In addition to showing our spirit of cooperation we will also win the match.” Everyone agreed it was an excellent idea. The call was made. Of course Mr. Nicklaus was honored and agreed to play. The day after the match Mr. Nicklaus reported to the Vatican to inform the Pope of the results. “I have some good news and some bad news your holiness”. “Tell me the good news first Cardinal Nicklaus.” “Well your Holiness, I don’t like to brag, but even though I’ve played some terrific rounds of golf in my life, this was the best I’ve ever played, by far. I must have been inspired from above. My drives were long and true my irons were accurate and purposeful, and my putting was perfect. With all due respect, my play was truly miraculous.” “There’s bad news?” the Pole asked. “Yes,” Nicklaus sighed, “I lost to Rabbi Tiger Woods by three strokes.”

Recently a routine police patrol car was parked outside a local golf course clubhouse. Late in the evening the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes with the officer quietly observing. After what seemed like an eternity and trying his key on five different vehicles the man managed to find his own car. With great difficulty, from a kneeling position he was able to insert the key, unlock the door and fall on his butt from the effort and eventually climb into the front seat. He was there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the club and drove off. Finally he started the car, switching the windshield wipers on and off several times (it was a dry night), flicked the hazard lights on and off, tooted the horn and then switched on his head lights. He moved the car forward a few inches, reversed a little and then remained stationary for a few more minutes as more patrons left in their vehicles. At last he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive slowly down the street. The police officer, having patiently waited all this time now started up his patrol car, put on his flashing lights, promptly pulled he man over and carried out a Breathalyzer test. To his amazement the Breathalyzer indicated no evidence of the man having consumed alcohol at all. Dumfounded, the officer said, I’ll have to ask you to accompany me to the police station, this Breathalyzer equipment must be defective.” “I doubt it” said the man, “tonight I’m the designated decoy.”

SO! There’s these three guys sitting at the bar enjoying a beer after finishing their round of golf. It just so happens the local girls’ high school golf team is practicing on the putting green right outside the 19thhole window. One of the young ladies is drop dead gorgeous and there is no way the three buddies cannot comment on her beauty. The first guy comments, “That girl is a perfect 10.” The second player admits that, “Never in my life have I seen an absolute 7”. The third gentleman with, something of a Brooklyn accent adds his impression “Dat is a poifect tree (3).” Well the three look at each other in utter amazement, wondering how they could possibly be so far apart in their seemingly unquestioned evaluation of the young ladies beauty. So the first guy asks his buddies how they arrived at these grossly disparate numbers and suggesting that he uses the two point must system. There being 5 distinct parts of the girls anatomy and each part must absolutely be 2 points. The head and face count for 2, the arms, neck and shoulders are 2, the breasts are 2, the ass and waist are 2 and the legs are 2. There cannot be the slightest imperfection, no fat ankles, stringy hair, nothing and there you have it a perfect 10. So the second guy says okay I get it, but my system is a little more precise. In my system women have 7 critical points to evaluate so the grading is a little more exacting. Face, hair, neck, breasts, ass, hips and legs, each one has to be playboy perfect. Now the first two are anxious to see how their buddy can possibly explain a 3. Well he says I use the Budweiser System! So they ask what’s the Budweiser System? Well, that’s how many Clydesdales it would take to pull her off my face!

I came home from golf today. The wife had left a note on the refrigerator. “IT’S NOT WORKING! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! GONE TO STAY WITH MY MOTHER!” I opened the fridge, the light came on, the beer was cold, what the hell is she talking about?

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