He shows "signs of slipping"?
No one ever accused Slo-Joe of being bright.
Instead of intelligence and acuity, lying and corruption have been his hallmarks.
Due to the ravages of dementia, what's left of his paltry IQ now fits comfortably in a thimble.
 |
| <the thing> |
This is intuitively obvious to even the most casual observer; has been for years.
Be sure to renew your subscription to the WSJ and other equally irrelevant rags for the absolute latest in yesterday's news.
Next Week:
Scientists discover the sun is hot!
And in a shocking corollary...
Don't miss it while you can.
Been reading "The Tumult And The Shouting"...
...a book by the great sports reporter Grantland Rice, published in 1954 (note the handwritten dedication on the flyleaf; bought this copy from a used book store).
The title was taken, fittingly as it turns out, from a phrase in the Rudyard Kipling poem <Recessional>, written in 1897 when G.R. was just 17 years old.
Rice was known as "The Dean Of American Sportswriters", and he led the charge during sports' "Golden Era".
Trained in the classics, possessed of a writer's wit and the soul of a romantic, he lionized in prose and poetry the sports legends of his time: Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, Jack Dempsey, Jim Thorpe, Red Grange, Bobby Jones and others.
If you're one of today's pathetiques infected with the woke virus who flees to your "safe space" whenever you encounter an idea outside your miniscule ideological bubble, please do not read this book.
There are colloquialisms, actions and descriptions from real life...
...that will flatten you faster than a Dempsey left hook.
If, however, you're a normal human being with a healthy interest in an up close and personal viewpoint of sports’ all time greats from years gone by, give this book a read.
As alluded to earlier, Rice's choice of title proved clairvoyant: he died unexpectedly just a few months after his book's publication in 1954.
This was indeed his recessional, the end of the tumult and shouting.
It serves as a summation of and testament to a full, rich life from a dynamic era, populated with amazing people.
Enjoy.
That's where my 4th shot landed - a mid iron from 140 yards out - on the par 5 #8.
What started as a typical "double bogey if I'm lucky" hole, ended up as a par.
Why?
Because I decided to channel a little bit of Walter Hagen's attitude that the next shot is the only one that counts, and you know what?
It helped.
2 pars, 3 bogeys and 4 foozles; not my best round, but I had more good holes than bad. (Yes, in my world a bogey counts as a good hole.)
If I'd been playing with my usual mindset - i.e., bad shot = bad hole - it would have been one of those "why do I bother?" rounds.
So that was Thursday; what about Friday?
Hm...looks like we're experiencing technical difficulties.
Suffice to say attitude is something but it’s not everything.
Moving on...
I don't know about you, but I've had just about enough of this foolishness.
I say we beat feet and 23 skidoo:
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| grandsons fishing at sunset in Florida |
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| my almost complete gutty playset - long and short spoons, lofter, putter. after Friday’s dismal effort, attempt #2 coming up later this week. |
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| sunset at the lake |
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| Larry's dad at the wheel |
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| cold morning in early June |
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| "though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished..." - Proverbs 11:21 |
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| same rabbit, still running |
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| 1st daises of the summer |
That's it folks, the end of the line.
Ah, quit complaining...looks like a nice day and a walk in the sunshine will do you good.
Besides, it doesn't look any worse than some of the sand traps I've been in.
Some encouragement for you as you face the trials of another week:
Hang in, mcm fans...
* Crass Commercialism Corner *
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