GOLF WITH MY FRIENDS, or I HATE PEOPLE.
So I hate people. Really. I hate my neighbors. Idiots; with their sump-pump drainage into my basement and their cute fucking families. I hate the people on the block. Idiots squared. Have you seen those cars? WTF? I hate the people I work with. Well, at least I only loathe some of them. But I would never choose to know them in any real capacity outside work. Drinks? Yeah, I have drinks every night as soon as I get home to forget you idiots and your stupid power plays and bullshit high school soap opera fuckshit. Oh, you mean go out for drinks with everyone. Fuck no, I don’t drink. (With assholes.)
So I hate people. I mean I love my family. Love my wife. Looove my wife. And I love my kids. Great daughters, perfect little princesses. But the rest of you people….? I would rather we didn’t socialize, if you don’t mind at all. I have friends, another group of idiots. I am reminded of the line from Porky’s, “yeah, he’s an asshole, but he’s our friend.” You cannot believe the bullshit a bunch of guys can get into. All because they’re stupid. Fucking. Idiots. Take golf for instance. Number one rule of golf…when playing, you should be QUIET. You people know this right? This isn’t a secret, is it? QUIET as a mouse. A little fuckin’ mouse. Tiny, barely even there. Cute as a button but ever so small. A still, little brown mouse. So cute. And QUIET. Fuckin’ quiet. Whisper-is-way-too-fuckin’-loud kind of quiet. So here I am out with the buddies, the guys, the crew. Hangin’ wit’ da’crew. And in the middle of my swing, clangitty clang clang. I hit my normal perfect golf shot, and then add the clangitty clang clang to it for a fuckshit ball-hard-right-and-into-the-water and turn in amazement at my playing partners. Fucking cocksuckers. Because that’s what they are to me know, a bunch of cocksuckers. But I couldn’t let them know I knew that, that they were a bunch of motherfuckin’ cocksuckers to me now. So I said, not too loud, “does it matter that I am swinging a club over here. Does it matter to anyone at all that I am swinging here.” Silence. After my best friend and golf cart partners also puts one in the shit, we commence our ride together. Pleasantries are exchanged, during which I am told that, hey since all 3 guys made noise at the same time, perhaps I should not have been hitting at that time. Perhaps it was a bad time for me to choose to try and strike my golf ball. Like I said, a bunch of fucking idiots. I am sorry, I replied; are you suggesting it was my fault for not checking mid swing with you people behind me to make sure it was all clear. The fact that someone else had already hit first, that I was hitting 2nd, and that I was clearly addressing my ball is not enough. That I must now somehow infer everyone’s immediate intentions, what they are going to do in the coming seconds to determine if it is safe for me to hit. So of course I told him I knew he had been playing golf long enough to know better. That the number one rule is, the people playing golf expect you to be….? QUIET. His subsequent request that I not lecture him did not enjoiner a response, and we moved on to the last hole.
We did not play the last hole very well.
Fucking idiots. Idiot fucking cocksuckers.
Oh well. Perhaps next week we will do better.
...So yeah. That is what is in my head sometimes. If I get even one positive comment I have a few more of these, although I would prefer to generate some new ones as well. Lewis Black needs some competition.