The Word of Golf

The Word of Golf has been decried as irreverent and blasphemous by foppish priests resenting golfers playing on the Holy Links each Sunday. As a Diaspora Scot and Irish Celt, I have a nostalgia for Celtic things. So, I left organized religion and gravitated to the Holy Quest of Golf which arose from the pastures and sheep bunkers of my ancestors' ancient homelands of Scotland and Ireland Verily, you should surely understand that I am a bit zany. I learned as a twelve-year old caddy that if one does not have a genuine sense of humor, one should not seek enlightenment on the Holy Courses of the Holy Quest. If you do not have a Celtic zany bent, and you do not get a thrill from a whipped stick striking a small white pill and causing it to hiss through the air over the freshly-cut Bermuda grass of a 6,000 yard lond sheep pasture -- well, there are always Bikini Suicide Frisbee matches somewhere nearby. The Word of Golf should be in every golfer's bag along with his/her six pack of Guinness Stout.