The famous golfers have departed, for now...

Left: Thornblade golf course, suburban Greenville SC. (this view is only about a quarter-mile from where I live)

~*~




Golfer: Listen, what am I paying my fucking dues for? This is my golf course! If I wanna play here, I will play here. If he gets hit with my titleist, that's his fucking problem. Fore! Fore! [Hits ball]

Michael Douglas: [the ball barely misses his head; whips out shotgun] Five!

What the hell are you trying to do? Kill me with a golf ball? It's not enough you have all these beautiful acres fenced in for your little game, but you gotta kill me with a golf ball? You should have children playing here, you should have families having picnics, you should have a goddamn petting zoo! But instead you've got these stupid electric carts for you old men with nothing better to do! [Fires his shotgun at a golf cart, causing it to roll down the hill]

Michael Douglas: Now aren't you ashamed of yourself?

--from the movie FALLING DOWN (1993)

~*~

I live, quite literally, about 15-20 feet from a golf course. The horrors never end.

I can usually carry on a delightful delusion that I live next to a beautifully-landscaped park, where families are having picnics and there is a goddamn petting zoo (see quote above), but alas, it's not and there isn't. This past weekend, the point was brought forcefully home, since the BMW Charity Pro-Am Golf Tournament was going on, quite literally, right outside my bedroom window.

And so, I had drunk people in golf carts whizzing by all weekend, manically searching for celebs like Joe Pesci, Kurt Russell, Luke Wilson, Dennis Quaid, Cheech Marin and Wayne Gretzky. No parking for miles, the scent of hundreds of gallons of spilled beer, and large Hollywood-sized trailers everywhere, with various snazzy and colorful brand names emblazoned thereon. Also, lots of sports networks broadcasting on every corner, with those mobile TV-eyes poking up in the air--We're on the air, live!

One barely resists the urge to shove the talking head out of the way and STRIP, yelling: HEY YALL, WELCOME TO GREENVILLE! [moons camera]

Maybe when I was younger.

~*~

Speaking of which--my last post, written in a fit of pique, has been linked on the UK feminist blog titled The F-Word (not to be confused with Sara Anderson's F-Words, from Idaho). THANK YOU, DEAR SISTERS!

I finally enabled backlinks on my blog, but as you can see, it only picks up maybe half of all trackbacks, which is disturbing. (On my end, I have finally started leaving my own html-made trackbacks.) Harumph--Blogger needs to get with the program! Now that I have a clue, might have gone with Wordpress instead and I understand now why so many people switch over.

Hope your Wednesday is good. I tried to make that purty golf-course photo a "Wordless Wednesday" post, but as you've all undoubtedly figured out by now, wordlessness does not come easy to me.

~*~



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Listening to: Grateful Dead - King Solomon's Marbles
via FoxyTunes