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My wife told me it was about time that I learned to play golf . . . you know, golf . . . that’s the game where you chase a little ball all over the country when you are too old to chase women.

So, I went to see Mr. Jones and asked him if he would teach me how to play.

He said, “Sure, you’ve got balls don’t you?”

“Yes, but sometimes on cold mornings they are hard to find.”

“Bring them to the clubhouse tomorrow morning and we will tee off.”

“What’s tee off?”

“It’s a golf term and we have to tee off in front of the clubhouse.”

“Not for me,” I said. “You can tee off in front of the clubhouse if you want, but I’ll tee off behind the barn somewhere.”

“No, no, a tee is a little thing about the size of your finger.”

“Yeah, I’ve got one of those.”

“Well, you stick it in the ground and put your ball on top of it.”

“You play golf sitting down? I always thought you stood up and walked around.”

“You do, you’re standing up when you put your ball on the tee.”

Well folks, I thought that was stretching things a bit too far and I said so.

He said, “You’ve got a bag haven’t you?”

“Sure.”

“You’re balls are in it, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” I told him.

“Well, can’t you open your bag and take one out?”

“I suppose I could, but I’ll be damned if I am going to.”

“Don’t you have a zipper on your bag?”

“No, I am the old fashioned type.”

“Do you know how to hold your club?”

Well, after 65 years, I should have some sort of an idea and I told him so.

He said, “You take your club in both hands . . . ”

Well folks, I knew right then that he didn’t know what he was talking about.

Then he said, “Swing it over your shoulder . . .”

No, no, that’s not me at all. That’s my brother he’s talking about.

He asked, “How do your hold your club?”

And before I thought about it, I said, “With two fingers.”

He said that wasn’t right, got behind me, put two arms around me, and said for me to bend over and he would show me. Well, he couldn’t catch me there for nothing. I didn’t spend four years in the Navy for nothing.

He said, “You hit the ball with your club and it soars and soars. . .”

I could well imagine that.

“. . . and when you’re on the green . . .”

“What’s the green?”

“That’s where the hole is.”

“Sure you’re not color blind?”

“Then you take your putter in your hands. . .”

“What’s a putter?”

“That’s the smallest club made.”

“That’s what I got, a putter.”

“And with it, you put your ball into the hole.”

I corrected him, “You mean the putter.”

“No, the ball. The hole isn’t big enough for the ball and putter too.”

Well, I’ve seen holes big enough for a horse and wagon.

“Then,” he said, “after you finish with the first hole, you go on to the next 17.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t talking about me. After two holes I’m shot to hell.

“You mean you can’t make 18 holes in one day?”

“Hell no! It takes me 18 days to make one hole! Besides, how do I know when I am in the 18th hole?”

“The flag will go up!”

Well, golfing is not for me.

A couple met at Hilton Head and fell in love. They were discussing how they would continue the relationship after their vacations were over. “It’s only fair to warn you, Jody,” Bill said, “I’m a golf nut. I live, eat, sleep and breathe golf.”

“Well, since you’re being honest, so will I.” Jody said. “I’m a hooker.”

“I see.” he said. Then, brightening, he smiled. “It’s probably because you’re not keeping your wrists straight when you hit the ball.”

Two friends had arranged a round of golf and were now on the first tee, preparing to start their game at 7 a.m. Just as the first was half way up his backswing, a good looking young lady ran across the course about 10 yards in front of him, peeling off her clothes as she went until she was totally naked. As she disappeared into the woods he turned, dazed, to his companion, “What was that about?!!!”

“Take no notice. Just get on with the game,” replied the other.

Settling down and lining up for his drive, the first golfer then noticed four men in white coats running across the course on a similar track to the young lady. “What……?!?”

“Look. Just get on with the game,” said the second. “We don’t have all day, and you know the course closes at 9 p.m.,” the second says with a chuckle.

For the third time the golfer squared up to the ball, only to be distracted by another man in a white coat running across the fairway, lugging two buckets of sand. “Now, hold on a minute,” said the first golfer, “I’m not playing until you tell me what’s going on.”

“OK,” said the second. “Just over the wall there is an asylum. The young lady is a patient who escapes and runs around naked from time to time. The guys in white coats are chasing her.”

“I’ll buy that,” said the first, “but what’s with the guy and the two buckets of sand?”

“He’s the guy who caught her the last time. That’s his handicap.”

This guy is stranded on a desert island, all alone for ten years. One day, he sees a speck in the horizon. He thinks to himself, “It’s not a ship.”

The speck gets a little closer and he thinks, “It’s not a boat.”

The speck gets even closer and he thinks, “It’s not a raft.”

Then, out of the surf comes this gorgeous woman, wearing a wet suit and scuba gear. She comes up to the guy and says, “How long has it been since you’ve had a cigarette?”

“Ten years!” he says. She reaches over and unzips a waterproof pocket on her left sleeve and pulls out a pack of fresh cigarettes. He takes one, lights it, takes a long drag, and says, “Man, oh man! Is that good!”

Then she asked, “How long has it been since you’ve had a drink of whiskey?” He replies, “Ten years!” She reaches over, unzips her waterproof pocket on her right sleeve, pulls out a flask and gives it to him. He takes a long swig and says, “Wow, that’s fantastic!”

Then she starts unzipping this long zipper that runs down the front of her wet suit and she says to him, “And how long has it been since you’ve had some REAL fun?”

And the man replies, “My God! Don’t tell me that you’ve got golf clubs in there!”

Once the club duffer challenged the local golf pro to a match, with a
$100 bet on the side. “But,” said the duffer, “since you’re obviously
much better than I, to even it a bit you have to spot me two’gotchas’.”
The golf pro didn’t know what a ‘gotcha’ was, but he went along with it.
And off they went. Coming back to the 19th hole, the rest of the club members
were amazed to see the golf pro paying the duffer $100.
“What happened?” asked one of the members. “Well,” said the pro, “I was teeing
up for the first hole, and as I brought the club down, the jerk stuck his hand
between my legs and grabbed my balls while yelling ‘Gotcha!’ Have you ever
tried to play 18 holes of golf waiting for the second ‘gotcha’?”



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