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One fine day, Jim and Bob are out golfing. Jim slices his ball deep into a wooded ravine. He grabs his 8-iron and proceeds down the embankment into the ravine in search of his ball.

The brush is quite thick, but Jim searches diligently and suddenly he spots something shiny. As he gets closer, he realizes that the shiny object is in fact an 8-iron in the hands of a skeleton lying near an old golf ball.

Jim calls out to his golfing partner in an agitated voice, “Hey Bob, come here, I got trouble down here.”

Bob comes running over to the edge of the ravine and calls out, “What’s the matter Jim?”

Jim shouts back, “Throw me my 7-iron! You can’t get out of here with an 8-iron.”

The Pope met with the College of Cardinals to discuss a proposal from Shimon Peres, the former leader of Israel. “Your holiness,” said one of the Cardinals, “Mr. Peres wants to determine whether Jews or Catholics are superior, by challenging you to a golf match.” The Pope was greatly disturbed, as he had never held a golf club in his life.

“Not to worry,” said the Cardinal, “we’ll call America and talk to Jack Nicklaus. We’ll make him a Cardinal, he can play Shimon Peres… We can’t lose!” Everyone agreed it was a good idea. The call was made and, of course, Jack was honored and agreed to play.

The day after the match, Nicklaus reported to the Vatican to inform the Pope of his success in the match. “I came in second, your Holiness,” said Nicklaus.

“Second?!!” exclaimed the surprised Pope. “You came in second to Shimon Peres?!!”

“No,” said Nicklaus, “second to Rabbi Woods.”

Bob stood over his tee short on the 18th hole for what seemed like
forever. He’d waggle, look down, look up, but never start his backswing.
Finally David, his playing partner, asked, “Why on Earth are you taking
so long to make this shot?”

“My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse, and I want to make
this shot a good one,” said Bob.

“Good Lord,” said David, “you haven’t got a chance of hitting her from
here.”

The night before their wedding, Alf and Bette were sharing confidences.
Alf said, “You must know something before we get married. I am a fanatic golfer. I eat, sleep and drink golf. Golf is my whole life. After we are married, I’ll try for some balance but I doubt whether I’ll succeed. Just understand – you’re marrying a golf addict.”
“I can live with that,” said Bette, “now I’ll tell you my secret – I’m a hooker.”
“A hooker?” Alf repeated. “I can live with that. Next time, keep your head down and your left arm straight, then swing through the ball… .”

A man was playing a game of golf, and on hole 16, he hit the ball right
into a field of buttercups. As honest a golfer as he normally was, he
picked up the ball and laid it next to the flowerbed to avoid destroying
the beautiful buttercups. A fairy comes down and says “thank you for not
disturbing my buttercups. For that I shall make sure that you always have
a full supply of butter”.

“Thank you,” the golfer replied, “but where were you last week when I hit
the ball into the pussywillows?”



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