Friday puts me in the mind of golf and beer and BBQ and beach.
I was flipping through some pictures of our last annual family reunion (wife’s side), where we have a mini golf tourney. The picture is embarrassing for me but funny for you all.
It’s me in mid-swing. Note that this is the latter part of my swing—i.e., I’ve already swung. Note the ball. It’s still there. Dang thing is supposed to be flyin’ through the air at a thousand miles an hour.
Damn liberal balls.
Now here’s my wife in fine form. Note that the astute photographer snapped the photo at an early stage of her swing. Clearly a biased photographer. Probably a feminist. But yes, I admit, contact between the club face and the ball did ensue. The ball rose to stupid heights, traveling a great distance in the correct trajectory.
Conservative ball.
See how that works?
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