Officially golf season is upon us. Yeah, I know that the PGA Tour schedule started last month. Big fucking deal. Memo to PGA: When football is on, nobody gives a shit about golf. Go ahead and CC that to hockey and basketball while you’re at it. Come to think of it, nobody really gives a shit about either one of them regardless. Except during March Madness. Because gambling is good.

But I digress.

Typically, the first golf tourney after football is the AT&T Pebble Beach. As referenced here earlier, also known back in the day as the Crosby Clambake. I must also echo the sentiment that the word “celebrity” is being stretched to the limits of the definition.

Forget Dean Martin and Bing Crosby. I’d be happy if actual living celebrities showed up for this tournament. Face it, the only time this tourney lives up to the hype is when Bill Murray shows up. Clint Eastwood owns the joint and is too busy writing checks and putting up with the general ass pain of being the host. So he doesn’t get to play anymore. Get Sam Jackson or Vince Fucking Gill at least. Instead of generic no-name country star and actor who has been dead to me since this godawful career choice. And when, exactly, did Chris Berman become a celebrity? He’s a sports anchor. That rates somewhere between advertising sales executive and child molester on the Douchebag Scale. Besides, he’s a fucking crybaby. I’m sorry that’s not true. A FAT fucking crybaby. David Feherty is a bigger celeb and he’s actually COVERING the tournament.

The local and national media quickly run out of angles to cover at Pebble. Other than gratuitous shots of whales in Monterey Bay and important investigations into Who Dressed Costner Like A Dickhead, there isn’t a lot going on.

The San Jose paper brings up a good point, “Where are the chicks?”

The article specifically mentions Jessica Alba as a chick whose good with sticks. I’m sure they mean this Jessica Alba.

Less clothes!

This would really give the Clambake some sex appeal which it desperately needs. Especially if there’s a swimsuit competition.

That’s much better.


I’ve never been on to talk about the “good old days.” It wasn’t better back then, walking up hill in the snow and all that. God knows I wish I had titanium drivers and perimeter weighted irons and one-piece balls and views of Kristy McNichol’s shaved snatch at the touch of a button back when I was growing up. But, back in my day, the hottest celebrities at the time didn’t shave their snatches and flash them for the cameras. But I digress.

We did, however, have the Clambake. The Bing Crosby Pebble Beach Pro-Am. We watched Dean Martin and Bob Hope and Jack Lemmon and Joey Bishop and Sammy Davis, Jr. play golf and hit people in the gallery and try to shake off hangovers and it was cool, oh, yeah it was cool. OK, most of the celebs were at their zenith during my parents time (at least), but still they were cool. Damn cool. And the tournament was won by people like Nicklaus and Miller and Watson.

What do we have now. Kenny G., (irrelevant smooth-jazz sax blower) Clay Walker, (irrelevant hasn’t-had-a-hit-in-20-years Country singer). Chris “Big Loud Fat Ass” Berman. Michael Bolton. Joe Kernan. Chris O’Donnell.

And then, there’s Danny Gans. The poster boy for irrelevance. As far as I can tell, he is famous for finding any live camera he can find and doing a markedly unfunny impression of Mike Meyers doing, Dr. Evil.

Danny fucking Gans. What the fuck? He still does George Burns, for God’s sake. A man who was born in the 1800s. Bing is rolling over in his grave.


God, I gotta cleanse my palette. Here’s Erin Andrews eating a sandwich.


Hey Knight! You’re a fucking QUITTER!

Fuck you Pitino! You’re the fucking quitter! I won over 900 games. You left your team in the middle of the season because you SUCK!

It’s Petrino, asshole! And you’re the one who SUCKS! You left in the middle of the season, telling everybody you’re TIIIIIRED! WAAAHHHHHHH!! Does your pussy hurt too, QUITTER?!?!?!

You quit because you’re a LOSER, Paulino! A LOOOOOOOSER! WAAAAAAHHHH! “My quarterback’s in prison!! Somebody please save me! Anybody!! Even you inbred cousin-fucking hillbillies in ARKANSAS!!!”

WAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! “I want my little boy to coach!! I can’t make it through ten more games, I’m too tired!!!!!!” Now you’re saying that you might coach again, QUITTER! WAAAAHHHHHHH!

Hey Fellas! Speaking of inbred cousin-fuckers . . . I’m setting up a, uh . . . a scholarship fund for this, uh . . . special needs fella back at West Virginia. He’s, uh . . . blind, deef and he has no lymp system, or lumbar or sumpin’ like that. Could you guys could pitch in and help him out? He only need about four mil. Uh, make the check out to me . . .



Hey, hey hey, cool it down, fellas. Where’s your honor? Where’s your loyalty. Where’s your decency?

Suck my dick, Sabol.

Fourth down and thirteen
You always kick the field goal
Nice call, Belichoke

Tiger Woods, who overcame a four-shot deficit in Dubai and won with a birdie, birdie finish, took his winnings and his nine billion dollar appearance fee to the Dubai Airport and bought the world’s only super-sonic hovercraft. He is currently racing to the Phoenix area, where he will play all 72 holes of the FBR Open this afternoon, finishing ace, birdie, eagle, and winning the tournament by 17 strokes.

“I can’t let J.B. Holmes, or, God forbid, Mickelson win this storied tournament,” says Woods. “Plus, I owe it to the fans to make four holes-in-one on the sixteenth, as there haven’t been any since I started playing in Dubai.”

Woods has confirmed that he will be taking over as Giants quarterback at halftime of the Superbowl, allowing Eli Manning to spoon on the sidelines with Kenny Chesney. He may also spend some time shutting down Randy Moss on defense. Time constraints prevent Woods from arriving early enough to win the coin toss by seven and start in place of Manning.

In The Zona

What a great time to be in Arizona. Of course, there is a professional tackle football game being played there tomorrow. And all weekend is the golf tournament they play there, whatever the fuck they call it these days.

This tournament is a Super Bowl weekend tradition, with the rowdiest hole in golf, the par-3 16th. It’s the only hole in professional tournament golf where you will get booed for a bad shot.

And, from what I understand, Arizona is always crawling with folks like this:

Note that these young ladies are both flashing the hand signal commonly known as “the Shocker.” This hand signal is a request for someone, presumably me, to perform simultaneous vaginal and anal digital intercourse upon them.

Oh, yeah. I want to go to Arizona.


“Pardon me, cherished co-workers, could I ask that you remain motionless during the time that I am attempting to read my teleprompter whilst the camera is on. Thank you very much indeed.