This post is about Donald J. Trump. But, if I can help it, it will not be about any of the national disgraces we have seen over the course of the last two weeks, which include:
* The Bowling Green Massacre
* Frederick Douglass
* Hanging up on the prime minister of Australia
* The botched Yemen raid
* The phantom 3-5 million illegal voters
* The promise to send US troops into Mexico, as well as Chicago, to get Bad Hombres
* Deregulating Wall Street, you know those fuckers who caused the collapse of 2008
* Removing sanctions on Russia our new BFFs
* Disgracing the memories of 117 fallen CIA operatives
* Sean Spicer's suits
...just to name a few.
This is about the Trump National Golf Course in California. Years ago, while toiling at Chiat/Day, our client Energizer (remember the Bunny?) wanted to play golf. My boss thought it'd be a good idea to take him and his assistant down to Palos Verdes.
I was not about to pay $350 for a tee time on a course that is nothing more than a miniature golf playland on steroids. It had fake waterfalls. Moats. And swirling greens that I believe mirrored the pattern on Precedent Shitgibbon's head.
Not to mention narrow fairways that also accurately reflected Dear Leader's narrow mind.
I hit and lost more than a dozen balls into the Out of Bounds that were, not surprisingly, infested with rattlesnakes. Or so the sign said, perhaps just to force the purchase of more balls at the turn.
Before the 10th hole I had to run inside to the pro shop and get myself a few more sleeves of balls. All outrageously priced. None of which were reimbursed.
There's an old saying that, "even a bad day on the golf course is better than a great day at the office." I'm not sure that applies to Trump's National Course.
If I use the current administration's fuzzy math, I shot an appalling 74, which is far worse than my average 67.
Sad.
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