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Fashions for the Redneck Golfer
By Carson Cockman

As you well know, golf is a superb sport in which nattily attired ladies and gentlemen endeavor reach sub-par nirvana by playing in such a way as to never have to use spot remover on their wingtips.

Maybe in YOUR neck of the woods!

Diamond Jim-Bob Brady

Around here, we have golfers with the fashion sense of a road-killed possum.

As prima fascia evidence, allow me to introduce you to some of the locals:

There is Charlie “Bubba” Festabule. He has a tattoo of Arnold Palmer on one butt cheek and one of Willie Nelson on the other. He uses a wheelbarrow, that has a Chevrolet hood ornament, as a golf cart. You da’st not even mention a Ford.

CHarlie Bubba in a Thoughtful mood

His usual partner is Jubal Spunket. Jubal is a local hunter and part-time golfer who holds the county record for the largest Yankee ever stuffed and mounted as well as the course record for the most cuss words uttered during one round.

Jubal either gets a hole-in-one or a Yankee!

Bubba wears a pair of shorts that must have been purchased from army-navy surplus…CIVIL war surplus. They fit him like a pair of Speedos fit a humpback whale. Let me be kind and say that he shows enough cleavage to rival the bunker on number 14.

His tee shirt has no sleeves. It almost has no body, either. There are enough holes that it more resembles a Klansman’s sheet at a Black Panther’s rally.

Jubal wears camo. I guess he figures that if the golf ball can’t see him, he can sneak up on it and whap it longer. He is the only person I know with spikes on his combat boots. He uses used mine triggers for golf tees. He figures it is a psychological advantage. He judges the effectiveness of the technique by the amount of “wince” his opponent has when Jubal drives at each hole.

They are by no means the only examples I can give.
Most of the guys I play with dress in what I would call Salvation Army chic.

Tres Chic

They way they look, one would almost expect them to be pushing a shopping cart around on number 18 muttering to themselves about how Big Bertha failed to help them reach par and that it must be a government conspiracy.

Yes. The good ole boys I play with make a fashion statement. It is one that fairly screams: “Somebody take pity on me and take me to Wal-mart to buy some new overalls.”

J-Lo's Southern Cuzzin

It is time to help our comrades. Can’t you just feel their pain? What we are asking here is not really charity. It is more like this:

You send money to the clubhouse to pay off the accumulated bar tab and we’ll promise to spend more of our disposable income on the proper golf attire. Really we will.

As we speak, Bubba is ordering new Fruit of the Looms size triple H, extra scosh in the rump, drawers from the Sear and Roebuck catalogue and Jubal is ordering sniper camo that looks like a pine tree.

Operators are standing by.

© Copyright 2007 by Carson Cockman

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