So, What’s with the Lawn Deal for Crying Out Loud?!

OK, the more I think about the lawn thing, more teed off I get. First of all I don’t even like lawns.  I think they are stupid.  They are just living wall-to-wall (tree to tree?) carpets , (and don’t get me started on those insipid travesties; basically flea nurseries, and once a cat pees on one, you might as well move out of the house).

Anyway, about all a lawn is good for is playing golf, and I don’t play golf.  I am not one for sports in any case, and what kind of sport is it anyway that you play at no more than a slow walk.   Then, if you are too lazy for that you can ride about in a cart and even have some poor schmuck hand you the clubs, cuz it really is so much work to walk over to the bag and take out your own dam club.  It also turns out that the better a player you are, the less you get to hit the ball, which is the “fun” part anyway.

Now I don’t buy for a moment that my ancestors the Scots invented this game.  Does this sound like the sort of wimpy game that would be invented by pretty much the only people that successfully defied the Roman empire;  a people that were so obnoxious that the emperor Hadrian had to put up a 70 mile long wall complete with fortifications and soldiers just to keep them at bay?

Hell no, we would have invented something more like football, but a version that involved more risk of death or mutilation.   It was probably one of those effete English nobles that came up to his summer castle in Scotland, ran out of grouse to shoot, got bored and started whacking away at rocks with a stick.  One of the rocks fell down a hole and he got all excited.  Or heck, maybe they were just playing that pansy game croquet and oops… the dang ball went down a hedgehog burrow.  Naturally some scoundrel claimed that he “meant to do that”;  said that it was a new version of the game just imported from France or Ubanistan or some such place.  So then some enterprising guy figured that if they made the ball smaller and dented it all over with a ball peen hammer, it would get lost more easily and they could sell more of them.  Another funny guy figured that rather than stick (no pun intended) with just the one wooden mallet, heck, we can have steel, titanium, carbon fiber, Kevlar, old Gumby figurines and who knows what all.  Next we make them in lots of different sizes and change the shapes and materials every year so if you have last years model then you are so out of it.

Reminds me of the time when I lost my mind and thought it would be fun to learn to fly fish, (let’s see, put little wings on them and….. actually I had watched “A River Runs Through It” and did not realize how hideously boring fishing really was.  In addition I am convinced that fish know exactly where I am going to be and manage to make appointments for themselves to be somewhere else entirely).  When I told the guys at the fly fishing shop that I had a bamboo rod, they practically threw me out of the place.  Had to have a carbon fiber rod they said.  I countered that my great uncle fished with the thing.  They were having none of it.  You would have thought I was trying to convince the CHP that I should be allowed to ride a louge down highway 101 through Santa Rosa at rush hour with a quart of Glenmorangie warming my insides.

(Go Scots!)

About lawnwatch

Self-appointed know-it-all and gadfly.
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