Confession is Good for the Soul I have a problem. Some might call it an addiction. I like to think of it as a most unnatural love. The kind of child-frightening adoration that is certain to be used against me in some sort of trail (or at least indictment hearing). The beast of which I speak may be unknown to most of you, and for that you should be thankful. She is a harsh mistress this "Golden Tee" video golf. That's right. Golf. Of the digital variety. I love it. I can't get enough of it. It absorbs a surprising large amount of my money and I don't care. Even more twisted? I hate real golf. I wasn't always this way. For the longest time I resisted the game. I looked upon those people I know who played it regularly as strange and disturbed individuals. Why in God's name would anybody waste $3 on a game based upon a sport that isn't in the least bit interesting? Were they also fans of video bass fishing? What about that amazing new paint drying simulator I had heard so much about? All that was before boredom and sheer curiosity got the better of me and I played a game. One game, I thought, then I would be fully qualified to tell all those losers what a bunch of losers they were. Oh, but the joke was on me. In no time flat I was the king of the losers, and proud of it! When the new courses were unveiled recently what I there for the grand moment? You're damn right I was. in the four days since then have I played more rounds than I can keep track of? Oh yeah. Should my family and friends be worried about this? Who can say. While it is true that I've just devoted more that one sentence to video golf, it should also be pointed out that I stopped short of employing the masturbation metaphor I came up with. Even though I really wanted to make hole in one jokes.
|