>> New guy Cubicle not in the computer yet.
BEGINNING STUFF
At 6:58 it wasn't looking good for Brisk Golf™ this morning. Your Humble Q was resigned to the possibility that it could be a field of one competing today—mano a solo (which also describes my sex life). But I was pulled out of the jaws of loneliness by Waffle House, who came gliding in without a moment to spare. "Party of two" does sound a lot more festive than "party of one," so I was grateful to see the most loyal of all pax rolling into BRP.
But never count a pax out just because the workout start time has passed! Just as the second hand swept by the 12 at 7:00 a.m., Caesar and Ramrod came in like they were trying out for the next Fast and Furious entry (R.I.P Paul Walker, who I don't know because I never watched a Fast and Furious movie in my life).
Now boasting a strong contingent of four, we headed out to Hole #1, where we did a couple of practice throws that foreshadowed the upcoming debacle that can only occur when a group of men who can't play disc golf to save their lives decide to play a much more difficult version of the same game.
MIDDLE STUFF
Just before launch, Cubicle (from Myrtle Beach) appeared out of nowhere—like a midget in a David Finch series (except much, much taller). Now we were five and the world's tallest midget joined YHQ and Caeser against Waffle House and Ramrod (a grouping we would soon regret).
The first team in the basket wins the hole. After both teams complete their tee shot, all players run to the disc, perform the prescribed exercise, then make the next throw (alternating players). Today we did merkins, squats, dry docks, hand-clap SSHs, and WWIIs. Team WaffleRod got off to a strong start after Team JersCaesIcle conceded on a hotly disputed first hole score. It was 3-0 before JersCaesIcle found their groove and picked up the next three games. Then WaffleRod got the next three. Then JersCaesIcle got. . .well. . .one more hole for the entire rest of the game. The final score after 18 holes: 14-4 (or maybe 13-5, but whatever—it was a blowout). For the record, let's just say that the score doesn't reflect the highly competitive nature of the game and how razor thin some of WaffleRod's wins actually were (and by "some" I mean 2 of the 14 holes they won).
Despite our attempts to draw within the lines and stay on the fairway, we managed to inject ourselves into copperhead country with a number of errant launches, but if we never give them a chance to bite us, how are they going to maintain their nasty reputation? #CopperheadsArePeopleToo
END STUFF
Coffeeteria had 120% participation, with Gnarly Goat joining us after his firehouse shift. The conversation was as brisk as the golf, with buttholes, hot pole vaulters, cauliflower ear, Taiwan, difficult sports, and strangers' kids on the agenda.
Cubicle is thinking of pulling a reverse Office Space by going from construction to a (presumably normal) job doing. . .something else (although probably something that doesn't involve a cubicle). The launching-off point of this career pivot will be the CPAC convention where he hopes to meet likeminded people who are doing things—things that maybe he could help them do. Whatever people who attend CPAC conventions do. Nobody knows. Especially not Cubicle. Or maybe he's just not telling. After all, we could be spies working for UNlikeminded people like the DNC or Pelosi or Hillary's emails or Hunter's laptop.
Thanks for your attendance and your enthusiasm, gentlemen! We are keeping alive the Sport of Kings!