RUGator

Listening to the hilarious recounts/speculation surrounding today’s news that Tiger Woods crashed his car into a fire hydrant and tree at 2:30 am this morning, I was reminded of a funny exchange between Abbott and Costello. The one where Bud Abbott is trying to teach Lou Costello how to drive a car. In the skit, Lou (who’s getting more and more frustrated, ala “Who’s on First?”) keeps asking Bud if he should “put it in reverse?” And Bud keeps replying, “Go ahead. GO AHEAD!”

Some of the news announcers I watched discussing the Woods’ incident, seemed to be holding back laughter as they reported on the circumstances (“Tiger Woods crashed his car into a fire hydrant and then a tree at 2:30 am this morning. His wife used a golf club to break a window to help free him from the vehicle. He suffered minor injuries…..”

Imagine the yarn being spun right about now.

You can’t make this stuff up.

Or can you?

8:07 by Global Communication

1. “On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting. ‘Twas only that when he was off was he acting.” Oliver Goldsmith

2. “I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it.” Mark Twain

3. “My parents only had one argument in forty-five years. It lasted forty-three years.” Cathy Ladman

4. “Those are my principles, and if you don’t like them… well, I have others.” Groucho Marx

5. “The gambling known as business looks with austere disfavor upon the business known as gambling.” Ambrose Bierce

Where are all these cows I keep hearing about. And when are they coming home?

Who let them out in the first place?

And what’s gonna happen when they finally do come home?

If they’re smart, they’ll stay out there.

Rangeler…

Real. Comfortable. Deals.

Check out this article from today’s New York Times re: The Check Writer:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/21/nyregion/21rangel.html?_r=1

Grant was nuts.

Had ‘em too.

“Let’s climb the water tower,” he suggested. Standing within the area of play at The Ponte Vedra Golf Club, stood the water tower. Adorned with the Club’s logo, it was its iconic landmark.

And so climb up it he did.

Right up the center of the tower. Upon reaching the summit, he popped open the top of the tower’s bulbous head and bellowed to the players below, “This is God and I have your balls!”

The he showered the people, not with love, but with beat up Titleists.

So many moons ago.

Sitting on the Metro, I’d have to shade my eyes.

On a fiercely hot and bright D.C. summer morning, I was on my way to The Mall. That night was still a daytime away. It would be baseball under the lights. But for now, it was the sun and a phone call which rang through my mind.

The caddymaster had called before I had been dropped off. An appointment was made. For the weekend, I’d have a loop. Teachers take what they can during the summer months. My penance was served on the golf course. Not as a player, but as a looper. It helped pay the bills.

The stops would come and pass. One after another. Until mine. I’d get off here. And walk the rest. To kill the time. Until the unannounced tears would flow.

Into my pocket I’d reach to find a gulf. No calls could come in. Silence would be the only sound. The phone, left on the train, was gone.

A store was located. Inside, I’d tell them about my predicament. At least I’d have no interruptions. Plans would have to be put in place. Services canceled. A call home from the store to alert the authorities. A new device order would be placed. Until then, I’d be a ghost amongst the living and the dead.

And the game would come. And go.

I’d sit in the stands next to an Angels fan, come to D.C. to see his team play. And I’d learn that the game had no bounds limited only to the Capital of Baseball. But by then (now) that moniker had been diluted ever since The Mick and Say Hey could be seen and heard. So many summers ago.

And then back to home, with a new phone, I’d get a call. It was the caddymaster.

A phone had been recovered. The last number dialed. Traced back to me, the phone had been turned in to the lost and found. The Metro authorities had it now. A good Samaritan.

And as I sit here tonight, putting these thoughts down, I could look at it, the phone, and see a scratch on its face and wonder what else too had been altered.

“I am writing to people I respect and admire for advice,” so went my introduction years ago in a series of letters which changed my life.

Now I am asking readers of this blog to respond in kind to the following:

“If you could offer me the one piece of advice that you have found to be most instrumental to your success, what would that be?”

I am proposing a blog series entitled “The Golden Rules.” This series will focus on fellow writers who want to share their best ideas with others in the belief that in order to be successful, one must first help others succeed.

Please respond via this blog or email me at “gatorgolfmike@yahoo.com” with your thoughts.

Thank you,

RUGator

Day in and day out, what’s your favorite candy?

For me, it’s mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Just the right size.

With a very solid ratio of chocolate to peanut butter.

Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.

“ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS”
- George Orwell, Animal Farm, Ch. 10

Before becoming a teacher, I worked as a tax collector for the IRS. Here’s what I learned during those horrible days:

1. Most people have no idea how many people DO NOT pay their taxes. If they did, they’d bail out too.

2. If you’re going to owe money, owe A LOT of money. You can get away with owing a lot of money. Owe a little? You’re screwed.

3. Most Americans have no idea how LITTLE a government agency like the IRS knows/can do/ or will do. They are master illusionists. And for the most part, it’s worked.

Think about this: the new Treasury Secretary, the person responsible for, among other things, enforcing the tax laws, was a tax delinquent himself. Think about it!

And then read/re-read Animal Farm.

Better yet, open your eyes and bear witness to Orwell’s prognostications coming true