What Took Us So Long?

This day promises to be a screwed up mess. I woke up at 3 o’clock in the morning, came downstairs and enjoyed the peculiar delicacy of watching the gyrations of the Asian stock markets, not something I recommend for the uninitiated. It’s like watching digital grass grow. Then I got myself fully up to speed on the latest labor negotiations between the billionaire owners and the millionaire players of Major League Baseball. The urge to strangle them all with my bare hands is strong at 4 in the morning, I learned.

After a couple of hours of this, I began to get sleepy again, so I went upstairs and laid down for what I thought would be a quick nap. Just woke up at 8 o’clock, my daily routine in pieces on the floor. It’s cloudy and wet outside, a gloomy forecast in place for several more days, and my Governor has created yet another paid holiday for State workers, Juneteenth, a day that celebrates the Emancipation of slaves in America. Say what you will about Ralph Northam, dude knows how to make up for blackface photos in a yearbook. We get it, Governor. You’re really sorry. But, setting aside the foibles of our witless Governor, why has the Emancipation of African Americans not already been a State holiday? I mean, its one of the seminal events of our nation’s history, ending as it did the legality of human bondage. I would have thought if Columbus gets a day, why not the ending of slavery?

So, yesterday I played 18 holes of golf at Royal New Kent, my first full 18 holes of the year. I played with my good buddy and business partner, Doug Greenwood. We played in a misting rain the entire time. We had the entire golf course to ourselves. It was great fun. I started off terribly. As one might expect after so long a layoff, a couple of 8’s in the first six holes. Then my body became reacquainted with the game of golf and I settled down and played quite well. Shot a 40 on the back nine to shoot 88, losing to Mr. Country Club-I play nine holes after dinner every night-my golf clubs cost more than your car, Greenwood by one lousy shot! If my friend Tommy Thompson is reading this, I need a putting lesson, bro. I missed every single makable putt, which I define as anything inside 10 feet, except one six footer. Dreadful. But it felt great to get out and play a round of golf. Really great.