Will Credit Crisis Bring an End to the Game of Golf? (Humor)

I tell you, if there’s one good thing that can come from this lovely credit crisis that has half of Wall Street shitting itself, while the other half is trying to pry open the suicide-proof windows in their hideously opulent offices, then it is the ever so slim, but oh so titillating prospect that golf may one day soon vanish from the Earth.

Now that Congress killed the $700 billion bailout plan, those dues at the country club might become too much of a sacrifice for the Jones family, or what’s left of it, after Father decided to take his pride with his investments and drop like Oedipus’ hard-on right before he gouged his eyes out.

‘Cause let’s face it, even with the golden parachutes these families will most certainly receive from the Government, that took their money from the same people who Pop-Pop’s investment bank has been taking money from since before the dawn of time, there won’t be any time for Golf while they’re busy immigrating to Cuba to make off with the rest of whatever the next Bailout is going to provide these elitist bastards.

Hell, businessmen of the new millennium pre-depression age might even decide to embrace a more modern and original form of suicide than hopping out a window (and let’s face it, they might have to, as a lot of the fat bastards probably couldn’t even fit through the frames).

For instance, what if one of those Rush Limbaugh types finally decides to swallow the entire bottle of Oxicotin before they’ve had their morning glory?

Or how about if Ted Turner set himself aflame outside the Pentagon, an act, which would only make the ticker tape headlines at the bottom of the screen because Larry King was too busy shuffling into eternity via an overdose of Garlique on live TV?

But what if thousands of business men somberly trudged into the afterlife wearing plaid shorts, their favorite Lacoste polo shirt and a nine Iron in a massive Heaven’s Gate-esque suicidal orgy with the help a shot of arsenic mixed in with their already repugnant Arnold Palmers, clogging those once verdant cathedrals of grotesque capitalist excess into an ultra-exclusive graveyard?

Think of it, we could even start some sort of public works initiative that would employ thousands in an effort to remove the top 5 percent of our nation's income and wealth from sandtraps and the murmuring banks of water obstacles. Hell, I’d do it for free!

Just think of what we could do with all of that space! We could make things like nature preserves, parks for children, farmland, even just ignore the space altogether.

I would personally turn every golf course in this country into giant drive-in movie theatre, so that I could park my Prius on some suit named Ford’s final resting place while I try to remove his daughter’s bra.

All the while, we'll watch pirated DVDs on a massive projector that shines upon the driving range fence where old Papa Ford once wasted a substantial portion of his life avoiding his family, and envying his business partners’ reportedly massive genitals.

But how liberating would it be to know that thousands of acres of land could possibly be wrested from the vicious clenched fists of this nations “elite” knowing that they could no longer enjoy their favorite pastime of beating the hell out of a tiny little ball while planning how they will repeatedly rape the culture and pocketbooks of those with less money, and better things to do with their time.

Golf would in no way be a loss to our society. It is an elitist game that makes a complete embarrassment of itself by masquerading as a sport. It’s boring. It takes up utterly too much space, and the only people who play it are professional douche-bags.

But why wait until the economy collapses? Why don’t we take matters into our own hands and do away with golf, do away with the suits, and bring on my drive-in movie theatres. I’ll bring the popcorn!