A Golfer’s Wife
The golfer’s wife was in full fl ight. “If you ever spent a
Sunday with me instead of playing golf I swear I would drop
dead,” she screamed.
“There’s no point in trying to bribe me,” replied
her husband.
Lost and Found
“I say, greenskeeper, I dropped my bottle of Scotch out
of the bag somewhere on the 7th. Anything handed in
at lost-and-found?”
“Only the golfer who played after you, sir.”
“The average golfer doesn’t play golf.
He attacks it.”
—Jack Burke
What’s My Handicap?
He was a smooth operator, and at the club’s annual dance, he
attached himself to the prettiest lady golfer in the room and
was boasting to her.
“You know, they’re all afraid to play me. What do you think
my handicap is?”
“Well, where do you want me to start?” came the
quick response.
Wife & Mistress
“I’ll go and ask if we can play through,” said Max to Jerry.
The two golfers had been concerned for some time about the
snail-like progress of two women who had originally been
some holes ahead and were now just in front of them on the
9th fairway.
Max returned after only a few paces toward the ladies.
“Jerry, this is very embarrassing, but would you mind
going? That’s my wife up ahead, and she’s playing with
my mistress.”
Jerry set out, only to return seconds later, having gotten no
farther forward than Max.
“I say,” he said, “what a coincidence.”
“I wasn’t this nervous playing golf when I
was drinking. It’s the f irst tournament I’ve
won on the PGA Tour in a sober manner,
so it’s a great feeling knowing I can do it
sober. I don’t think two years ago I could
have pulled this off.”
LOFT
Three aspiring golfers were taking lessons from a pro. The
fi rst guy hit the ball far to the right. “That was due to LOFT,”
said the pro.
The second man hit his ball far to the left. “That, too, was
due to LOFT,” said the pro.
The third golfer took a swing, and the ball just went a few
feet and stopped. “Once again, it’s LOFT,” the pro claimed.
“Well, what exactly do you mean by LOFT?” asked the
third golfer.
“Lack of fi ne talent,” replied the pro.
Low Eighties
“I play golf in the low eighties,” the old man was telling one of
the youngsters at his club.
“Wow,” said the young man, “that’s pretty impressive.”
“Not really,” said the old man. “Any hotter and I’d probably
have a stroke.”
Could Have Been Worse
“Hey, George, did you hear the awful news about John?” The
two golfers were talking over a drink in the club bar.
“No what happened to him?”
“Well, he had a great round on Wednesday—under seventy,
I heard—anyway, he fi nished early and drove home and found
his wife in bed with another man! No questions asked…he
just shot ’em both! Isn’t it terrible?”
“Could have been worse,” George commented.
“How?”
“If he’d fi nished early on Tuesday, he would have shot me!”
“Eighteen holes of match play will
teach you more about your foe than
nineteen years of dealing with
him across the desk.”
—Grantland Rice
The Perfect Shot
A guy stood over his tee shot for what seemed an eternity;
looking up, looking down, measuring the distance, fi guring
the wind direction and speed, and driving his partner nuts.
Finally his exasperated partner said, “What’s taking so
long? Hit the blasted ball.”
The guy answered, “My wife is up there watching me from
the clubhouse. I want to make this a perfect shot.”
“Forget it; you don’t stand a chance of hitting her from here.”
“It’s nice to have the opportunity to play for
so much money, but it’s nicer to win it.”
—Patty Sheehan
“Always keep in mind that if God didn’t
want a man to have mulligans, golf balls
wouldn’t come three to a sleeve.”
—Dan Jenkins
The Golfer and His Bride
Two old folks get married. As they are laying in their wedding
suite, staring at the ceiling, the old man says, “I haven’t been
completely honest with you. I think the world of you, but you
are only number two to me. Golf is my first love. It’s my hobby,
my passion, my first love.”
They both stare at the ceiling for a bit longer and then the
woman says, “While we’re baring our souls, I guess I better
tell you that I have been a hooker all my life.”
The man jumps out of bed, looks at her a moment, and then
says, “Have you tried widening your stance and adjusting
your grip?”
Blind Golf
A priest, a doctor, and a professional golfer were waiting
one morning for a particularly slow group of golfers.
Golfer: “What’s with these guys? We must have been
waiting for fi fteen minutes!”
Doctor: “I don’t know but I’ve never seen
such ineptitude!”
Priest: “Hey, here comes the greenskeeper. Let’s
have a word with him. Hi, George. Say, George, what’s
with that group ahead of us? They’re rather slow,
aren’t they?”
George: “Oh yes. That’s a group of blind fi refi ghters.
They lost their sight while saving our clubhouse last
year, so we let them play here anytime, free of charge!”
(Silence)
Priest: “That’s so sad. I think I will say a special
prayer for them tonight.”
Doctor: “Good idea. And I’m going to contact my
ophthalmologist buddy and see if there’s anything he
can do for them.”
Golfer: “Why can’t these guys play at night?
Hoover
Father Murphy was playing golf with a parishioner. On the 1st
hole, he sliced into the rough. His opponent heard him mutter,
“Hoover!” under his breath.
On the 2nd hole, Father Murphy’s ball went straight into a
water hazard. “Hoover!” again, a little louder this time.
On the 3rd hole, a miracle occurred, and Father Murphy’s
drive landed on the green only six inches from the hole! “Praise
be to God!”
He carefully lined up the putt, but the ball curved around
the hole instead of going in. “Hoover!”
By this time, his opponent couldn’t withhold his curiosity
any longer, and asked why the priest said, “Hoover.”
“It’s the biggest dam I know.”
Pregnant Golf
The room was full of pregnant women and their partners,
and the Lamaze class was in full swing. The instructor was
teaching the women how to breathe properly, along with
informing the men how to give the necessary assurances at
this stage of the plan.
The teacher then announced, “Ladies, exercise is good
for you. Walking is especially benefi cial. And gentlemen,
it wouldn’t hurt you to take the time to go walking with
your partner!”
The room got quiet. Finally, a man in the middle of the group
raised his hand.
“Yes?” replied the teacher.
“Is it all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?”
Clubs
After a not-so-terrific game, Dan and I were heading toward
the clubhouse for drinks. I said to Dan, “What do you think I
should give my caddie?”
Dan replied under his breath, “How about your clubs?”
Sunday
In the United States, Sunday is the day that most of us bow our
heads. Some are in church—the rest are out playing golf.
“Why am I using a new putter? Because the
last one didn’t f loat too well.”
—Craig Stadler
“All it takes to upset a serious
golfer is one high ball.”
—Unknown
Stop Nagging
“Mildred, shut up,” cried the golfer at his nagging wife, “Shut
up or you’ll drive me out of my mind!”
“That,” said Mildred, “wouldn’t be a drive; it would be a
short putt.”
True to Form
The police arrived and found a woman dead on her living
room floor with a golf club next to her body. They asked the
husband, “Is this your wife?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Did you kill her?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“It looks like you struck her eight times with this 3-iron. Is
that correct?”
“Well, yes,” he replied, “…but could you put me down
for five?”
Weekend
I was talking with two of my coworkers last Monday morning
at work.
“What did you do this weekend?” I asked Jim.
“Dropped hooks into water,” he replied.
“Fishing, eh?”
“No, golfing.”
Do You Play?
About four or fi ve years ago I was standing in a ticket line at
LAX, and a fellow in a line parallel to mine had a golf bag slung
over his shoulder. Since the line was long and airline ticketing
is a slow process at best, we struck up a conversation. He
brightened when I admired his golf bag, and he proudly stated
that he was on the PGA Tour. Then he turned to me and asked
the question all golfers ask: “Do you play?”
I shook my head, “I used to, but I quit because I wasn’t very
good. I shot consistently in the lower seventies.”
There was a long, low intake of breath, then, “The
lower seventies?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Consistently?” he queried admiringly.
“Every hole,” I confessed
Holy One
A priest rushed from church one day to keep a golf date. He
was halfway down the fi rst fairway, waiting to hit his second
shot, when he heard the familiar “Fore!” Seconds later, a ball
slammed into his back.
Soon the golfer who had made the drive was on the scene
to offer his apologies. When the priest assured him that he
was all right, the man smiled. “Thank goodness, Father!”
he exclaimed. “I’ve been playing this game for forty years,
and now I can fi nally tell my friends that I’ve hit my fi rst
holy one!”
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