Soggy Saturday

A Tiger woke this morning. Lots of circles on his card. 6 under through 9. And he barely made the cut. Still. The island green always looms large. Phippy did not. His tighty white dress shirt strangled the swing. J-Rod jinxed the Bronx Bombers by showing up at Thursday’s game against the BoSox. But. They are pretty. Mother’s Day lobster shopping between squalls. Yay.

Pink Capper

Put a cap on this year’s Masters. Wrong about Rory. Jordan & Rickie did show up on Sunday. But. Patrick Reed was solid as a rock. The jacket fit. Deserved the “W”.

Meanwhile, it’s windy and chilling outside. Too much tube. SNL continues to stink. Except for Alec’s perfect take on the Trumpster-in-Chief. Cold open then plink. Bill Hader’s Barry is strange. Hit-man gone thespian. He is so good it works. Homeland too close to home.

Azalea Pedals

After Sergio named his daughter after the plant, he tied the record for highest scoring hole at The Masters. So yeah. Petals notwithstanding. Rainy Saturday pairings at Augusta National. Pedal to the medal on tomorrow’s soggy turf.

Paul Casey will be playing with himself. That should be fun to watch. Then there are people whose names you cannot pronounce nor have you ever heard of playing with Phippy and such. Lots of old guys made the cut. Vijay, Freddie. Ian & Tiger could be good. Otherwise until 2:00, sleep in. If Jordan doesn’t shut up, Dustin could choke him. That would entertain. Stenson and McIlroy the duo to beat. And. Yes Joey3Sticks. Rahm, Rosie & Reed are all in the hunt. Better get out that portly sized green jacket for Patrick. Justin case Thomas is out.

Masters Mix

Yes. It’s that week again. Already. 82nd Masters. Joey3Sticks has an early pick. Rosie. Justin Rose has often been a bridesmaid. Is it his turn to walk down the aisle in a Green Jacket?

Of course I’d love to see Tiger win this. But. He’s got perennial girl problems. Another blonde “golf wife-like” suing him. Hope springs.

More realistically. My prediction? Dustin is prone to choke. Jordan is annoying and likes the drink. Phippy is not out of the running. Never is at Augusta. Bubba surprises. Day is fragile. Ricky never has it on Sunday. I’ll go with Rory. Cheer for Rosie and Tiger, too.

Poulter’s putter IS hot!?

Stormy Spring

Trump vortex forming over the White House. Cannot keep up. Tweet tornadoes. Mueller. McCabe. Comey. Needed to get away from it all. Admired half-marathoners finishing a block away. Cleaned closets. Watched Bay Hill. Go Rory! No stats book obsession. He just steps up to the ball and takes the shot. Refreshing. With a leaderboard like that, golf could be back. Will Tiger peak at the Masters? Dream on. And. March zaniness. Gonzaga and Purdue left.

Stormy weather ahead. Vernal equinox notwithstanding. Happy St. Joseph’s Day.

Do the Lighten Up

Make America laugh again. Journalists are such easy prey. They take themselves so seriously that any jab puts them into supercilious overdrive. Get a grip. Stop swinging at low hanging fruit and do some real reporting. Stormy. Really? And. Of course. Dennis Rodman would love to join the Rocket Man summit. Why not?

Speaking of light. Two out of three books so far fit the bill. The Wife Between Us, by Greer Hendricks, Sarah Pekkanen. Not sure why this took two women to conjure it. Disturbed families. Vulnerable adults. Worth a few hours on a wintry Saturday. Mrs., Caitlin Macy. Upper East Side moms. Nothing more than trite. However, The Woman In the Window, by A.J. Finn is not light at all. Dr.Husband reports depressing and tedious. So nope. Won’t read that one.

Apologies to Archie Bell & the Drells. Go Tiger!

Winter Lames

No USA! Medals today. Our team is so lame that anchors are Brits. Couldn’t get Americans to cover the luge or ski jump events either. Only snowboarding & Johnny & Tara. Downhill down. On the local front. South Korea has interesting food choices. No comment.

AT&T Pebble Beach much more entertaining. Bill Murray in his screaming highwater bell-bottoms. Josh Duhamel. Tony Romo. On the links or anywhere. mAdBen just up the coast hanging in San Fran at his cousin Jamison’s restaurant Duna. Better to be there.