Thursday, July 23, 2009
The AntiChrist Wears FootJoys
I snuck out to the golf course earlier this week. As is so often the case, I was alone because none of my friends are dumb enough to play golf, which spelled in reverse is "flog". The friendly first tee starter matched me up with a pair of brothers, I'll call them Daryl the Younger and Daryl the Older.
The Younger was an investment manager for a national brokerage firm, married, the father of two teens and, in outward appearance, a pretty standard suburban fellow. Daryl the Older had been in sales for a telephone equipment manufacturer but was "between opportunities", married and the father of a 20-something who was soon to go to college. He too was a typical-looking once-a-month golfer: Bermuda shorts, Polo shirt, anklet socks and a baseball cap with a University of Georgia logo.
We were an agreeable threesome and exchanged pleasantries, golf cliches--"never up, never in", "You da man", etc.--and bits and pieces of personal information.
It came to light that I was a writer of sorts and they asked about the nature of my latest efforts. They were hoping, I imagine, that I was a famous author of crime fiction or, given that I have a rainbow hued umbrella on my golf bag, romance bodice rippers. They tried to hide their disappointment when I explained that I wrote policy-wonkish non-fiction with nary a sex scene, except for occasional comments about various politicos and their penchant for having sex with those other than their spouses.
After grabbing a cold one at the turn, we arrived at the 10th tee. The Younger asked what I thought of the proposed health care reform currently being turned into sausage by the congress. My response indicated (1) that I thought that both political parties were avoiding the core problem of America's health care crisis (provider cost inflation) and (2) although Obama was addressing insurance coverage for all, he was not providing cost inflation solutions, a combination that would prove too expensive.
Apparently, my answer indicated that I was not an Obama worshipper because Daryl the Younger followed on with this question, asked without the slightest hint of irony, jest or sarcasm and apropos to nothing that we had been discussing, "What do you think about Obama being the AntiChrist?"
I am, if I do say so my-own-self, pretty quick on my 9.5 B width feet but to this question I could only manage a weak, "I beg your pardon?"
Given a few hours I did come up with one or two clever rejoinders such as, "I thought that Cheney had a lock on that", or "Barack's new dog is going to be very disappointed." However, as with all bon mots, better never than late.
The Younger continued, "He matches up on many of the signs of being the AntiChrist. You should check it out."
I did a quick take over each shoulder to make sure that Allen Funt and his camera crew were not lurking in the bushes. No, I was quite alone with Daryl and Daryl. I turned to my companions, took a deep breath and said in a clear, if somewhat tremulous, voice, "So, how 'bout those Braves?"
This being Georgia, I could have used "Dawgs" instead of "Braves" and the result would have been the same. We immediately launched into a sports conversation unrelated to politics or religion and thus it remained for the last nine holes.
The incident, brief as it was, is unsettling on a number of levels. One would think that for a person who believed that a sitting U.S. president was the Biblically prophesied AntiChrist, drastic action would be warranted. Daryl the Younger is not a wild-eyed, wild-haired crazy in the mold of Rasputin but faced with worldwide Armageddon shouldn't he be out plotting heroic measures to save mankind? But no, he's out playing golf.
The opposing, yet still unsettling, possibility is that the Younger, being a Christian, which is a necessary ingredient in the AntiChrist scenario, is comfortable in the eventual triumph of good over evil wherein the Christians are olly-olly-in-free. The Younger may be looking forward to the big day with great anticipation. Shoot, he may have voted for Barack just to help kick-start the program. It depends on when the Obama/AntiChrist news hit the Internet and talk shows, before or after the November elections.
Also, curiosity being what it is among writers, I visited the Internet and found several unsettling sites devoted to the specific topic of Obama the AntiChrist. These sites have one common denominator, all of them are spooky in their sincerity. I also found that Obama is not the only living person currently in the running as the AntiChrist. The Pope is also a contender, given his position as head of the Catholic Church (which for some is enough said) and his brief stint in the Nazi Youth Corps.
But, back to Obama the AntiChrist. Perhaps most unsettling of all is the fact that Obama is a golfer, one of the fraternity of self-loathing masochists in soft spikes and hideous slacks. I think that the Biblical prophets, being all-seeing and all-knowing, would have mentioned something about that in the 27 signs of the AntiChrist. However, I have carefully read all 27 signs and there is no mention of anything that would seem related to golf. There is, however, the "666" sign (Barack=6 letters, Hussein=6 letters and Obama=5 lett....never mind).
It is in the following bit of presidential golf information that I found proof that Obama is not the AntiChrist. By all reliable accounts, Barack is a hacker, just like the rest of us delusional clowns who buy $400 drivers. We who load up on Titleist Pro V 1 balls at $4 each only to launch them directly into the first water hazard that confronts us. This group who own range finders that give accurate distances to the pin, a very thin object 183 yards away which we couldn't hit unless it was a mistake; middle aged men in Nike golf clothing (just like Tiger's) who attack the course like a better dressed version of a Texas chain gang hacking weeds in a bar ditch. He's one of us.
If Obama were the AntiChrist, with immense power and total control, he'd have game. Perhaps the Pope plays to scratch. Yikes!
Observoid of the Day: Silence is golden; duct tape is silver.