BOOMERS ANONYMOUS -- Care or Quit?

A pilot, you racist. Jokes aside, spring has sprung. Can you hear the music ? For me, there's warmth and sustenance in the manna from Bobby Jones's little toonamint which starts in less than two weeks. Golf's big boys will kiss the King's ring in Orlando, swing through Houston, and re-assemble at the Cathedral of Golf that is Augusta National . Way before I became a curmudgeonly ex-lawyer and cyber-entrepreneur, there was, and there remains, an epic quality to the Masters which I will admit holds me spellbound, if not because of the ethereal atmosphere created by their meticulous greenskeeping, then only for the theater of human folly which is golf, placed on emerald pedestals amid the looming yellow pines, bright azaleas, and wound around the depths of Rae's Creek. The Masters mythology lives in the same realms as the World Series, the Super Bowl, the Kentucky Derby, Daytona, Indy, and, okay, sometimes the Stanley Cup. In spite of the degr...

That'll do, pig. IN THE BEGINNING . . .  there was " WIT , GUN , and STEIN ." That was the title of my first blog.  Some of you already knew that. WGS existed from January 2009 to March 2011.  In it, I mixed blood, sweat, and tears, with golf course and music reviews. Sometimes, I tried to be funny . Not much is left of WGS, other than the internet way-back machine archives , which means some but not all of the internet, lasts forever.  Some of the internet just dies. Notwithstanding the grandiose experiment in literary expression and political polemic, I feel successful in having conducted my verbal excercise, working through variously apt sub-titles, patching together broken phrases, just to say: "Hey. Words mean things." For example:  WGS -- "3 Things You Will Need For The End Times" As it turns out, the reference to  "End Times" was a bit melodramatic. Too early, perhaps? Wittgenstein, get it? Another sub-title was:   WGS - "A Gol...