Everybody wants a Lil' Schtick Sometimes; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Australian Rules Football

First things first. I found this hat at work in a bin full of giveaway crap. I didn't need the Summer In Arvada calendar or promotional cowboy boot, but how could I leave behind a bright red 2008 Senior Open cap?

This piece of headwear rules for a few obvious reasons:

1. It's the Senior Open. It's gonna be at The Broadmoor, evidently, and what's more perfect than a buncha aged white dudes and their ball-washing groupies invading Colorado Springs? For those of you who don't live around here--assuming incorrectly that "you" are reading this, when in fact you are watching TV, getting arrested for petty crimes, taking long baths, admiring photographs of colorful lizards from Central America, struggling over your novel, putting in the fries, running spreadsheets and pretty much every single thing you could possibly be doing besides--Colorado Springs is a haven for conservative, Christian, military folk with little tolerance for gay folk, liberal shrub-huggin' hippie types and other such non-productive riff-raff. The U.S. Senior Open of the notoriously progressive sport of golf will fit right in. To quote from a man we'll address more of a few lines down, I can't believe nobody has thought of this before.

2. It's red, which sets off the natural ruddiness of my cheeks, and...

3. It's only 2007. I don't know how the folks behind organized golf traveled to the future, and perhaps it's best I don't find out. But their super future science hat is mine now, along with any attached ancillary benefits (friendship with helpful spirits/aliens, power of multiple wishes, "natural male enhancement.")

Problem is, it makes my head look like a giant toe. Anyway.

There has been mucho consternation and gnashing of teeth here at HoG Headquarters. As Ol' No. 7 put it, what's our hook? Our grabber? Our schtick? We've decided that it is, at least partly, to insult the sweet holy hell out of anyone naive enough to post here, but that by itself is not enough. There has to be more.

So I've taken it upon myself to whistle up this hog-callin' contest. From here on, I'm gonna stick with the schtick that done schtuck me this far: insulting sports media personalities.

More to come...