This Update Is Hilarious Or Else

Well, we've got some scores from the Masters Invitational, and half the field is bummin' right now. This is the hardest part of any Club Chairman's job...who the fuck am I kidding? I love making cuts, especially when I am not one of them.

Mayor McVesco, you fielded the single worst team in this entire tournament. You finished the second round at 40 over par, which is like Baxter eating an entire wheel of cheese. I'm not even mad, I'm impressed. 40-over? Even our esteemed Administrator could not accomplish that feat on my wedding day, and he tried his darndest. Blame Sergio, as usual.

In eleventh place are Brenda-Pan's Pimps, a team captained by our favorite left-wing political operative. You finished 30 over par, but I'm sure you're not sweating it too bad. You see, this owner is getting married this summer in Ireland to a lovely young lass. Alas, I won't make it to the Emerald Isle (I've made it fairly clear how I feel about those potato-grubbing swine, the Irish)--consider this my non-RSVP.

We had a tie for ninth place at +28. The Asshole Yankee Fan and the catcher on our summer softball team fell victim to the foibles of Hefty and Serge, respectively. Sayonara.

The Dancing Wookie made a run at it, but fell short at 26-over and eighth place. Da Schmelz, who actually won this pool back in the halcyon days of 2003, missed the cut by a stroke at +24.

Let's move on to the people with actual intelligence. Booze submitted the Masters Invitational's most expensive entry, $12 over the standard budget. Unfortunately, all that extra cash went to his two benched teams (one of which imploded at 33 over par). The starting four for Team Booze ably acquitted themselves, sliding just under the cut line at +23. Even better, all four players on that foursome (Tiger, Cink, Sabbatini and Rollins) as well as the four from the "B" team (Scott, Ogilvy, Ames and Beem) made the real cut at Augusta. Booze has options.

Slightly handicapped are the Corona Hammers, who lost one player from each of their three foursomes. The remaining players did their job, however, posting a +22, good enough for a share of fourth place. The Hammers have decided to stick with their "A" team, consisting of Ogilvy, Cink, Weir and no one (Darren Clarke missed the cut).

The father and son Slinger teams made it to the weekend at +22 and +20, respectively. These men are very disappointed in black sheep brother Sling (the softball catcher) and will spend the evening beating him with a 6-iron. The old man has two full groups to choose from, while the youngster has a sleeper foursome at his disposal--his "C" team of Scott, Stenson, Wetterich and Calcavecchia. Sounds like a bunch of filthy immigrants, but they can swing it.

Alone in second is yours truly, sparkling at eleven o'er par. My value-priced powerhouse quartet of thugs (relatively intimidating gents, for golf anyway) launched themselves into Saturday with stunning length (like me!) and poor puttering (no comment). If Ogilvy, Stenson, Wetterich and Cink can quit whiffing on the three-footers (sounds like when I lived in the dorms) we can bring home the bitches (and by bitches I mean, well bitches).

Please rehearse your boos, catcalls and raspberries for our description of our leader, one Arvada Schwag (go home, hippie!). This despicable villain has not only hogged the coveted Green Jacket (we really have one, we gaffled it from a hobo) for two consecutive years, he looks poised to greedily hang on to it for a third. He can kindly eat a bag of dicks. All that needs to happen is for Tiger to miss his tee time, and I've got it in the bag. That shit happens all the time.