This heat we've been frying in for weeks now is making me crazy. I'm seeing mirages out there. At least I hope they're mirages. I could swear I saw a camel's footprints in a sand bunker and I'm pretty sure that wasn't really Lady Gaga putting out on the ninth hole.
I knew I shouldn't have decided to play when I hit a tee shot and the ball stuck to the club.
I saw a dog chasing a cat across the fairway and both of them were walking.
On the way to the course, I saw a funeral procession stopped at a Dairy Queen.
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I knew it was going to be too hot for me to play when the weather forecasters issued a fat guy in tank top warning but I went anyway. Ignorance isn't just bliss, it's also stupidity.
It's so hot, the trees are just drooping out there, hoping for a dog to come by.
OK, enough with the groans. Hey, these are the jokes, folks. I spent a lot of time stealing them.
Golf's tough in weather like this but it beats roofing, except you have to putt.
President Obama and John Boehner had planned to play golf again but the weather was so hot, they decided to stay in the clubhouse, drink beer and tell Weiner jokes.
The slowest guy in our club gets even slower in weather like this. He teed off Tuesday and we expect him to finish any day now.
You want to know what's really a tough putt? It's a three-footer, downhill, breaking to the right and with sweat trickling down your rear, goosing you.
It's important to stay hydrated when you're out there in this heat. And no, putting salt in your beer won't do it.
I asked one of the guys sitting in the grillroom watching the market report and eating a three-pound cheeseburger if he would like to play 18. He looked at me the way a dog looks at a fire hydrant. I took that as a "no."