Newsweek magazine recently reported that President Donald Trump has spent over $102 million of taxpayers’ money on golf during his time in office.
That bit of news is enough to tee off millions of American taxpayers, especially those of us who have never picked up a golf club.
I think of golf as addictive as well as an elitist sport. I’m reminded of an anecdote about two golfers who were playing alongside a rural road as a funeral procession was passing by. Suddenly, one of the men dropped his club, and stood at attention with his hand over his heart as the Hearse passed.
”Did you know the deceased?” the other golfer asked.
”Yes. Oh, yes indeed, “ the fellow sighed sadly, “We’ve been married for 35 years.”
Trump’s golfing costs are not just for green fees and caddy tips. They include the cost of transportation and the entourage of the security detail for family members who accompany the president on these outings.
It’s ironic that Trump was critical of his predecessor’s golfing expenses. During Trump’s campaign for president, he promised voters he would keep his nose to the grindstone and not indulge in so much recreation.
Trump’s $102 million bill, a little over halfway through his term, is $12.7 million less than President Barack Obama’s expenses for his eight-year term, Newsweek reports, citing documents from Judicial Watch.
I never excelled at sports. Well, actually, I was pretty good at ping-pong but never went off my rocker over it.
I was a Latin scholar in high school, but none of the girls ever fawned over me as they did over the football quarterback who was, as Trump recently said of a critic, “dumb as a rock” and twice as ugly as I was.
In fact, while in the Air Force I was my squadron’s ping pong champ.
Lest you think I’m bragging, I need to tell you that Time magazine’s list of “The 100 Most Influential People” is out. Once again, I failed to make the list. Well, maybe next year.
The power of Paige
I’ve been searching for a word to adequately describe Paige Winter and have come up short. Paige is the 17-year-old who recently suffered the loss of a leg and other injuries when she was attacked by a shark while swimming with her father at Fort Macon park on the North Carolina coast.
”Don’t be mad at the shark. I was in its domain,” Paige said from her hospital bed. “Sharks are good people.”
I dare say most of us would be cursing the shark with every breath, were we in Paige’s place.
I have searched my noggin for a word that adequately describes such an awesome attitude, such an awesome person. Awesome will have to do.
The crow plague
Poet Robert Frost obviously was not a bird watcher or he would never nave penned these lines:
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
During all my years of bird watching, I never had to deal with fighting off crows from my feeding station. For years I waged war with squirrels and chipmunks who gulped down sunflower seed. But then I learned about hot pepper-treated seed and suet. Problem solved.
Now it’s crows. Farmers have long been fighting crows that pull up sprouting corn to get at the kernels. What happened to all the scarecrows that used to dot the cornfields of America?
Listen up, bird-watching friends. Any of you have a cure for crows?