For the most part, the U. S. Constitution has been raped and pillaged since our forefathers masterfully produced it. But thank God for one amendent—the 22nd. It limits an individual to two successive terms as President. Why did the Jeffersons and Madisons insist on this limitation? Simple. In their day, the people were sick to death of kings. So were the leaders. Being in office was truly a “public service.” Washington set the tone by opting out after two terms. Office holders expected to give their time and energies and step aside. Today, it’s a different story altogether. Politics is a career path, an avenue to power, fame and big, big bucks. Once in office, politicians spend the bulk of their time staying in office because the office is lucrative and loaded with powerful perks. If they manage to win successive terms, it takes a major scandal to get rid of them. That is, unless the name is Clinton. Scandal made him a celebrity bad boy and he would still be in office if the law had allowed it. We like bad boy rascals. The Mafia Kingpin is cool. “We the People” gravitate to royalty. We want the government to secure our lives. That’s why we keep electing and re-electing any demagogue scoundrel that comes along promising to take care of us. Here’s a thought… wonder what would happen if we had term limits for every elected office in this beloved land of ours? Wonder how many public minded citizens would run for office if they could hold it for only one four-year term? After that, back home they go to earn an honest living like the rest of us common folk. Odds are running for office wouldn’t be worth it and the only candidates would be people sincerely interested in public service. Kind of like serving on the school board, wouldn’t you say? Like members of a jury, these officials might do what’s right for their country instead of what’s right to get themselves re-elected. Doing the right thing. Now that’s a rather original concept. Time for the axe.

The quarterback gets the ball, drops back, sprints left, reverses his field, avoids an onrushing defender, rifles a pass in the corner of the end zone. Battling with the free safety, a wide receiver dives headlong and makes the catch just as his face and chest slam into the frozen turf. Touchdown. Elation consumes millions. But wait. A bright yellow hankie lies ominously on the field. Without emotion, the referee announces a holding penalty which nullifies the play. Will there be a riot, an appeal to a higher authority, a public opinion poll? No. Incredibly, the play is erased as if it never happened and the game resumes. Too bad we don’t apply the lessons of sport to everyday life. We take the field of play, give it what we’re willing to give and accept the consequences. Victory or defeat, exaltation or humiliation, sweet success or utter failure. Live by the rules and be judged on the spot. No excuses, no handouts, no federal regulations or political correctness. People worship sport because inherently we understand, believe in and love the principle of liberty under the law. Well, unless you live in the White House.

No sport has more written about it than Golf. Why is that, do you suppose? Simple, really. Millions play the game with absolutely no chance of success — ever. But they doggedly refuse to give up a lost cause. They buy strap-on devices, braces, telescoping clubs, hinged clubs, weighted clubs, laser clubs, straps, hooks, hangers and dozens of other torture devices. Not satisfied, they buy videos, CDs and cassettes. They soak up Golf Channel instruction with hypnotic adoration, no less mesmerized than obedient disciples of some mystical cult. Not satisfied, they fork out $2500 for interactive instruction in Arizona or Florida, complete with physiological and psychological counseling. Not satisfied, they subscribe to slick magazines, studying stop-action photos, diagrams and anatomical charts. And finally, they read Murphy’s Golf in the Kingdom to connect with their Inner Self, searching for meaning, because they have come to understand that Golf is Life and Life is Golf. What a crock! Somebody has to blow the lid off this foolishness, tell the truth and relieve millions of deranged, misguided souls from their suffering. Golf is a game for left-brained, robotic, anal-retentive, solitary, single-dimensioned, self-absorbed — if not dull — humans. It is not a game for intelligent, well-rounded, spontaneous personalities. What millions of frustrated golfers must understand is this: you stink because you have active, creative brains. You are hopelessly inept because you are empathetic human beings. You fail and will always fail because you are engaging, giving, intelligent and aware of life all around you. By contrast, study the greatest players of all time. Pavlov’s dog was less predictable than your average pro. Rain Man was more personable. Jack, Arnie, Tiger, Annika and all the rest learned how to do one thing — swing a stick in exactly the same way, thousands of times. How pray tell, could they do this? Why, through mind-numbing, brainless, endless, repetitive practice. Alone. In the rain. In the wind. In bed. In the can. Forsaking all others and all else. And what do you and your fellow hackers do? You revile yourselves. Incredibly, you equate your golfing abilities with self-worth. You beat yourselves up for lacking the character to control your own minds and bodies. Listen to me. The next time you stand over a golf ball, and your brain is whirling {(“line up, keep still, wonder what kind of bird that is, hmmnn, my shoes are filthy, keep your spine angle, take it straight back, call Fred later, think I’m out of propane, car’s coming”) (SMASH, SH—T)}, be assured of this fact: You are the ones with superior intelligence. You are the thinkers. You have the active brains. You have the beautiful minds. You are not genetically predisposed to play a game designed for those who have the rote mentality of a Forrest Gump.