John Kendrick Bangs

“ I always grow sarcastic when golf is mentioned.
"Dr. Johnson be--" began Boswell.
"Boswell!" I remonstrated.
"Dr. Johnson be it, I was about to say," clicked the type-writer, suavely; but the ink was thick and inclined to spread. "Munchausen felt that Bogey was encroaching on his preserves as a man with an imagination."
"I have always considered Colonel Bogey a liar," said I. "He joins all clubs and puts up an ideal score before he has played over the links."
"That isn't the point at all," said Boswell. "Golfers don't lie. Realists don't lie. ”

“ You remember my telling you of the projected revolution led by Cromwell, and Caesar, and the others?"
"I do, very well," said I, "and I have been intending to ask you how it came out."
"Oh, everything's as fine and sweet as can be now," rejoined Boswell, somewhat gleefully, "and all because of golf. We are all quiet along the Styx now. All animosities are buried in the general love of golf, and every one of us, high or low, autocrat and revolutionist, is hobnobbing away in peace and happiness on the links. ”

“ Across whose legs?"
"Yours," replied Boswell. "Just take your caddy up, place him across your knees, and spank him with your brassey. Spank isn't a good golf term, but it is good enough for the average caddy; in fact, it will do him good."
"Go on," said I, with a mental resolve to adopt his prescription.
"Well," said Boswell, "Munchausen, having received an imaginary challenge from an imaginary opponent, accepted. He went out to the links with an imaginary ball, an imaginary bagful of fanciful clubs, and licked the imaginary life out of the colonel." ”