@ Hostek "If you don't know where you're going, any bus will do"
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|Wednesday, October 28, 2020|
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A golfer set up his ball on the first tee, took a mighty swing and hit his ball into a clump of trees.
He found his ball and saw an opening between two trees he thought he could hit through.
Taking out his 3-wood, he took another mighty swing, the ball hit a tree, bounced back, hit him in the forehead and killed him.
As he approached the gates of Heaven, St. Peter saw him coming and asked "Are you a good golfer'?, to which the man replied: "Got here in two, didn't I?"
The bride came down the aisle and when she reached the altar, the groom was standing there with his golf bag and clubs at his side.
She said:" What are your golf clubs doing here"? He looked her right in the eye -- and said, "This isn't going to take all day, is it?"
An octogenarian who was an avid golfer moved to a new town and joined the local Country Club. He went to the Club for the first time to play but was told that there wasn't anybody he could play because they were already out on the course. He repeated several times that he really wanted to play.
Finally, the assistant Pro said he would play with him and asked him how many strokes he wanted for a bet. The 80 year old said "I really don't need any strokes as I have been playing quite well. The only real problem I have, is getting out of sand traps." And he did play well. Coming to the par four 18th they were all even. The Pro had a nice drive and was able to get on the green and two-put for a par. The old man had a nice drive, but his approach shot landed in a sand trap next to the green.
Playing from the bunker he hit a high ball which landed on the green and rolled into the cup. Birdie, match and all the money!
The Pro walked over to the sand trap where his opponent was still standing in the trap. He said:" nice shot, but I thought you said you have a problem getting out of sand traps?"
Replied the octogenarian "I do, would you please give me a hand."
A woman goes to the local newspaper office to see that the obituary for her recently deceased husband is published.
The obit editor informs her that there is a charge of 50 cents per word. She pauses, reflects, and then says well, then, let it read "Fred Brown died."
Amused at the woman's thrift, the editor tells her that there is a seven word minimum for all obituaries.
She thinks it over and in a few seconds says, "In that case, let it read, "Fred Brown died: golf clubs for sale.