Thursday, March 12, 2009

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?

He’s a crafty greenskeeper with license to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. Now he has to laugh because this time he’s outsmarted even himself. His enemy, his foe, is an animal. In order to conquer the animal, he's learned to think like an animal, and whenever possible, to look like one. He smells varmint poontang and the only good varmint poontang is dead varmint poontang. Unafraid to eat a Baby Ruth fished out of a drained swimming pool, Carl Spackler is an incredible Cinderella story—an unknown that came out of nowhere to win the Masters. He’s also blended Bluegrass, Kentucky Bluegrass, Featherbed Bent and Northern California Sensemilia (in which you can play 36 holes on it in the afternoon, then take it home and just get stoned to the bejeezus). Most notably, he once caddied for the Dalai Lama. Though he didn’t get any money, this Paco Camino Man will receive total consciousness on his deathbed. So he’s got that going for him, which is nice. Gunga galunga…gunga, gunga galunga.