THE ONLIEST PLACE I KNOW

Where I live is the only place I know where golf rates plummet so much. Thursday marked the third time I played this week.

So, you say or think? At resort courses that peak in February at $235 per round. Now, to be fair, one of the courses tops out seasonally at about half that. But still too much for my golf budget.

But when the temp reaches 104 as it did yesterday, golf courses drop their rates dramatically. So I teed it up at The Phoenician at 8:27 for $30. I finished just around midday when the temperature remained in the 90's. With 4% humidity. I'll take that.

Earlier in the week I played McCormick Ranch for $28.50 and teed it up at 7:09. Again, not too shabby.

Despite bragging about my deals, I share this info because it's the only place I know that lowers its rate significantly due to the weather. When it rains in Seattle or St. Louis--the Midwest's equivalent, do they drop prices? What about Florida, Vegas, or Biloxi in the warm months? Maybe somewhat, but most courses I know, at least in the Midwest don't change their price because of the conditions.

So if you Snowbirds can take a little heat, can alter your lifestyle by going to sleep early and rising early, want to save golf dollars and, of course, hotel prices, then head to AZ in the early weeks of June.

Just remember to head inside or to the pool at 2:00 or so. And drink plenty of water.

KOBE

The NBA finals start tonight. And I don't care. Ok, I do. I'd love to see the Magic well pull some Magic and beat LA.

Since the Suns made bad trades, bad coaching decisions, bad managerial front office decisions and hung on to a player (Amare) whom they overrated, well they're toast. I don't know when, if ever, they'll be back in the hunt. They were so close, too, but that's the NBA.

Even if they were still good, I don't know if I much care for the game anymore. Officials who favor, who are inconsistent, who take verbal abuse from the players on practically every foul shot. And the tattoos. Or billboards. They just gross me out. Especially the neck ones for some reason.

Now, one more thing. The picture of the woman in blue. Notice that she has all good features. But to me she's not attractive. The features just don't go together. Like Kobe. I don't usually check out or comment on guys' looks. But Kobe has good facial features. I don't really dislike him as a player, though I dislike the Lakers.

But Kobe, to me, looks like the Devil. Or what I think the Devil must look like. Just watch in the playoffs. You'll see what I mean. But you'll have to tell me, because I'm boycotting. There's enough wrong with the game I used to love without tossing in Satan.

IT TAKES ALL KINDS

But why does it take all kinds? It takes most kinds? Why not? Why must we embrace all?

Well, that has nothing to do with what I'm discoursing about today, but it makes me wonder. And what exactly is it?

Not a long walk at all, I passed it two or three times this morning on my daily walk. It's a beautiful golf setting complete with almost island green and fountain. I've always thought I'd like to sit under a tree, out of the way of a misguided golf shot and watch, take in, and read a book on a warm Summer day. But that's all I've done. Think about it.

Yesterday on another golf course I observed a fisherman on the neck of a lake. He had two women with him. They were watching and taking in under canopy covered lawn chairs. They were safe from errant shots, could observe the green, were covered from the sun, and probably laughed at my first putt. I don't know if they had books or not, but they were living the life.

When I espied the picture of the waves breaking over rocks in Maine, I thought to myself that I've never taken that opportunity either. That is, to sit unhurried by appointments or commitments and just take it the beauty of the scene. Maybe for just a short time while walking a sandy beach, but not really to experience the experience. No typo there, because it should be an experience. One that de-elevates our importance, our place in the universe.

But then again, if you've never had these ambitions, if you've never thought, "yeah, that might be kinda cool," then just remember--It takes most kinds.

FEATS

I don't understand foot fetishes. I'm not sure I understand any fetish. Mr. Webster defines a fetish as an object regarded as having magical power; a talisman. And that's the first or principal meaning.

Yet I've heard of people having foot fetishes. I don't get it.

With today's styles for both sexes there is ample opportunity to gaze upon feet and toes aplenty. Sandals and especially popular flip flops force the wearer to pay attention to his/her own feet more or expose unclipped toenails and toe jam to the world.

The toes pictured above seem to be those of a young child. Fat toes nearly bursting with newness are a dead giveaway. At the other end of the age spectrum, one can expect to find bunions and an occasional hammertoe. In addition to yellow nail fungus. (See why I could never have a foot fetish--even the terms of description for our pods are mostly unfavorable.)

Fat Freddy Flintstone feet, little toe daggers, webbed duck toes, broken toes that never mended right, hairy girl toes, along with corns all paint pretty negative images. Dirty toenails, cracked heals, and of course smelly feet just prove my point.

When I see guys in movies painting women's toenails or even worse. Ok, what's worse? Sucking or licking their toes, well, it just grosses me out. Painting is ok, I guess, and yes women's feet look better with some polish on them, but don't worry; I'm not getting anything close to a fetish about them. Plus, I abhor the smell of the polish and remover.

A final gross out for me is illustrated by my brother and sister-in-law who are golfers. They golf in golf sandals. They golf a lot. When they have their sandals off, they have raccoon feet. Spotted by their tans. Spotted in weird places on the tops of their feet. Yes, I used to wear golf sandals, too, and display some of the same characteristics, though I tanned from swimming, thus, my spots weren't as stark.

I know it's a tired joke, but it is still odd that our nose runs and our feet smell. But it's not any odder to me than someone who gets a kick out of feet.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE CHAIR?

Well, you need one. Everyone needs a favorite chair, "far away from the cold night air". Although it doesn't have to be enormous as the fair lady sings.

I don't think I'd much care for the one below the Motel sign in the picture. It's bright white. I like to eat in my favorite chair. I don't always hit my mouth. Our son at a recent Sunday brunch, taking after his Father, left an omelet cheese string on his shirt. When it was pointed out to him, he quickly responded by saying he was trying to duplicate the Star Trek logo. I'm afraid I've left a few logos on my shirts and subsequent arms of chairs over the years. So my fave would need to be darker or heavily patterned.

While I like the support of the chair in the picture and the huge cushion, it still looks too stiff to me. But like the Goldilocks story, it can't be too soft either. But most importantly, it can't be too long in the seat where I feel that my legs must stretch to get my feet to touch the ground. Long in the middle, I call it. Many couches are like that. Unless you're over 6 feet tall, they don't work.

My favorite chair sits in our living room and doesn't get used that much. Once in awhile, I'll read in there and it is a great reading chair complete with footstool unattached. If we have company, you can bet I'll be in that chair. But without a Bose or TV or VCR or DVD. our living room can only offer a fireplace (which we've never lit) and a great view.

But when I'm reading, old brown is ready. It conforms to my body. It knows my moods. It knows I'm not abusive. And it waits for its master.

CHANNEL ONE

WHEN I was still gainfully employed and living off the teaching dole, Channel One was introduced to our high school. Against an uproar by various teachers.

For the twelve minutes of daily news hosted by Anderson Cooper and Lisa Ling, there were two minutes of commercials. That seemed to cause a rash of complaints. That the school was selling out to advertisers.

For me it was a boon. I was equipped with a tv in my classroom which meant I didn't have to reserve one in the library, have two able bodied students carry it down a steep flight of stairs to my room. Return the tv when my time was up whether or not I might need it an additional day.

Plus, during my conference period, I could turn on a baseball game or check on a score between classes. Although not certain, I think each teacher also received a VCR in addition to the tv for the privilege of allowing Channel One in the classroom. So it all good for me.

At that time, even the left wing bias of Cooper and Ling didn't shine through. Maybe because they were young and upcoming, but I think that the media was much more fair back then than now.

So were I teaching today and Channel One offered the same deal including Anderson and Lisa, I'd have to be on the anti-Channel One side. Not because of commercials, though I detest them especially since they all seem to be shown at the same time now, ruining my advanced ability to channel surf and watch two shows or even three at once without the use of PIP.

I am totally against slanted reporting. Which used to be called yellow journalism. In today's media, I'd add canary before the first adjective. And start looking for the biggest guys in class to make that carry from the library.

I HAVE THE RIGHT

to be out of it. I mean I'm old. I've attained the age that if I am called home by the Lord today, people will say I lived a long life. No one will say, "But he was so young."

But still. Do I have to be out of it so much?

Today I clicked on Daily Celebrity Watch on my web site that I log on to. And this is what I got--Someones known (at least by some) as Alison Lohman and Justin Long. Never heard of them.

I continued and got others totally unknown to me including Zachary Levi, Estelle, Whitney Eve Port, Helene Christensen, Penn Badgley, Billy Zane, Hugh Dancy, Carla Gugino, and Christian de la Fuente.

Keep in mind their pictures accompanied their names. No bells. Not even a tinkle. Completely clueless whether they had only one name or three. Or even parts of four names.

And these were celebrities in the news. Not some bit player. Not some sidekick or B Movie star. Celebs.

Another constant that they shared was their age--all under thirty. A generational thing maybe? I doubt it. I bet others may age could recognize or identify some.

It's just me. I'd write some more about others I don't know, but there's a movie coming on that I haven't seen. It's relatively new. Citizen Kane, I think it is.