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Hi Bruce,
All is well with me & mine as, I hope it is with you and yours' !
I remarried in 2004 & relocated to my bride's area which is horse country
north of Toronto Canada...she and her whole family are equestrians of one ilk or another...I recently did Midsummer Night's Dream and played Bottom and in so doing
joined the equestrian ranks as an ASS !
I get down to California about once a year but my travels take me south to La Costa to be with my daughter and grandchildren...I touch base with Tom Bower, Harvey Fisher and Mike Belson periodically...but, believe it or not, frequently check into the weekly scores...
Living on a horse farm in rural Ontario, I am close to nature and surrounded by wonderful golf courses and lots of actor friends to play around with (haha) but one of the main things I miss is those special Thursdays with the Group !
I'm active politically with ACTRA in Canada and very busy acting (www.imdb.com)
I would love for you to give my best to all and hopefully, next time I'm down, I could
play around with the guys & gals of "Porters Putters" with, of course, alacrity !

With Much Affection for All,

Art

Reports say the event was a huge success, with neary a dry eye.

Alex's many friends will remember him for a long time to come!!

A Memorial Tribute is planned for Alex Sharp who passed away early Thursday March 6, 2008.

The "party" will be on Saturday March 29th between 11am & 4pm,
at the Sportsman's Lodge - 12825 Ventura Blvd., Studio City.

For directions, go to:
http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&q=sportsman's+lodge+studio+city&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wl

For more information regarding the event, please contact Dick Harwood by email at mardic@socal.rr.com or telephone at 818-231-8317 (C)

[Submitted by Cat Ballou]

Here are some new ones to add to your vocabulary.

• A "James Joyce" - a putt that's an impossible read.
• A "Rock Hudson" - it looked straight, but wasn't.
• A "Saddam Hussein" - from one bunker into another.
• A "Yasser Arafat" - butt ugly and in the sand.
• A "Rodney King" - over-clubbed.
• An "O.J. Simpson" - got away with it.
• A "Princess Grace" - should have used a driver.
• A "Princess Di" - shouldn't have used a driver.
• A "condom" - safe, but didn't feel very good.
• A "Rush Limbaugh" - a slice.
• A "Nancy Pelosi" - a hook.
• A "Teddy Kennedy" - goes in the water, but jumps out.

Submitted by Cat Ballou

For as long as the group has been in existence, we have maintained a 10AM tee time at all of our venues. Because many of the courses we play are in Ventura County (causing additional travel time), some members have expressed an interest in an earlier starting time, particularly in the winter months (Standard Daylight Time) - What do you think?

[I]

In my hand I hold a ball,
white and dimpled, rather small.
Oh, how bland it does appear,
this harmless looking little sphere.

By its size I could not guess,
the awesome strength it does possess.
But since I fell beneath its spell,
ive wandered through the fires of hell.

My life had not been quite the same,
since I chose to play this game.
It rules my mind for hours on end,
a fortune it has made me spend.

It has made me curse and cry,
I hate myself and want to die.
It promises me a thing called par,
if I can hit it straight and far.

To master such a tiny ball,
should not be very hard at all.
But my desires the ball refuses,
and it does exactly as it chooses.

With miles of grass on which to land,
it finds a tiny patch of sand.
Then has me offering up my soul,
if only it would find the hole.

It hooks and slices, dribbles and dies
or disappears before my eyes.
Often it will have a whim,
to hit a tree or take a swim.

It's made me whimper like a pup,
and swear that I will give it up.
And take a drink to ease my sorrow,
but the ball knows............
I'll be back tomorrow

Submitted by Cat Ballou

One day an Irishman who had been stranded on a deserted island
for over ten years, saw a speck on the horizon. He thought to himself,
"It's certainly not a ship." And, as the speck got closer and closer, he began
to rule out the possibilities of a small boat and even a raft. Suddenly there
emerged from the surf a wet-suited black clad figure.

Putting aside the scuba gear and the top of the wet suit, there stood a drop dead gorgeous blonde!
The glamorous blonde strode up to the stunned Irishman and said
to him, "Tell me, how long has it been since you've had a good cigar?"
 
"Ten years," replied the amazed Irishman.

With that, she reached over and unzipped a waterproof pocket on
the left sleeve of her wet suit and pulled out a package of fresh Cuban
cigars.  He takes one, lights it, and takes a long drag. "Faith and
begorrah," said the man, "that is so good I'd almost forgotten how great
a smoke can be!"
 
"And how long has it been since you've tasted the powers of good
Irish Whiskey?" asked the blonde.

Trembling, the castaway replied, "Ten years."

Hearing that, the blonde reaches over to her right sleeve, unzips
a pocket and removes a flask and hands it to him.
He opened the flask and took a long drink. "T'is nectar of the
gods!" stated the Irishman. ''Tis truly fantastic!!!"

At this point the gorgeous blonde started to slowly unzip the
long front of her wet suit, right down the middle. She looked at the
trembling man and asked, "And how long has it been since you've played
around?"

With tears in his eyes, the Irishman fell to his trembling knees
and sobbed, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Don't cha be tell'n me that you've
got a set of golf clubs in there, too!"  

A Catholic priest and a nun were taking a rare afternoon off and enjoying a round of golf.

The priest stepped up to the first tee and took a mighty swing. He missed the ball  entirely and said "Shit, I missed."

The good Sister told him to watch his language.

On his next swing, he missed again. "Shit, I missed."

"Father, I'm not going to play with you if you keep swearing," the nun said tartly.

The priest promised to do better and the round continued. On the 4th tee, he misses again. The usual comment followed.

Sister is really mad now and says, "Father John, God is going to strike you dead if you keep swearing like that."

On the next tee, Father John swings and misses again. "Shit, I missed."

A terrible rumble is heard and a gigantic bolt of lightning comes out of the sky and strikes Sister Marie dead in her tracks.

And from the sky comes a booming voice "Shit, I missed."

Submitted by Marty Lippman

The Pope met with his cardinals to discuss a proposal from the Prime Minister of Israel. "Your Holiness," said one of the Cardinals, "The Prime Minister wants to challenge you to a game of golf to show the friendship and ecumenical spirit shared by the Jewish and Catholic faiths."

The Pope thought it was a good idea, but he had never held a golf club in his hand. "Don't we have a cardinal to represent me?" he asked.

"None that plays golf very well," a cardinal replied. "But," he added, "there is a man named Jack Nicklaus, an American golfer who is a devout Catholic. We can offer to make him a Cardinal; then ask him to play as your personal representative. In addition to showing our spirit of cooperation, we'll also win the match." Everyone agreed it was a good idea. The call was made. Of course, Nicklaus was honored and agreed to play.

The day after the match, Nicklaus reported to the Vatican to inform the Pope of the result. "I have some good news and some bad news, Your Holiness," said the golfer.

"Tell me the good news first, Cardinal Nicklaus," said the Pope.

"Well, your Holiness, I don't like to brag, but even though I've played some pretty terrific rounds of golf in my life, this was the best I have ever played, by far. I must have been inspired from above. My drives were long and true, my irons were accurate and purposeful and my putting was perfect. With all due respect, my play was truly miraculous."

"There's bad news?" the Pope asked.

"Yes," Nicklaus sighed. "I lost to Rabbi Tiger Woods by three strokes."

Submitted by Cat Ballou

 

A young woman dressed in shorts had been taking golf lessons.  She had just started playing her first round of golf when she suffered a bee sting.  Her pain was so intense that she decided to return to the clubhouse for help ... and to complain.

Her golf pro saw her come into the clubhouse and asked, "Why are you back in so early?  What's wrong?"  "I was stung by a bee," she said.  "Where," he asked.  
"Between the first and second hole", she replied.

He nodded knowingly and said, "Then your stance is too wide."

Submitted by Marty Lipman