The Last WordIssue #490 July 2015

Golf course still a royal disappointmentI find it hard to believe its been 18 years since I went on

a trip to Chicago and was confronted by a ridiculous miniaturegolf course called Par-King Riverside Fairor as I call it, Par-King Riverside Unfair. Anyone born at the time that thiscelebrated incident occurred is grown now. Time flies!

Were working-class people, and we all busted our assesto be able to go on that trip. Inexplicably, however, a familymember insisted one evening that we all go play miniature golfwhich made no sense, because there were miniature golfcourses all over the place back home. Its like on our VirginiaBeach trip when they just wanted to sit in the motel room andwatch TV. (On the other hand, it poured down rain most of thetime we were in Virginia Beachbut we could have at leastfound something interesting there besides going to the mall andgetting our tires slashed.)

Long story short: We got kicked out of Par-King. Longstory longer: We protested this snub by visiting a nearby Dennysrestaurant and publicly bubbling. No, not the gum kind ofbubbling. We blew bubbles in our sodas through the straws untilthe beverage rose to the top of the cup and streamed down thesides.

To repeat, this wasnt the gum kind of bubbling. Nobubble gum was blown. Rather, it was the hilarious drinkingstraw kind of bubbling.

While we bubbled, we tried thinking of ingenious waysto fight the absolute monarchy of Par-King. You have to considerthough that this was 1997, and for most people back then,thinking outside the box usually meant wearing a blue polo shirtinstead of gray. Sofor lack of a better ideawe kept bubbling.

That must have been the bubbling heard around theworld, becausealthough Par-King is still arounditsattracting more public criticism than ever. I had thought Par-Kinghad gone out of business a few years ago, but we werent solucky. All they did was drop the Riverside Fair name from theirwebsite. These days, the course is under critique for its policy ofnot admitting kids under 4 feet tall. This policy is of coursepreposterous, because I remember going to a different miniaturegolf course long before I attained that stature.

One reviewer on a review website said...

Height requirement basically rules out 6 year olds and below. Interesting that family wasthe first tab on their website...cause I would submit you have to hate children to do what theydid to my family AND the family behind me in line this past weekend. We both left with cryingchildren. The family behind me had 1 child that was short by less than an inch. Turned away.Very nice. Hey...at least they were rude about it...

Now, the thing about this is that all of us were well older than 6 when we encountered Par-King. Justbecause we blew bubbles in our soft drinks at Dennys doesnt mean we were under 6. All it means is that wewere cool. I guess Par-King disdains us coolsters just as much as children.

A reviewer on Facebook said...

Our son can ride the Space Mountain roller coaster in Disneyland, he can ride the Beastroller coaster at Six Flags and can play a real par 3 golf course but cant play miniature golf atPar King. Thanks for disappointing kids everywhere.

Par-King replied with a stock response saying that this rule was put in place for insurance reasons. Howcorny. Notice also that I say the reply was from the golf course itselfnot from a person employed by it. Likeother large businesses, its a faceless enterprise capable of producing nothing more than robotic responses.

A would-be Par-King customer on another review site said they drove for miles only to discover thecourse was closed because some Really Important People had rented the place. Another said, Hope they go outof business so reasonable owners and management would take over. Regarding the height requirement, anothermockingly opined, This must be one dangerous miniature golf course. Still another declared, Ive never seenmore little children cry at a miniature golf course than I have at this place. This has reportedly been going onsince at least 1975! 1975!!!

If my brain could crap its pants at being treated so shabbily at Par-King, it would have.Our 97 Chicago trip was also when we saw Sun Myung Moon and his bodyguards in an elevator. At least

we think it was Sun Myung Moon. A family member agreed. But this isnt absolutely confirmed, unlike myconfirmed sighting of the equally right-wing Westbozo entourage at Occupy the Super Bowl in Indianapolis in2012. I captured this photo of the Westboroists (with bystanders faces fuzzed out)...

Another photo...

I also noticed that Westboro was protesting against Occupy more so than the Super Bowlwhich showshow influential Occupy can be when it wants to. Occupy in 2012 was better than the wussified mess it is todaythat doesnt fight for anything. Now theyre too chicken to fight.

As for Par-King, that facility gave off a strong, fart-like whiff of elitism. Par-King was a bit like a snootyrecord shop in Connecticut that I read about that refused to stock angry records. I dont think Par-King actuallyuses the height requirement as a measure of safety. I think they try using it as an indicator of maturitywhich ismuch more subjective. I know families in which the childrenwho are no older than preschool agebehave in amuch more mature manner than the parents. I know many adults who are greedy, wasteful, and obnoxious (as my5th grade teacher would say). They make real spectacles of themselves (as my 5 th grade teacher would also say). Inthe topsy-turvy world of the minigolf monarch, that seems to be acceptable.

People wiped their butts with poison ivy at Big Bone

Since a miniature golf course bans 6-year-olds, maybe Big Bone Lick State Park should require everyoneto have their butt amputated before visiting. It makes about as much sensei.e., none.

As many of you know, Big Bone is a nice little park not far from here in northern Kentucky. It calls itselfthe birthplace of American paleontology. Im not sure what that means. I remember once in 5 th grade, somereally smart kid said they wanted to become a paleontologist, but I never really looked into what that meant.

But Id say it was probably around 2nd grade when a really cool kid did something really cool. We went ona school field trip to Big Bone, and this really cool kid wiped his ass with poison ivy.

I know this, because that really cool kid was me. Right when we got to Big Bone, I had to desperatelydrop a deuce. So a teacher recommended that I go in the woods.

However, the woods was out of toilet paper. But I detected a small, green plant among the vegetation. Itwasnt Gatewood Galbraiths favorite herb. Rather, it was poison ivy!

Now, I knew I wasnt allergic to poison ivy, so I scooped up a handful of the leaves and started goin totown. When I was done, I simply deposited the feces-caked leaves on the groundlike other animals whopeopled the park (and other people who animaled the park).

I was worried that the poison ivy leaves didnt adequately do the job. I carted around a few extra leaves inmy underpants just in case. And, for the rest of the day, I had to be careful when I sat down. I sat at sort of anangle. Like most other cool people, I didnt want poo traveling into my drawers. Sometime later, when my momdid the laundry, she angrily asked me why there were leaves in my underwear. But at least I avoided the far moreembarrassing specter of poopy trousers. Best all, I never suffered a reaction from the ivy.

Soiling oneself loomed large in those days. Im pretty sure it was also in 2nd grade that the teacherseemingly out of the clear blueasked a student, Did you pee your pants? This question remains unansweredafter 35 years. Maybe a paleontologist will someday figure it out.

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