Largo, Florida—An unidentified white woman complained about the chill she was hoping to survive from the modest Florida breeze when she exited the heated pool at the Glenwood condominium complex. 

The complaint was lodged in a friendly, small talk type of way to a group of brothers drinking beer at a table near the pool after she took off her gauzy cotton robe and entered the water. The brothers, who were from Buffalo, NY had just returned to the complex after enjoying a round of golf on a beautiful, sun-kissed-breezy-eighty-degree Florida day. Engaged, as usual, in a squabble over handicaps and scores, the brothers smiled back and agreed that there certainly was a little nip on the air. The brother who lived in the complex looked at his siblings and quietly said, “There’s no crying on the yacht,” which got a big laugh.  

Two older white women already in the pool were having an in-depth conversation about the best walkers for the money and other ambulation issues. A second group of three white women also in the pool were speaking in whispers and throwing extreme eye rolls in the direction of the two women discussing the walkers. One of the women mouthed, “Imagine if they were incontinent.” And, then the three women broke into an extreme fit of laughter.

A group of pasty shirtless white men in wide brimmed camo colored sun hats and baseball caps sat within earshot of the brothers. They were talking about how Mike Bloomberg would be the one Democrat they could support for President if he wasn’t so goddamn anti-2nd Amendment. After a while the men in the camo hats and their sagging white skin came over to the brothers and said hello. The brother who lived in the complex introduced his siblings and once they dispensed with the bad Buffalo weather jokes one of the brothers said Bloomberg wasn’t anti-2nd Amendment, he was just for gun safety and background checks. This comment was met with a steely, awkward silence, which the brother who lived in the complex eventually responded to by saying, “Shut up.” He then turned to the camo guys and said, “His head is still frozen.”

When the white camo guys dispersed after a few more awkward moments the brother who lived in the complex looked at his sibling who tried to explain Bloomberg’s position on guns and said, “How fucking stupid are you? This is Florida. Don’t ever talk guns unless it’s about more access or making them more lethal. Everybody here is a fucking cowboy, you dumbass.” 

Just then the unidentified white woman exited the pool and moved at an accelerated pace, “whoo wooing” as she went. With a series of deft movements she was able get her robe back on before being overwhelmed by the modest breeze.

Looking at the brothers she said, “Boy, that air will chill you to the bone!”      

The post Unidentified White Women Complains About Modest Florida Breeze appeared first on buffalomud.com.

Before the round at Bardmoor Golf Club, long time friend Alvin Gryffindor generously passed out cigars to the group of twelve golfers and instead of quietly accepting the tobacco novelty Kane took the opportunity to rail on his brothers and friends as a bunch of elitist, white, middle management assholes. Fixing his gaze on the group dressed in their brightly colored golf shirts with their oversized drivers Kane said, “Look at all of you sucking on those cigars without even a thought for the Cuban migrant working twelve hour days for pennies so you can reassert your unearned white privilege. You make me sick.”

This opening salvo from Kane was met with eye rolls and rejoinders from his brothers telling him they had something for him to “suck on” and he should “shut the fuck up” or they were going to call his wife to set him straight.

Realizing he was bringing down the entire event Kane was able to remain quiet for a time, but after losing a nine dollar push on the sixth hole he began complain about the need to wager.  “Why do we have to always measure ourselves in competition and try to exert our dominance? Are these dick measuring contests really necessary? Can’t we just enjoy this beautiful day and the fellowship of friends and sport for the sake of sport?” And, then looking around he said, “I know all of you guys and there’s no shame in having a tiny penis. Really—it’s okay. Cast aside this never ending, soul crushing capitalistic need for competition and let us just be men enjoying men. ”

Gryffindor and their other friend Francis Paramecci, who had sort of lost touch with Kane in recent years and were reuniting for this golf weekend looked at him with certain amount of confusion. Seeing this confusion Kane’s younger brother Mike said, “Sorry, since he’s become the 1.5 millionth most popular ranked author on Amazon he tends to be an insufferable ninnie.” The younger Kane then turned to his brother and again said, “Hey P.A., shut-the-fuck-up—you stupid tosser.”

Kane was able to remain relatively quiet for long stretches and mostly made indistinct guttural sounds to himself, but at the fifteenth hole he gave the golf cart girl an earful about Florida’s recycling policy as they just threw can after can of empty beer into the garbage. The girl told Kane, “I’m twenty years old and my job is to smile and get a big tip from you, not make environmental policy. Two Buds and two Coors Lights—that’ll be $16 and no, I don’t have change for a twenty,” she said with a broad grin taking his money.

Kane was able to keep his powder dry for the remainder of the round, but sitting outside with a beer as they tallied up the scores and bets he again lost it. His brother Peter turned up the volume on the loop of U2 songs he had playing the entire round. “Oh my god, how can you listen to this horrific dad-rock-bullshit. Every fucking song is the same shit about reaching for the fucking heavens and finding your higher self. Over and over and over they never find what they’re looking for and it sucks. Preachy anthems from self-aggrandizing Irish zillionaires who live in castles don’t inform or enlighten anything. How can you not see that? It sucks.”  

Sweating profusely after this rant Kane excused himself to use the restroom. While he was gone everyone quickly got in their cars and left, forcing him to Uber it home.

The scene repeated itself the next day as Kane lectured on the New Green Deal, the continuing relevance of Bob Dylan and the proper way to enter and exit a golf cart, thus wrecking a second sunny, warm Florida golf day.

The group again ditched him when he went to the restroom after the round.         

The post Local Author Wrecks Golf Weekend appeared first on buffalomud.com.