Golf Course Jerks

Bad members

Chad, shoot one across their bow. Let’s see if that gets their attention.

Meet Thad, Chad and Preston – longtime members of the golf course. They are well-heeled, over-egoed, lubricated with alcohol and lousy sports. Their threesome is always pushing your foursome despite the fact your foursome is playing great golf  — well within the established time frame for the course. Thad, Chad and Preston try to pressure your foursome with disgusted looks on their faces and sotto voce comments as they wait for you to tee off – despite the fact they are still trying putt their own green. They will send the course ranger over to push you along or order you to step aside while they play through. The ranger is unhappy too. His son works for Thad’s company. One day Thad, Chad and Preston will try to push Saint Peter’s foursome. On that day they will go to hell and each will be forced for eternity to play a public course with a one iron and an old putter from Sears-Roebuck.

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Emerson Plugknutts

Emerson annoys at one half mile an hour faster

Allegro Non Troppo (fast but not too fast)

It may be said these days that every motorist is a jerk. Those who drive faster than we do are idiots and everyone who drives slower is a jackass. However, there is a special class of jerky motorists who are particularly vexing. Take Emerson Plugnutts for example. He sets his cruise control, stays in the left lane of the Interstate and ignores the world around him. He is the jerk who passes you doing only one quarter of one mile an hour faster than you are going. Slowly, slowly he advances but refuses to increase his speed even as the line of cars and trucks build up behind both your vehicle and his. Once he eventually passes, the angry drivers to his rear weave in and out of traffic to pass Emerson on the right and get ahead of the pack – each gesturing their displeasure to Emerson with various hand signals. Emerson ignores them and continues his selfish pattern. Best advice: slow down and let Emerson pass you and hope he eventually pulls this crap on a State Trooper who has had a bad day.

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Walter Palmer, DDS

Cecil bags a dentist

Payback’s a bitch

This Minnesota dentist drilled right into a nerve when he shot Zimbabwe’s pet lion, Cecil, with a bow and arrow and then tracked it for 40 hours before finishing the cat off with gunfire. Hunting has a long tradition in the United States going back to when it was necessary to put meat on the table.  Many wildlife experts say it remains a useful tool for controlling overpopulation of deer and other species. But shooting Cecil is the equivalent of paying the small-town drunk ten bucks to shoot a cow in someone else’s pasture. It is like gunning down the neighbor’s cocker spaniel and then beheading and skinning it. Palmer had previously peeved the wildlife folks in Wisconsin for the illegal shooting of a black bear. By the way, Minnesota Board of Dentistry records show Palmer faced a sexual harassment complaint a few years ago. Palmer admitted no wrongdoing but had to pay a former receptionist more than $127,000. That’s twice what he paid to shoot Cecil. With his practice shrinking like a dead lion’s hide in the hot African sun, we think this jerk needs new, less expensive hobbies.

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Pete Ricketts

Giblets to go

Lex Luthor redefines “Nebraska Nice”

Nebraska’s new governor has been so busy shopping for drugs to kill prisoners on death row that he failed to notice when the state’s legislature — controlled by his own Republican Party by 35 to 14 — voted to abolish the death penalty in the Cornhusker State. He was so angered that he also failed to note his conservative colleagues argument that it is illogical to be pro-life for some issues and pro-death on others. In this peevish mood, Governor Ricketts has vowed to kill all ten prisoners on Nebraska’s death row. His Attorney General, Doug Peterson, backs him up, saying that abolishing the death penalty has basically deprived the death row inmates of their constitutional right to die. If Ricketts gets his way, perhaps he can give the ten inmates their last supper at the same time. He can haul the old, unused, electric chair — “Old Sparky” — out of retirement, hook the electrodes to a large turkey, pull the switch and allow it to explode — instantly serving white meat, dark meat and viscera to all the guests in their festive orange attire.

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Tom Brady

Deflated balls

Tom, not so Terrific

The New England Patriot’s quarterback has not been enshrined on these hallowed pages for breaking the rules concerning the proper pressure for footballs. After all, rule breaking in professional sports has become as constant as the Northern Star. He has not been elevated to the lofty title of Despicable Jerk because he lied to everyone about his knowledge of the deflation. Denial is the default defense and typical behavior for many privileged folk in all walks of life. Tom’s image appears here because he has once again elevated the inevitable testicle-joke headlines to a frantic level not seen since the height of the steroid scandal. Note: the use of steroids has been proven to deflate balls as effectively as pro football staffers with the title “Deflater” – and yes, we mean testicles.

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Britt McHenry

Britt accosts clerk trying to get car out of impound

Media mean girl

The patron saint of Despicable Jerks is Alice Roosevelt Longworth – Teddy’s daughter – who famously said, “If you haven’t got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me.”  Alice would have loved Britt McHenry, the ESPN reporter suspended for a week for insulting a tow truck clerk. If Britt could join Alice for tea today she might have opened the conversation by saying, “lose some weight baby girl.” Perhaps Britt would find the restaurant serving the tea to be wanting and say to the waitress, “I’m in the news, sweetheart. I will fucking sue this place.” Instead of leaving a tip, Britt might offer this advice to the waitress: “I have a degree and you don’t. I wouldn’t work at a scumbag place like this. Makes my skin crawl even being here. Maybe if I was missing some teeth they would hire me, huh?” One might have hoped that sometime during Britt’s career at ESPN she had discovered something John Wooden said. “Sports don’t build character. They reveal it.”

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The Keystone Secret Service

SS agents always vigilant

From comedy to farce

Like the Keystone Cops of the silent film comedies, the United States Secret Service has at long last become a “Laff-Riot.” First there was the whore employment scandal in Columbia. Then came the incidents of maniacs jumping the White House fence, with one jumper making it to the unlocked front door and inside the mansion for a special face-on-the-floor tour of the East Room. And who can forget the night two hard-drinking agents nudged a barrier aside with their SUV to enter a crime scene near the White House – apparently to lend some boozy expertise. Now comes Tax Day, April 15th 2015, and a nut case mailman from Tampa Bay, Florida, who flew his gyrocopter through some of the (theoretically) most protected airspace in the world to land on the lawn of the Capitol Building with a fist full of protest letters. The guy even talked to the Tampa Bay Times about his trip and the paper called the Secret Service to report the crazy mailman. But the warning was apparently ignored or shelved by Chief Inspector Doofus. It’s a good thing the gyrocopter jockey was a fairly benign crank. The next guy might not be nice enough to call the local daily and might deliver something more troubling than photo-copied complaints about campaign financing.

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