Trump talks a lot. A lot. He runs his mouth all day, every day. His piehole is an orificial factory pumping out incredible quotes like the Duggars pump out children. Even when you think he’s done for a while, another string of televised gold comes pouring out of his mouth, coating the world of social media with his word vomit much like I coated a 6th Street bar bathroom will actual vomit last Tuesday.
His latest claim is one that caught my attention, though. (I have a severe case of undiagnosed ADHD, so that isn’t an easy feat.) Mr. Trump now claims that if Bernie Sanders is elected president, we can kiss the game off golf goodbye. It’ll be gone from our lives. An absolutely unacceptable possibility.
This, of course, means much more will be lost than the game of golf itself. If the doors of our beloved country clubs close for good, that means no more tennis for grandpa, and no swim meets for little Donnie, either. Nobody with any sense will pay for what would essentially turn into an exclusive dining hall. If you’re looking for outrage, you’ve found a possible reason to rally.
I, for one, refuse to allow golf to scurry out of my life like every girl I’ve ever spoken to. My life has revolved around the game since my surprise early entry into this world. Come November 8, 2016, I’ll be voting for the man who keeps the game intact. The most visible sign of my privilege cannot disappear. Not a chance in hell..
[h/t CBS Sports]
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