Clown Shoes

Did you know there is a site on the web called clownshoes.com? You can’t find clown shoes there but you can sign up to go to shoemaker’s school and there is a link there that will take you to a web site where you can actually buy clown shoes. Since I am not one of those people who goes out looking for be bizarre websites like twoheadedcow.com or turkeydroppingsjewelry.com you well may ask how I found the clown shoes site. I will enlighten you.

I had been telling my brother for some time that if I was going to seriously get back into golf I needed to update my technology. I have always been somewhat of a purist when it comes to golf equipment, but over the past couple of years I noticed that I was giving up yardage. Especially off the tee. So for my birthday my brother sent me a new driver. He told me it had the largest legal head size and was made of space age materials so technologically advanced that NASA and the Department of Defense were using the same materials in some of their programs. OH Boy. I couldn’t wait.

My brother kept calling and asking me if the package had arrived. I assured him it had not. He could not understand why it was taking so long but when it finally showed up I found out the reason for the delay. Because of the size of this thing it had to have special permits for over the road shipping. It also had to have pre-clearance to come into the area from the County Sheriff’s Department as it is apparently on their list of potentially lethal weapons. Lord knows, in my hands that could be true.

And, like even the simple church key (manual can opener for those of you too young to remember soda and beer cans before the pop top) it came with a forty-two page book listing all the warnings regarding use of this golf club. Such as, do not use to retrieve kites trapped on high power lines, do not use to demonstrate sword swallowing to your children, and, do not use shaft end to un-stick a garbage disposal while it is turned on. Still, after reading the entire list of warnings, I remained undaunted and was determined to add the driver to my arsenal of links weaponry. There was, however, an implied consent clause included on a card attached to the driver. It stated by using this club I agreed that if I was playing or practicing within thirty miles of a commercial airport I had to call Air Traffic Control before teeing off so that they would not mistake my swinging of the club for a wildly out of control jumbo jet in their airspace.

I went out to the driving range and made sure that there was no one else around. I bought a bucket of balls and cleared myself with ATC at Okaloosa Regional Airport. I did a few stretches to limber up, pulled out the driver, and teed up the ball. I encountered my first problem. Sitting on a regular tee the ball was barely visible. In fact it looked like it was halfway down a mine shaft. I scrounged a downed tree limb (obviously missed in the post Hurricane Ivan cleanup) and whittled a 9 inch high peg out of that. Now that the ball was teed up at the proper height I was ready to go.

I took the club back slowly and my center of gravity shifted so much that I fell over backward. Jumping up quickly I looked around to make sure no one had seen my exploits, because I thought I had heard a voice yelling TIMMMM-BERRRR, as I was falling. As it turned out I was still alone. After practicing on how to maintain my balance on my backswing I addressed the ball, took the club back, paused at the top, and transitioned as beautifully as Jack Nicklaus or Tiger Woods to my downswing. Unfortunately I had neglected to consider the aerodynamics of the club moving at a speed more than two inches per second (understandable as the only BS I hold has nothing to do with science). The vacuum created by an object approximately the size of a VW Bug caused a vortex that literally sucked me after it - 14.5 feet out into the driving range - where I ended up flat on my face. Fortunately no one saw this episode either but I’m sure people out on the course noticed a stiff breeze rippling through the trees at that moment.

I packed up and went home. I remember calling my brother right after the club had been delivered to tell him I had received it and remarked on the size of the club head. He said, “Yeah, it’s big. If you’re gonna walk out to the first tee with a club that big you probably ought to be wearing clown shoes as well. Kinda divert their attention.”

So that’s how I came to find clownshoes.com. I’m pulling out the trusty old credit card and am going to place an order. After that I think I might look for clownclothes.com and clownmake-up.com. That way when I walk up to the first tee and the other guys say “look at this Bozo” I won’t be offended, and, no matter what happens on the course, the other people won’t know who I am unless they manage to get my plate number as I speed out of the parking lot.