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As always, the alarm went off at 4:45 AM, Mountain Standard Time. On my days off from work it is on so I can gloat that I don’t have to get up yet; and I also get richer dreams in the sleep-in phase. Today I slugabedded till 7:15, a full two and a half hours extra.

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Over oatmeal and coffee I did a Words With Friends “Solo Challenge,” my opponent not a human being but the software-engineered algorithm. These Challenges are like chess problems. For an “easy” opponent you will usually get juicy setups and be able to superscore your way to victory. But for a “hard” opponent you must have more words, and variants of typical words, at your command. In this case my opponent started with “Blawn.” I’d never heard that word–sounds to my perverted mind like the past participle of a verb describing a kinky exhibitionistic sexual practice done in a suburban neighborhood. (Sleep-saturation sends my dream-soaked mind down odd avenues.) But more to the point of winning this Challenge, how do I get a Triple Word Score on this crucial first move? If only “fecal” were six letters long–hey, it IS! all you have to do is parse out the æ from antiquity. The Brits still spell it that way…

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And so it went with me matching weird words with other weird words (who knew “jotty” was a thing??) and on to a satisying victory, with no bad aftertaste that occurs when I outscore a real-life Friend. (I never let anyone win. Ego? Egalitarianism? Entropic effectualness? Eitheror Eeyore way, it is often painful to stick to that policy.)

My next act of leisure was to noodle around with my latest work in progress, “P is for Petunia.” I filled in some background and snazzed up the “calligraphy” some. Later I’ll do a dilettante’s research on petunias for fun facts. They will go to the left of the drawing. But without them, the page is unbalanced. –Hey, Kids, let’s put on a Mashup Show! I took the ceramic “Chess Piece Series” Rook that my mother had kept on a living-room table for ten years or so, and positioned it so it would occlude the empty area. Bonus: the P of Petunia, which had seemed overly, cartoonishly off-kilter, now appears to be gravitationally drawn to the Rook, which gives him…Bad Pun drumroll, please…more Gravitas!! (Sorry not sorry for the Bad Pun.) Then I played with photoediting Andy Warhol style.

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And at 2:14 PM, Mountain Standard Time, my pals Phil, Jeff and Marty and I have a tee time at Palo Verde Municipal 9 Hole Golf Course, where Jeff will win, Marty and Phil will fight for second, and I won’t Suck, because I’m even below Suckitude, golf-wise. But it’s good to be out in the open air with my buds.

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I also spent a little time admiring the classic-artworks screen my mom so cleverly put together over 50 years ago. RIP Mom, and miss you, but glad your hurts are no more. Thank you for encouraging your artist son.

To make a long story slightly longer, this has been, and will continue to be, a gloriously lazy day. I am a luxuriating, lucky man to have these days every single week.

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At last there’s a payoff on the hours I have spent drawing and filling in checkerboard grids. A golf club and a spider’s legs require straight or near-straight lines in the drawing, and I now can draw them quickly and easily, up to a certain length.

This image is entirely faked. Nor golfer nor spider posed for me, and I didn’t do my usual internet image search to remind me of what what I want to draw looks like. I’m sure I’ve made egregious errors in both arachnoidal and human-golfer anatomy, but a) the dymanics of the drawing depend less on anatomical accuracy and more on pattern interplay, and b) the next time I see a spider, or a golfer, I’ll notice what I did wrong this time, and my future drawings of either or both will benefit.

The text on the image is very difficult to read. Here is a transcription:

Solitary critters, both, and two you daren’t bug
Pester either, you may turn a Nancy to a Sluggo
Irritation makes detractors wish they were unlawful
Destiny gave one a web and one a hat to doff
Expertise is gained with practice. Dancers at a barre
Rarely work as hard as they to bring things up to par

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As I type, it’s early Saturday morning, and third-round action of the 2013 Masters tournament has not yet begun. Presently, Tiger Woods is three under, tying him for 7th place. Everyone is focused on him for several reasons, among them 1) he’s been playing phenomenal golf lately, winning his most recent tournament, the Arnold Palmer Invitational, for which he (or, more accurately, his team) received more than a million dollars, plus a big emotional hug from Arnie (not his team–just him); 2) his recent reattainment of his #1 world ranking represents a years-long struggle in the wake of his marriage-ending contretemps with his now-former wife, Elin Nordegren, whose marriage settlement according to the New York Daily News was in excess of one hundred ten million dollars; 3) a shot to the green Mr. Woods made on the 15th hole yesterday was so good, it hit the flagstick, and then richocheted squarely backward, ending up in a pond and changing a probable birdie to a bogie–a bogie that could have been much worse but for incredible skill on the part of Mr. Woods.

If you’re not familiar with golf, much of the above is gibberish. Since Gibberish is the clandestine topic of this post, it’s appropriate that I dish out some.

Why Gibberish? Because Golf IS Gibberish, metaphorically speaking. It is a game in which a carefully-crafted ball is hammered repeatedly by carefully-crafted sticks wielded by imperfectly-crafted human beings, who strive, following rules that are convoluted beyond belief, to eventually roll the ball into eighteen different holes. A substantial portion of the world’s wealth is affected by this activity, directly or indirectly. Migration patterns and habitat changes are directly attributable to its environs. It is one awe-inspiring work of performance art that I would entitle THE ABSURDITY OF HUMAN BEINGS IN THE PERVERSION OF THEIR DRIVES, since even at my most serious I cannot resist a pun.

If there’s anyone still reading, thanks so much for your attention. Here are the words to the quadruple, two-pairs-of-allotropic-words acrostic:

Surf, silliness, & Realtors rake in the megabucks
To climb & claw atop a peak with Taurus near a cusp
Respondents take a helicopter canyon to arroyo
Or jet on to Hawaii for the LPBA tour
Persnickety flaccidity persists; now back to Curt

RIP Curt Gowdy, for whom I had both respect and (misplaced; I was young) amused contempt.