Introduction

The "Hotel Melanoma" moniker is a metaphor for living with my particular brand of cancer. Except for those lucky few of us deemed "cured", all we cancer survivors are guests of one of the many, many branded hotels in the "Hotel Carcinoma" chain. We can check out any time we like, but we can never leave. Meanwhile, let's be livin' it up; and please support cancer education, prevention, and treatment research.



Tutu Brothers

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Mulligans



I got myself out on the links today for my first nine holes of Geezer Golf of the season. My rusty game wasn’t pretty; and at my age and worn physical state it likely isn’t going to get much shinier. Mulligans were taken, lies were improved, and a score wasn’t kept. But I had fun and, thanks to some sunscreen and SPF 50 golf duds, my post-game skin tone doesn’t match this golf ball.

For those readers who have the good sense not to play golf, a mulligan is a second chance to better perform an action—specifically, a stroke that is replayed from the spot of the previous stroke without penalty, due to an errant shot made on the previous stroke. Although mulligans are prohibited under the official rules of golf promulgated by the nitpicking Nazis who rule the United States Golf Association, they make the game a lot faster and more enjoyable for us hopelessly high handicappers who just play for fun, fellowship and fresh air. And wouldn’t it be nice to get a mulligan on some of the ‘errant shots’ we’ve made in life, like failing to protect our skin prior to checking into The Hotel Melanoma?

Until next time, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Def Leppard’s “Animal”…



A wild ride, over bogey ground
Such a lust for slice, the surplus sums each round
We are the spunky ones, on a fright’ning fade
Just like a river runs, like a fire needs flame
Oh, I yearn for youth

I gotta screen skin with my duds, whoa, oh
I need more touch don't need more sun, whoa, oh
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible

I try golf, drive some out of bounds
I’m improvin' hardly, in the witching hour
I'm stunnin' with the sticks, Nick Faldo is nonplussed
And yikes the drivin' pain, hey, yikes the endless rust
I better cheat

I gotta screen skin with my duds, whoa, oh
I need more touch don't need more sun, whoa, oh
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible

Huh! Oh! Try golf baby, try golf
Gonna stunt you like man, uh, uh, fallible
Gonna take your bucks n' run

I gotta screen skin with my duds, whoa, oh
I need more touch don't need more sun, whoa, oh
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible

And I want
(And I want)
And I need
(And I need)
And I’m just
(And I’m just)
Fallible
(Fallible)

And I want
(Save me)
And I need
(Save me)
And I’m just
(Save me)
Fallible
(So fallible)

And I want
(Show me)
And I need
(Stroke free)
And I’m just
(Let me be more)
Fallible
(Fallible)

And I want
(I want)
And I need
(Ooh, ooh, ooh)
And I’m just
Fallible
(Fallible)

1 comment:

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