Dick was an avid golfer. He was known much more, however, for his colorful language, than for his golfing abilities while on the links.

He was having a particularly bad round one Saturday afternoon. Almost every shot, if it wasn't in the woods, was in the sand, or in the water. If there was a hazard to be found, Dick managed to find it, and as the round went by, his frustration grew, and things just got worse.

As the bad shots grew in number, Dick's language, foul at the best of times, grew even more colorful. By the 18th hole, he was stringing them together that would impress even the most blastfimest of duffers.

At the clubhouse, following the round, a Pastor, who had been playing behind Dick and observing his behavoir for the entire eighteen holes said to him, "You know, the very best golfers who play the game are not addicted to the use of foul language, and never utter such language on the course."

"You knows Damn well they don't bye!!!" screamed Dick. "What the Hell do they have to curse about!?!?!?"