bruises, shame and death. Thats why humans, especially the humans that have performed well in the process of natural selection, possess a special filter in the brain that suppresses the release of impractical, soft-headed screwball outbursts.
The unfortunate humans born without this special brain filter are subject to unending torment, often entirely as a result of something they blurted out in public, before previewing the words internally prior to actual vocalization.
To see an example of individuals operating without brain filters, watch a few minutes of Jerry Springer, WipeOut, C-Span or coverage of any campaign debate.
Because close proximity to golf can permanently damage the filters ability to suppress idiotic statements, I began to collect, as far back as 1967, idiotic statements made by and directed toward golf course employees. I later assigned these illogical, poorly planned vocal outbursts a code name: The Inner Doofus Quote, or IDQ.
In the golf industry, it is impossible to avoid contact with IDQs. Club pros are especially susceptible to IDQ exposure, as the job requires close interaction with golfers. General managers suffer from IDQ assault, equipment operators wearing ear plugs on a roaring fairway unit are forced to listen to IDQs even club lifeguards are victimized, sometimes while underwater. IDQs spew forth from the mouths of formerly normal people that have had their special brain filter temporarily paralyzed by either living beside a fairway, playing on a fairway or simply operating a golf course.
Im reluctant to admit it, but even those of us that work on a golf course are not immune to the tendency to spout something really stupid. I have a notebook filled with my very own IDQsbut I managed to turn my Inner Doofus into a career.
My IDQ collection is maintained in list form: The Top Ten All Time IDQs ever blurted out by soft-brained golf folks. The list remained stable for years, because its been hard to top #1, where the young virginal GM told the veteran superintendent remain quiet, dont ask questions, your job is to just mow, grow and repeat.
Or #2: The new Director of Golf, freshly retired from life on tour, summoned me to his office in a panic, eyes glistening with emotion and shrieked, All that fertilizer you put out! You didnt water it in! Oh, my God, youre burning up the whole course! His posse of fat old men backed him up, nodding and mumbling like extras in a Mel Brooks western while I tried to explain the difference between lime and ammonium nitrate.
Then, last month, my list was thrown into chaos when a superintendent Ive known for 30 years (well call him Fred) told me how his job was terminated with a potential #1 IDQ. The course owner, in a very strong middle-eastern accent, said I am closing the golf course! You are fired! Yes, I know this will cost me much money, but I must punish the people in this village!
A few days later, Fred called from the parking lot of a downwardly mobile golf facility and informed me that he had just completed a job interview where the IDQs poured forth like bats from a cave. I realized something ominous was happening . . . a mysterious unseen force had triggered an outbreak of Inner Doofusness . . . and it was up to me to get the warning out.
DMGF Owner Guy began with: Fred, I dont believe in superintendents. I just quiz all the salesmen. Its in their best interest to tell me the right thing to do.
Fred nodded while thinking, Yeah, if the sales rep is somebody like Randy Nichols. What if its somebody like that guy in Office Space that lost his stapler?
Owner Guy wasnt through. It will just be you because crews are unnecessary if the correct growth retardant is used. Fred nodded again and glanced nervously around the room. This isnt real. I bet Ive been lured into another segment of The Randy Wilson Show. Wheres the camera hidden?
Then Owner Guy leaned toward Fred and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, I bet if we sprayed one of those Chinese cantaloupe growth regulators at about 25 times the label rate we wouldnt have to mow all summer. Yeah, it might turn purple, but . . . you know what Im saying, right?
Fred nodded again. Okay, this is the part where he puts on his mask and cranks a chain saw . . . I just have to outrun him to the parking lot.
Yet, my IDQ collection pales in comparison to comments our neighbors, the fairway homeowners, fail to filter.
*Note: Several of the IDQs in the following video were data mined from the TurfNet Forum.