Jump to content

Randy Wilson

Author/Contributor
  • Content Count

    1,185
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

53 Eagle

Profile Information

  • Club/Course/Company
    TurfNet Media Network / Rockbottum Country Club
  • Location
    Rabun County, GA

Recent Profile Visitors

2,286 profile views
  1. Thank you, Steve. I guess I should raise our bar a little--but I just can't.
  2. In this episode of Rockbottum Radio, RW seeks to avoid offensive discourse by installing a special Podcast Offensive Warning Device (POWD), which emits a BS alert when anything potentially offensive is emitted. The screen-free gang at Rockbottum CC receives the worst-ever Social Credit Score, forcing Momma to retain a Social Engineering Expert -- Horton Pantslow -- to bring Rockbottum CC into the modern era. A mandatory staff meeting after lunch ensues. The first lesson of Horton's seminar focused on working smarter not harder, raising the bar and seeing the course with new eyes while taking the course to the next level and doing more with less. The Rockbottum SCS is pushed into negative territory as a result. The meeting winds up with a serious discussion about Growing the Game and Global Worming...
  3. Now that the US Government has admitted UFOs are real, (See The Youtube, F-18 gun camera) I feel safe in pursuing the link between UFOs and golf. The photo below, taken two years ago on a golf course in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, by Rockbottum Dave, is unretouched. Dave was doing his Irrigation Tech thing, when he accidentally captured a shot of a UFO. (Is it “a” UFO or “an” UFO?) We featured this photo in a short film, but viewers assumed it was just more of our filmic trickery and ignored it. This time I want to be clear. UFOs ARE SOMEHOW LINKED TO GOLF COURSES. My astute scientific contention is that UFOs utilize golf courses for several reasons, the first being that in urban areas, golf courses are the last open spaces. They require such areas for discreet landing zones. This allows for easy abduction of humans to probe, specifically Night Watermen. Think about it. When was the last time you saw a Night Waterman? Why do you suppose the irrigation industry abandoned the more reliable and cost effective manual quick coupler systems for the outrageously complex and expensive automatic irrigation? Because all the Night Watermen vanished. The second factor is one of those “Unintended Consequences” that plague modern society. By constructing miles of buried #14ga. copper wire in strange geometric patterns—like those giant diagrams in South America only recognizable from high altitude—we accidentally built giant UFO antennas. These devices probably emit electromagnetic fields similar to the space alien’s landing zones back on Tralfamadore. As for my ownself, I have never seen a UFO. You’d think I would have seen one by now, given all the time I spent outside at night. Some have suggested I might have encountered an alien spacecraft and my mind was subsequently erased like a glitchy VHS tape. It’s certainly possible, because somebody erased the entire year following my high school graduation. I suspect that happened to at least a few of you, too. I have known a few people who saw a UFO. A famous golf course architect saw a UFO descend into a lake one night, when he was a teenager. (The Sixties, so . . . ) Then there was Riley, our mechanic back in 1970, who insisted he was abducted by space aliens. *NOTE: Riley is the fellow who provided me with Ludell’s voice and accent, but not the hair or mustache. (That came from Ken Mangum, circa 1974.) Riley was out drinking on the course late one night, when several balls of fire fell from the sky. He woke up the next morning in the bed of his truck, with his pants on backwards. I theorize he made up the part about the space aliens just to keep from getting fired, since his description of space aliens sounded a lot like Ray Walston, of My Favorite Martian. I thought I was being abducted once. I was night watering, racing my four-wheeler—with no lights*—across the golf course, trying to get to a drain valve before the system went Fukashima, when suddenly, a beam of light surrounded me. Normally, I considered myself invisible, but this was a spotlight attached to a police helo, apparently with thermo-infrared vision. I surmise they had a big laugh and then flew away, looking for another golf course. *In those days, it was standard procedure to run dark to avoid being robbed, not so much to avoid being probed by space aliens. I have excluded golfers from my sample group, as they have interesting UFO stories, but, well, they're golfers. (The constant fermented grain marination affects credibility.) If you would like to contribute to our research, email me at this secure email: Your name will be kept secret unless you insist otherwise. I would really like to know if anyone in TurfNet Land has ever seen a golf course UFO and to further motivate you, we’re offering prizes for the best golf course UFO tales! Third Prize is the last remaining copy of The Greens of Wrath, signed of course. NOTE: Brad Klein’s recent twitter comment that GOW reminded him of Jack Kerouac with a soundtrack by Commander Cody and the Lost Planet Airmen has effectively ended my writing career. Second Prize: Momma’s famed frying pan, autographed, with a dent that matches Buddy’s skull and First Prize will be a starring role in an upcoming Rockbottum Film. Don’t worry about revealing your identity. We can disguise you as Buddy.
  4. Steve, Overly observant folks like you make my job difficult.
  5. Brian Nettz, the Grand Poohbah of The Mystic Order of Greenkeepers, West Coast Division, ordered us to help with the latest Goose Situation.
  6. Thanks, Steve. And have no fear, the completely autonomous robots are almost here, guaranteed to show up for work . . . except they will probably be like Teslas and spontaneously catch fire.
  7. In this episode of Rockbottum Radio, RW reveals who is poaching our assistants, equipment techs and crew members, while explaining how to defeat the Mole People with careful use of the TurfNet Jobs board. In "Storytime" he tells about the time the Mole People almost got him. Also, Boof gets into it with Aint Feemy about her yoga pants, the gang provides a few tips to help determine whether your course is operating under Skeletal parameters or has just hit Rockbottum, and the Anti-Golf protest leader returns in his new role as local college golf coach. For your listening pleasure...
  8. KR, Back when I started, helmets were leather and optional and besides, I was climbing in that photo and as soon as I think of another excuse, I'll use that one, too. If I was a gifted time trialist like you, I would wear one of them George Jetson helmets. But I was just a sprinter and they are known for brain glitches.
  9. Paul, thanks for commenting, seeing as how you are a leading force in this area. Bryan, 25 years of training is pretty impressive. Hit me on the pm and tell me what kind of training you favor. Anil, "prana" sounds like something Dave Wilber would understand very well. I might be too simple-minded to grasp the Eastern ways.
  10. Not long ago, a group of some of the smartest folks in golf maintenance approached a powerful entity about presenting a class or a panel or a Ned Talk dealing with the mental pressures faced by the modern turf pro. I don’t know the backstory on this, but from what I surmised from a few tweets, it was received with a negative vibe. However, I do know that in Rockbottum CC Philosophy 201, a basic tenet states: “Insecure folks, when presented with a great idea, will often suppress it until they can find a way to make it look like it was their idea in the first place.” So, the choices are: Either be patient until the insecure entity in question can spin it their way or just go off and do it on your own. So, right here, right now, I intend to step into the fray and talk about brain chemistry and the link to depression. Before those of you with deep roots in academia and red tape begin to caterwaul, allow me to state that I am not a trained psychologist, nor do I play one on TV and I didn’t stay in a Holiday Inn last night... but I have successfully manipulated my brain chemistry without exogenous sources. There is a method that can work for a lot of people—not everyone—but I've seen amazing results in my own tiny brain and there are a number of recent studies that indicate this technique is worth a try. What am I talking about? Before I blurt it out and you stop reading, just hang with me for a few minutes. What many of us have suspected for decades just might be true: Exercise has a pronounced effect on brain chemistry. While exercise is typically tied to weight loss and heart health, it now appears that exercise has a minimal effect in that area when compared to diet. But the effect exercise has on brain function, especially on mood adjustment, is very significant. I was exposed to exercise and brain chemistry adjustment at an early age. Dad was a paratrooper and he ran every day. This was years before anyone heard of “jogging” and the family always noticed how much better Dad's mood was after his run. At that time, the civilian term for Dad was “exercise nut”, but it was normal behavior in the Airborne. Most of Dad’s colleagues used additional brain adjustments, mostly in the form of beer, but Dad stuck with running, swimming and isometric strength training. I hated endurance training in any form and avoided it like flu shots or algebra, but one day, while serving in the Army, I accidentally discovered the true miracle of exercise. In one unit, I was forced to show up at 0510 hrs—five days a week—and run five miles at a leisurely 7:00 minute pace. In a less hardened unit—okay, a cupcake unit—it was 0600 and four miles at an 8:00 minute pace. It didn’t matter which type of run, we always showed up angry, grumpy and sullenly uncooperative. I mumbled the same complaints, no matter the weather: “I can’t believe they’ve got us out here running in the ___ (cold, rain, snow, heat, dark--choose 3) just to satisfy some sadist.” At the end of the run, we always came in happy as hogs in mud, glowing with endorphins and filled with a sense of brotherhood, vowing to see everyone first thing the next morning. (Where we showed up and bitched for ten minutes.) I recognized a pattern here, but did nothing to alter my behavior. After the Army, I continued to self-medicate with endorphins, especially when faced with maintaining bentgrass in the Atlanta heat. This was in the days when the stress of running a golf course was beginning to ramp up, due to television, competition for golfer dollars amid the surge in golf construction--and an uptick in arrogant, newly rich golfer/members all thinking they were Thurston Howell the 7th. Mike, my brother and I, took up racing road bicycles to offset the stress that was building in our brains and it worked so well that we did it for many years. Some would say we did it for the competition, but when you only win one race in 30+ years, you ain’t doin’ it for the racing. Later, while working for a big municipality, I encountered additional stress generated by having to leave the course on Friday morning and spend the day in staff meetings and bureaucrat training, often with angry desk riders. In order to keep from joining in the melee and howling like everybody else, I made durn sure that I was soaked in brain opiates every Friday morning. This was accomplished by the Thursday night training ride, hammering along with the young racers until I exploded in a mist of lactic acid. Sometimes I just got to work very early on Friday and ruck-marched around the back nine with a 50 pound ruck--as fast as I could go. Then, I endured the bureaurat meetings while floating in a cloud of post-exercise brain chemicals, sometimes so blown out that I even bought doughnuts for the desk riders. (Not out of pity, more to jack up the intensity of the meeting, for entertainment’s sake.) One of the brain chemicals present at the meetings was cortisol, the "fight or flight" fuel. The big problem with cortisol was always getting rid of it. If the brain dumped it into the system and you didn’t fight or flee, then it remained in the system like some kind of toxic waste and that was a bad thing. There were days Buddy and I rode our bikes to work--40 miles one way--and on those days, nothing the golf course or the bureaurats could throw at us had any effect. Over the years, I taught myself as much as I could learn about exercise. I even took up coaching strength and conditioning for high school football and I saw the positive mental effects it had on young men. I was even able to coach young cyclists and devised a training program to help Buddy place in the World's Championship of 24hr Mountain Bike Endurance racing. After I switched to writing and producing films for TurfNet, I continued to use exercise as my primary mood altering chemistry. (The others don’t work for me—except maybe coffee.) There have been many times a column or a script has mired me down in frustration, but after a hard ride or a long hike or a trip to the gym, lo and behold, my elderly brain starts firing on both cylinders. (This particular column has required several trips to the weight room.) Again, I’m not a mental health pro, so don’t listen to me. But, for those of you who need scientific references, here’s a film on brain chemistry and depression: “How Exercise Treats Depression”: For those who prefer their science laced with quick cuts of The Simpsons, try this called: “Why Exercise is So Underrated” And for those who don’t want to hear any science talk, preferring just the Skeletal Wisdom of Rockbottum CC, maybe you could try indoor cycling, especially the kind that links up on the net to other riders. It's sort of like training while playing a video game.
  11. Noy, We've been working on that very thing, but it's an elf that sounds like Cheech.
  12. Great column, Paul. Enjoyed reading that. Your writing has a calmative effect, at least on me. I stopped watching Bob, maybe the late 80s, because he made me feel guilty for dropping so many "happy little trees".
  13. Fred, The iron application was fairly effective, not sure Hundman survived.
  14. And so it was, that in the last days of August, as the members became even more snippity and finicky and fickle, Rockbottum CC came to the rescue like . . . Batman. (1965 Batman, not the current Dark Knight--he's too much like a board member.) Because our mission, as it has always been, is to lighten it up and keep you from shoving a golfer’s head through the new sheetrock in the restroom on #4.
×
×
  • Create New...