Synthesize This!: August 2013

The world is going to pot. The economy is built on a crumbling foundation. The social fabric is beyond repair. Our political system is an irredeemable mess. A rising tide of tiny children seems to be overwhelming adult society, making logical and compassionate living an impossibility. (That last one might just be a local phenomenon. Not sure. I don't get out much.) So, now I have finally figured out what most of you already knew: there is no point even trying to change the world anymore. So I have done what many demoralized males have done throughout history: watched streaming golf tournaments online, lots of them.

I'm not good at golf, nor do I think it is a particularly worthwhile endeavor. In fact, with an evaporating middle class and evaporating worldwide water supplies I am dubious about its future. Its best days are probably behind it. For now though, it will endure as the best way to gather all potential Cialis, Rolex, Lexus, and mutual fund customers in front of one channel.

Anyway, for some reason the other sports just aren't doing it for me anymore. So a new weekly rhythm has developed in my life.

- Monday - Is it Thursday yet?
- Tuesday - Is it Thursday yet?
- Wednesday - Is it Thursday yet?
- Thursday - Who's getting off to a good start in this week's tournament(s)?
- Friday - Who's gonna make the cut?
- Saturday - Network coverage! Let's gather 'round the TV kids. It's too sunny and pleasant to go outside anyway.
- Sunday - Let's watch the dramatic conclusion. I even borrowed an antenna so I could watch in HD.

These really are the thoughts that run through my head several times a day.

I have made feeble attempts to psychoanalyze Tiger Woods and some of the other golfers but I have "synthesized" nothing worthy of publication. But that's never stopped me before. So here are two of my syntheses.

This is almost precisely what my mind sees when someone says the word ham-fisted.

1) Phil Mickelson is the worst fist pumper ever. I find it astounding that one of the most finely tuned athletes on the planet makes gestures no more graceful than those of a wounded crow. This issue has not really been addressed online (you'll always find it here first!) so I couldn't find any montages of his atrocious fistwork and don't have the time to make my own. Usually he reminds me of a goofy computer programmer celebrating after debugging a new Fakeblock app. The gif at right is one of his better fistpumps and as you can see the drunk golf enthusiast in the front row has a much looser and more natural technique. However, if you care to see other examples you can watch last week's Open Championship highlights. His birdie putt on 14 (at 3:30) is followed by three fist pumps. The first is at least 6-8 inches up into the awkward zone. The second looks like an attempt to make up for the first. Lower yes, but really shaky at the end and honestly it looks like the motion a person would make who just completely lost his mind and decided to punch a five-year-old on top of his head. The last one is staid and sober, but looks a little arthritic. Take some more Enbrel, Lefty! And his dorky overhead double fistpumps after his birdie on 18 (at 5:30) are arrhythmic and cute, neither of which is a complement. They even show one in slow-mo so you can see his lumbering musculature vibrate and appreciate each of his lower teeth in full victory grimace.

I don't mean to be hard on Phil. Everybody loves him and I'm usually rooting for him too. It's probably because he looks just like your average shop teacher with big feet, a loping gait, a paunch, ham-fists, and somehow, inexplicably, a perfect golf swing and the best short game the world has ever seen. He's also always courteous and friendly with the gallery. I often think he is painfully self-conscious and perhaps "needs" the love from the crowd, but that's just my amateur psychoanalysis. Seriously though, he tipped his hat, nodded his head, and glanced furtively at the gallery at least 40 times on the way up to the 18th green to card his last birdie and claim his Claret Jug. I mean literally every 2 seconds. It stresses me out. Just chill Lefty. Everyone loves you already.

Anyway, Phil's and Tiger's golf skills may be about on par these days, but Tiger clearly stands alone as a fist pumper for the ages.

2) Some PGA golfers keep reminding me of actors. By the way, none of these even showed up on Golf Digest's doppelganger list. Anyway here are my top three golf doppelgangers. Honk if you agree.

Zack Johnson is...