Golfchannel, You've Got To Do Something

My old mother, born Pauline Jean McMullan, of Northern Irish stock, really had her Irish up tonight. I know everybody's a critic, and nobody hates like the Irish, but she was fit to be tied.

She said, "Somebody needs to talk to the Golfchannel."

When I asked her why, she went on to say, "When are they going to fire that beknighted son of a bitch?"

I said, " You mean, Nick Faldo?"

"That's the one." She replied. "And if I have to listen to one more of those lackeys that work with him call him Sir Nick..."

I laughed and told her I'd get ahold of the Golfchannel for her.

"And then I had to listen to that wannabe comedian, Gary McCord, nattering away. I thought they got rid of him." Granny said.

I told her they hadn't, it was only the Masters people who had fired his ass because of the bikini wax remark.

"He's a prick," Granny said. And, in her books, that's about as low as you can get.

Now, don't get me wrong. My old mother has a soft spot for Frank Nobilo. And she cried like a baby when Rory won his first Major. She loves Jack Nicklaus, too. But if she has to listen to the inane banter between McCord and Faldo for another four hours, she's going to have a coronary. Golfchannel, you've got to do something. Send in Frank, will you please.

Oh, and CNN, you better do something about that prick, Don Lemon. According to Granny, he's got to go as well.