"Everything is pretty much what it is"-Dan Jenkins

As we in Northwest Ohio await with baited breath (usually done with live squid or parts thereof) for the arrival of the rainy end of Hurricane Katrina, the plot thickens. While pursuing the agony of defeat in the form of the inner battle between golf implements and scorecards, I have managed to continue my mastery over the Sprout. On this very day, 8/30/05, after scorching the front nine at White Pines (of which there are many genuine trees present unlike Shady Oaks and some other places of little or no interest) in 38 and with the visions of finally breaking 80 for the first time this year, the wheels fell off with back-to-back doubles, 1 OB, 2 doing the backstroke and staggering in with 43 to hold off the charging Sprout by 1, I found no solace in the dead squirrel in the parking lot. As it was too early to get trashed and with the Red Cross beckoning, I did find a bit of comfort in the title of that immortal song, "My Give A Damn's Busted". The Sprout has yet to conquer my unyielding spirit (as has Spanish Nate of late) and I for one think it has to do with the burning question I pose to Nate and/or any other Spanish -knowing folk, "DOES the rain in Spain fall mainly on the plain?" or is that some secret Spanish -related code for treacle preparation? More to follow when the puzzle pieces escape the box.