Yelling ‘Dilly Dilly’ Gets You Thrown Right Out of The Masters
According to the Huffington Post, shouting the famous Bud Light joke at Augusta during the Masters will get you removed from the property. If you are not familiar with the "Dilly Dilly" ads, they go something like this:
This comes as no surprise to anyone who knows anything about Augusta or The Masters. The Masters is the crown jewel in golf — a world with an embarrassment of riches in the crown jewel department. Augusta is the course where The Masters is held, and this place is stuffed shirt city.
Fun facts about Augusta:
- The first African-American man to EVER play there was Robert Lee Elder in 1975.
- The first African-American member was not admitted until 1990. His name is Ron Townsend. (Notice the 15-year gap between the first black player and the first black member. They are super progressive.)
- The first female members were not admitted until 2012! That's not a typo. They are Condoleeza Rice and Darla Moore.
- Concessions at Augusta are stupid cheap. An egg salad sandwich is said to run you $1.50, Ham and cheese on rye is 2.50. The most expensive item is an import beer, which is five bucks. The rich get richer — How bout 'dat? The people who can afford an $18 beer and a $12 sandwich are lunching like it's 1983.
- They don't allow phones. You cannot bring them, and the rule does apply to PGA tour players.
- There is no running at Augusta. Spectators who run to the next hole to get a good spot to see their favorite player are ejected.
- Becoming a member is nearly impossible. You have to be nominated, and still, most nominations are rejected. They do this so they can keep their membership right around 300 persons. So not only must you be nominated, then you have to be approved, and wait for someone to die, because no one quits. You don't believe me when I say it's hard? Ask Bill Gates, he was kept out for years for publicly lobbying to become a member. The Augusta folks, apparently, are not big fans of people desperately wanting to play their course. Eventually, Gates was granted membership in 2002. Revolutionizing how Planet Earth works apparently has its privileges.
- No Autographs, no backward hats, no this, no that, you get it.
Rules out the ass is what golf is about, and no one does rules better than Augusta and the Masters. I have to tell you, it sounds like a blast. These rules, hoops to jump through, and the extreme judgement all sound like a real good time. God forbid you get a Caesar salad stain on your goofy golf pants. What would they do? Maybe public floggings?
My very complicated thoughts on Golf (general):
- I hated it for a long time, I'll come back to that.
- I like playing again. I went last year for the first time in a long time. I golfed with a few guys I like, had some beers, lost some golf balls, and got out in the sun for a few hours.
- Golf is a game of skill, not a sport. Golf is what people play when their bodies don't allow them to play sports anymore. In sports, there is a danger of you bleeding or sweating profusely. Running in sports is not against the rules, it is the rules. You run or you are asked to leave the field of play. You cannot wear your Sunday best while playing sports. No one plays basketball in khaki's and yellow Polo. Golf gets away with murder calling itself a sport. I cannot think of another "real" sport wear dudes play professionally into their 60's.
- It's the most popular, exclusionary activity in our country. The game, the locations, the rules and the cost are designed to keep people out.
- A majority of golfers are douches. What would you expect? You have a group of people who want to spend a majority of their time in stuffy clothes making up and adhering to rules. I worked at a private course in Westchester, NY many years ago. It was an eye opening experience. I learned that rich old men talk terribly about people who are not rich old men. I also learned they CONSTANTLY lie about sexual conquests.
It may come as no surprise to you that my favorite golfer of all time is a foul mouthed, beer slamming, chain smoking lunatic named John Daly. He's the closest we have ever come to a real life Billy Madison. The game needs another like him to invade the halls of power, disrupt the norm and make a lot of "comfy" people really uncomfortable.
Enjoy the Masters everyone, I will. It will serve as the backdrop for my afternoon nap. Nothing says sleepy time like people whispering while watching dudes hit a white ball around some green grass.
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