There used to be a titty bar on Cheshire Bridge Rd by the name of Masters. There is also a major championship in professional golf by the name of the Masters. Whether or not the golf tournament was named after the strip club is an oft debated topic in certain intellectual circles, but is actually irrelevant to the blog post at hand. It is what it is, and the particular details don’t really matter. Masters (the club) has long been closed, and now goes by the name Club Onyx. I have a friend, who’s name is definitely not Jake, who used to frequent the joint. But that’s a different story for a different time.

What’s relevant to this blog post are the photos sent in by a young buck by the name of Paul. Paul somehow worked his way into a round of golf at Augusta National Golf Club, the site of the annual Masters Tournament. What’s more, Paul managed to sneak a few Whynattes onto the course. Playing a round of golf at Augusta National is more difficult than finding an intern who can host a half-decent cage fight. Which is to say that we haven’t had a good cage fight at the office in ages. Why are kids these days so weak?

Aside from the lack of homeless people lurking in the bushes off the fairway, who will steal your ball and then try to sell it back to you, Augusta National looks similar to the local Candler Park Golf Course:

Woods? The name sounds familiar, but I can’t really place the name with a face: