America - Happy 235th

Well, inasmuch as my 62nd was celebrated far and wide, I would be remiss were I not to be vocal about America's birthday, as well. So, here goes: with regards to holidays, I previously vented on the unpleasantness of too much noise (e.g. New Year's Eve); that said, combine the big bangs with sky rockets, bright exploding colors and a symphony orchestra belting out patriotic songs, and viola, the Fourth of July tops the Charts.

Taking a short detour from my Paul Revere Calling, I turn to Sports for insight into the human condition in having attended the ATT National PGA Golf Tourney yesterday, with my bud, Kevin of Sowter. Kevin of Sowter even consumed a bud or three there.

Regrettably, PGA tour has become like federal government - bloated beyond all reasonable needs for mission accomplishment. Saw at least 24 PGA Staff Mercedes SUVs and Mini-Vans parked in disparate Course locations, yet most of the actual work at this tourney was performed by unpaid volunteers, so happy to be inside the ropes, up close to the rich, spoiled celebs. Can't knock the marketing genius who sold these folks on this "pro bono public service" to gazillionaires. Oh well, at least the PGA hordes there - paid to look and act important - did their jobs well. Two examples: Some dozen or so Marshals gathered around the landing spot of Anthony Romero's (Tucuman, Argentina) errant seventh fairway tee shot, sitting in the deep rough adjacent to a picnic area filled with families. One particular table of five caught my eye, as it was populated with two adults and three very small children, just 35 feet in front of Tony's line of play to the green. As fate would have it, the kids were seated on the bench side facing Mr Romero's difficult upcoming shot. While I awaited the Marshals moving the family out of danger, Tony, being a Pro after all, lined up his nine iron and crushed the ball right over the table, as the kids shielded their eyes with their little hands. Fault lies with the "adult" parental units, PGA officials, or me for not intervening? U decide.

Immediately then, I vowed not to stay silent in the face of needless child abuse any longer. Shortly thereafter, I observed dozens of boys (and one girl) appearing to be no older than nine or ten carrying heavy wood signs that displayed the current score of the two Pros that these youngsters walked with in the blazing summer heat for 18 holes - more than two very hilly miles. So, I mentioned to a bored Marshal that I practiced labor law, particularly focused on helping exploited below minimum age workers. He proudly informed me that my concerns were unwarranted because - "Hey, the placard carriers are not being paid."

Of course, I was aware of that "exculpatory" stance, but still, his sincerity in defending this mindless exploitation left me only slightly amused (about his seeing only goodness in this repugnant PGA practice), while I continued to look for a real adult to put in charge of both the useless Marshals and these very useful young Serfs.