Jim Nantz here. You probably think the offseason is a pretty quiet time for me. And you would be right. Once The Masters – A Tradition, you might have heard, Unlike Any Other – concludes in early April, it frees up a big chunk of my schedule. That’s a lot of time stretched out before me just waiting to be filled. Heck, it’s not until September that I really have anything to do again.
I tell ya, if it weren’t for that extensive break, I might have to cut down on my swath of destruction.
As it stands, I’m just an absurdly successful man bored by the mundane social mores that govern our everyday lives. Once you’ve reached the heights that I have, basic compassion for your fellow man becomes a thing of the past. What are they to you, the towering figure of achievement? You see yourself scowling at your peers with contempt, dangerous thoughts creeping into your mind until eventually you’re compelled to act upon them, only to bring some rare moment of amusement to a life made too easy by riches. If it weren’t for unthinkable acts of malevolence, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
Weeks into my downtime, the anxiety starts small, and so too are my deeds. Just a little minor mischief, like forcing a tattoo artist to put 56 stars on a girls face, when she only asked for one. Seedy fellas are good like that. Slip ’em an extra C-note and there’s nothing they won’t do.
She looks like Jem lady-ejaculated on her mug, doesn’t she? Hooo, that’s a doozy. Have you heard that fellow Moby’s “We Are All Made of Stars”? I did for the first time the other day. Fella’s got a future. Anyway, I took a photo of this girl and masturbate to that song in the background while the wife makes a souffle.
But if you think that’s enough to slake the inner demons, well, you really don’t understand what it’s like to gaze upon another and be reminded that
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The beginning of May found on a vacation near the tar pits with the family. We had a nice confab with this other family, the Hendersons. The husband was a stand-up guy. Really knew his wife. Recommended a fine tempranillo I’ve since tried with some pan-fried tilapia. Anyway, he asked me about my work and explained how he always wanted to get into broadcasting. A real dream of his apparently. I told him I would do what I could. We really got down to brass tacks. I told the wife to take his wife and kids off to get some Italian ices while we fellas talked business.
And that’s when I shoved him in the tar.
“Bagjsndocahww,” is what I heard him say as his head submerged beneath the bubbling inky goo. I sat, knotting my fingers and grinning as he struggled futilely. Those are the moments worth treasuring, friends. Boy, I really gave it to the missus that night.
Then there was the time that I rigged the Iranian election. If we really wanna be honest about things, it was remarkably easy. I’ve had more foul-ups with the dry cleaning than getting that election to go the way I wanted. You contact a few retired black-ops guys, get a few closers, a few premature discussions with the Ayatollah, easy-peasy stuff. He gets a bum rap, but I think that [has researcher bring him card with pronunciation guide] Ack-Mah-Dinna-Jad guy is just plain misunderstood. I think once we get all this Twitter stuff sorted out, me and him are gonna have a few productive months ahead.
There you have it. A small sampling of the things I’ve been up to. No big whoop. I say it’s pretty par for the course for a spring/summer life in the Nantz house. I try to keep as many irons in the fire as possible, lest time really starts to drag. And we can’t have that.
What do I have planned for you?
Only time will tell, friends.