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Country club wants me? Thanks, but no thanks

I took a double take out on the interstate
When I saw her makin' eyes at me
So I followed her down - the clubhouse drive
Past the pool on the 18th green
In the parkin' lot...I said it's mighty hot
Maybe I could buy you a beer
She said I'm glad you asked...but I'll have to pass
Cause only members are allowed in here...and I said

Well I'm a member of a country club
Country music is what I love
I drive an old Ford pick-up truck
I do my drink-in from a Dixie cup
Yea I'm a bona-fide dancin' fool
I shoot a mighty mean game of pool
At any honky-tonk roadside pub
I'm a member of a country club

Give a big round of applause to country yodeler Travis Tritt for those lyrics. I just thought they would be a good lead-in to what I want to say today.

The country club wants me.
I have no earthly idea why.
They never wanted me before.
So what's the catch?

I know the country club is not what is used to be.
Years back, you could walk into the "19th hole" and see men who had streets named after them.
Nowadays it seems the majority of the guys are car dealers or bankers or remnants from what old Joe Brown calls "The Lucky Sperm Club."

Business must be bad.
Members must be leaving.
Why else would they want some poor guy like me who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks?

According to the Wichita Falls Country Club Website, admission is by invitation only.
"Before any person shall be entitled to membership in the Club, the person's name shall be proposed by two stockholding members of the Club in good standing upon a written form to be provided by the Membership Director, containing such information regarding the candidate for admission, as shall be from time to time required by the Board of Governors."
That's one hell of a long sentence -- 59 words by my count.
I'm not sure what two members proposed asking me to join.
And in the information on me provided in written form, did they say that I am a Democrat who voted for Obama?

If that doesn't get them to cancel that invitation, nothing will.

The country club brags that it has a lot of offer, but most of it doesn't interest me.
Fine dining? Don't need it.
State of the art fitness center? Not for this fat boy.
Pool and poolside terrace? Fat boys don't wear bathing suits.
Special events entertainment? I prefer rock and roll.
Indoor-outdoor tennis? Nah.

The only thing this place has to offer me is a golf course and a bar.
And I don't need to be a country club member to play golf or drink.

The extra incentive to join is a 50 percent reduction of the stockholding initiation fee and waiving the initiation fee for every other membership classification.

I was feeling pretty special until I found out that Lynn Walker got the same letter of invitation.
Did everybody else in town who doesn't live in a cardboard box also get one of these letters?

After a minute or two of careful consideration, I have decided to decline the offer.
I'm not a joiner. The only club I ever remember joining was the Boys Club.
I am not a member of the Lions, Rotary, Optimists or Pessimists.

As the late, great Groucho Marx once put it:
"I don't care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members."

Posted by at 8:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)