A man was lining up his tee shot for what seemed like an eternity.
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He was looking up, looking down, measuring the distance, figuring the wind direction and calculating the speed.
Finally, his golf partner was fed up. “What’s taking so long? Hit the blasted ball!”
“My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse,” the first man said. “I want to make this a perfect shot.”
“Forget it, man,” said his partner. “You haven’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of hitting her from here!”
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