Golf: It is all relative.

The phone rings at the New York penthouse of an extremely wealthy ranch owner.

“Hello, Senor, this is Ernesto, the caretaker at your ranch.  I’m sorry to have to tell you, sir, but your parrot died.”

“My parrot?  The one who won the International Competition for trained parrots?  That’s a pity because I paid lots of money for that bird.  How did he die?”

“From eating rotten, meat, Senor.”

“What!  Who fed him rotten meat?”

“Nobody, Senor, he ate part of the dead horse.”

“Dead horse?  What dead horse?”

“It was your thoroughbred, Senor.”

“My prize stallion?”

“That’s the one, Senor.  He died from pulling the water wagon.”

“Are you insane?  What water wagon?
”The one we used to put out the fire, Senor.”

“Good grief!  What fire are you talking about?”

“Your house, Senor.  Your house burned down.  The candle fell over and set the curtains on fire.”

“But, we have electricity at the house.  Why was a candle burning?”

“For the funeral, Senor.”

“WHAT FUNERAL?”

“Your wife, Senor.  She showed up one night out of the blue.  I thought she was a burglar, so I hit her with your new Nike Tiger Woods Driver ..”

SILENCE……………………LONG SILENCE………………..

“Ernesto…..if you broke that driver you are in BIG BIG trouble.”