Post by hmammoth on Mar 4, 2024 10:10:32 GMT -5
This week we head to Loose Lips Crick by ryanmcconnell. Now some of you may have heard the the origins of the term Loose Lips comes from the US government during the second world war, and while they did use the phrase on posters in effect warning people to what they say as there could be a spy listening in, they in fact stole the term from this very golf course and a incident that happened just months before the war began. So let me tell you the real story of the origin of the term loose lips.
In the golden light of dawn, the golf course lay quiet, a sanctuary of serenity broken only by the occasional chirping of birds and the soft thud of clubs striking balls. Amongst the tranquil setting, there roamed a man whose presence was as grating as a divot in a putting green.Greg was a fixture at the club, known for his endless prattle and his knack for spreading rumors like wildfire. With every step he took, he regaled his fellow golfers with the juiciest gossip and the most scandalous tales, his voice cutting through the peaceful ambiance like a wedge through butter.But Greg's gift for gab came with a price. His loose lips had a way of stirring up trouble, sowing discord and mistrust among his companions. And as he chattered away, his words carried with them the weight of untold secrets and hidden truths, leaving a trail of chaos and resentment in their wake.As the weeks passed, tensions at the club reached a boiling point, fueled by Greg's incessant gossip and the resentment it bred among his fellow golfers. And on one fateful winters morning, as the sun rose over the tranquil streams and manicured fairways, those tensions finally boiled over.As Greg prepared to take his swing, his mind buzzing with the latest scandal to grace the clubhouse, his companions exchanged knowing glances. With a shared nod and a silent understanding, they knew that something had to be done – that Greg's loose lips had finally sealed his fate.And so it was that as Greg addressed the ball, his back turned to his fellow golfers, a silent conspiracy unfolded behind him. With swift and decisive motions, his companions closed in, their hands reaching out to grab him and drag him towards the nearby creek.
In a desperate struggle, Greg fought against his assailants, his cries for mercy drowned out by the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves. But his efforts were in vain, as his companions lifted him high into the air and plunged him headfirst into the icy depths below.
As Greg thrashed and struggled against the cold embrace of the water, his companions stood on the banks of the creek, watching in grim silence as his cries grew fainter and fainter, until they were nothing more than a distant echo in the stillness of the morning.
And so it was that Greg met his watery end, a cautionary tale for golfers far and wide. For in the tranquil beauty of the golf course, even the most skilled players must heed the warning: speak softly, lest your words become the instrument of your demise.
So be careful what you say this week, you never know who is listening, you never know what they are planning, Good luck, have fun and if you talk to much, watch your back.
In the golden light of dawn, the golf course lay quiet, a sanctuary of serenity broken only by the occasional chirping of birds and the soft thud of clubs striking balls. Amongst the tranquil setting, there roamed a man whose presence was as grating as a divot in a putting green.Greg was a fixture at the club, known for his endless prattle and his knack for spreading rumors like wildfire. With every step he took, he regaled his fellow golfers with the juiciest gossip and the most scandalous tales, his voice cutting through the peaceful ambiance like a wedge through butter.But Greg's gift for gab came with a price. His loose lips had a way of stirring up trouble, sowing discord and mistrust among his companions. And as he chattered away, his words carried with them the weight of untold secrets and hidden truths, leaving a trail of chaos and resentment in their wake.As the weeks passed, tensions at the club reached a boiling point, fueled by Greg's incessant gossip and the resentment it bred among his fellow golfers. And on one fateful winters morning, as the sun rose over the tranquil streams and manicured fairways, those tensions finally boiled over.As Greg prepared to take his swing, his mind buzzing with the latest scandal to grace the clubhouse, his companions exchanged knowing glances. With a shared nod and a silent understanding, they knew that something had to be done – that Greg's loose lips had finally sealed his fate.And so it was that as Greg addressed the ball, his back turned to his fellow golfers, a silent conspiracy unfolded behind him. With swift and decisive motions, his companions closed in, their hands reaching out to grab him and drag him towards the nearby creek.
In a desperate struggle, Greg fought against his assailants, his cries for mercy drowned out by the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves. But his efforts were in vain, as his companions lifted him high into the air and plunged him headfirst into the icy depths below.
As Greg thrashed and struggled against the cold embrace of the water, his companions stood on the banks of the creek, watching in grim silence as his cries grew fainter and fainter, until they were nothing more than a distant echo in the stillness of the morning.
And so it was that Greg met his watery end, a cautionary tale for golfers far and wide. For in the tranquil beauty of the golf course, even the most skilled players must heed the warning: speak softly, lest your words become the instrument of your demise.
So be careful what you say this week, you never know who is listening, you never know what they are planning, Good luck, have fun and if you talk to much, watch your back.
