Theotech Laboratories (a division of O.L.I.N.Y.K. [a subsidiary of One

World Corporation]), in conjunction with the Grand Clavistry, have

completed a grand undertaking: the analysis and categorization of the

successive layers of matter/energy/living material within a golf ball.

At some point may be available a computer model, as well as a

Sigma-level hallucigraphic sequence. In any case, read further only at

your own risk. Remember: bleeding head good, healed head bad.

The outer shell of the average "true" golf ball is inevitably a thin

layer of plastic, dimpled to provide auronautical sympthasis and

usually imprinted with the name of a local politician. This plastic,

actually an incredibly tough composite of aluminum, fiberglass and

ceramic tiling, is inevitably cast in a simple and dignified white. The

few golf balls that are not white are usually not golf balls, but

government listening devices and radio transmitters (an obscure but

rigid federal law requires these devices to be "easily visible", but

not easily recognizable, resulting in vividly concealed electronic

subterfuge). Early in golf's history, golf balls were sewn from cloth

and filled with straw, or composed of tightly-packed soil. For obvious

reasons, neither construction has lasted to the present day.

Within this layer of unassuming plastic lies the first of three rubber

sheaths. Each sheath has been tested for impenetrability to a force of

3,000 lbs. per square inch (in metric terms, that's almost 75.375

hectares per photon!), and the molecular structure of each sheath

prevents the passage of static charge, moisture, and even magnetic

pulses!

Beneath the first sheath, a coating of firmolon oil oozes securely

throughout its stratum. Firmolon is a space-age emulsion designed to

expand and solidify upon puncture of the outer casing, thus protecting

the golf ball's inner levels from exposure to the outside world (and

vice-versa). According to laboratory tests, a single golf firomolonic

ball can withstand up to 200 millimeter-diameter punctures before the

oil is exhausted.

But Firmolon can only remain properly viscous between 40 and 70 degrees

Farenheit (that's between 6 and 800 degrees Centigrade). The oil is

therefore subordinated by a lead-grey jacket of hydranium. Hydranium is

a radioproactive metal alloy that maintains a constant internal

temperature of 57 degrees F (or 9 degrees Centigrade) and ensures that

the sealant can do its job in any meteorological conditions!

Underneath the hydranium is a "wrapping" of thin but taut plastic

coils. These coils, designed to spread the impact of a golf club

throughout their length, and thus providing the golf ball with its

distinctive "dead man's spin", are, when uncoiled, almost seven miles

(that's over 500 angstroms for the metrically-dependent) in length!

These coils are also capable of recording the kinetic history of a golf

ball along their length, preserving every bounce, stroke and "hole" for

up to ten years. One wonders who is rich enough to play back these

recordings? But let's move on!

Beneath the coil "mantle" is the second rubber sheath, and under that

is a magnetic suspension projector array. You see, the multiple layers

of compacted and concentrated materials within a golf ball would

normally bring the ball's weight up to almost ten pounds (that's 5.715

cubits for our friends in the godless European Alliance!). So the

projector array is needed to "hang" the golf ball securely within the

magnetic field of the Earth, removing the vast majority of the ball's

net mass and weight, and, incidentally, providing the golf ball with

the ability to go "hog wild" (remaining motionless in the air for

almost ten seconds and then racing, ferret-like, for the nearest hole)

when struck at precisely the right angle.

The array surrounds a layer of delicious chewing gum, inserted into

every ball as a tribute to Hevi MacHinery, the man who first conceived

of the modern golf ball. Hevi supposedly constructed the first golf

ball in 1769 and, lacking the technical skill necessary to produce

extruded rubber, filled most of the inside of his balls with his own

used chewing gum. Despite the absurdity of this practice, Hevi shot a

hole-in-one every game of his life, and there isn't a golfer today who

isn't willing to deal with a bit of chewing gum if it means duplicating

old MacHinery's luck with a ball!

Within the gooey, disgusting gum layer is a razor-thin but crucial film

of pure gold. This film is necessary in that it is the only material

capable of holding back the layer underneath: the picovirus.

Picoviruses are dangerous subatomic bacteria that feed on the energy

inherent in all living matter, and it is likely that these li'l nasties

are the cause of many a tale of "antimatter in golf balls". After all,

any living tissue exposed to a picovirus would quickly be consumed and

would degenerate into formless glop. Fortunately, the golf ball

picovirus can only live for a few minutes in the open air (nitrogen

being toxic to them). When the golfball is struck by a speeding club,

the outer layer of picoviruses absorb the shock and are destroyed, at

which point the nearby specimens eat their deceased neighbors and

quickly grow to fill the void. Despite the biohazard, no nonliving

material on earth is as capable of withstanding repeated impact as a

generous helping of hungry (and resilient) picoviruses!

Holding back the greedy bacteria is the third and final sheath of

rubber, and within that sheath is the heart of every true golf ball.

For those who have always wondered where the word "golf" came from, the

answer lies within: a fragment of the interstellar champion-demon

"G'oll'ph" [not his real name], a shred of his/her/us/its

destroyed-yet-somehow-still-alive remains, a tiny but essential scrap

of the brain-genital-carapace of this ancient athletic diety-ace spends

an eternity within the walls of a tiny sphere of sports paraphrenalia.

This being came to our world during the reign of the ancient Greek

gods, and through a long and tortuous battle (during which, alas,

G'oll'ph took to the losing side of the Titans), he was captured and

punished with an eternity within "the dented eggs of sport", as Hermes

called them as inventor of the game. In ironic dedication to the

creature encased in each ball, Hermes called them "G'oll'ph balls", and

scattered them throughout the world. Later, the story goes, a Titan

named Xixi gathered the balls and bequeathed them to a family living in

what would later be known at Scotland. The story gets complicated at

this point, going into great detail about the Titan's relationship with

his "club" and his "bag", but that's the Greeks for you. In any case,

it is the tiny fragment of this doomed and tortured godling that allows

any genuine golf ball to fit within the spiritual format of a game. And

it is, perhaps, fitting that, at the center of any golf ball, just as

at the root of any golf game, there are terrible pain and degradation.

We hope this Release brings new meaning to the relationship you may

have with your golf ball.

the Grand Clavister

[Picture to follow since 1970]

--

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