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
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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