I have long held the belief that when I am rating something the choices should be one or zero. When I go to the doctor and they show me the pain chart I always say 10 – why the hell would I be sitting in a veritable petri dish of horrible infectious disease unless the pain was a 10? When I rate my Uber driver, it is a 1 or a 5. Who thinks about it enough to give someone a 3? If the ride was fine, you give the driver a 5. If it sucked, it’s a 1. Anything else is ridiculous.

I find that this principle has carried over into many aspects of my life. The principle is embedded into the title of this rant, which is actually a text I received from one of the other degenerates who (very occasionally) contributes to the backbone of this blog – which is a group text string of immature idiots with golf obsessions. He purchased Stenson in a Calcutta (if you don’t know what a Calcutta is this is not the blog for you – you might be looking for something about real monkeys), then asked me to purchase a portion of his share of Stenson in the Master’s. We are now a “team” of sorts in that we have a mutual interest in Stenson doing something exceptional at the Master’s. Of course, it would have been handy to know that Stenson has diarrhea so bad that food is going through him like water through a fucking squid, but whining about that now gets me nowhere.

If Stenson misses the Eagle, then he’s a zero. If he makes the Eagle, he’s a 10 (at least in that moment). Stenson sucks – he missed the putt.