Discounting chainsaw juggling and Russian roulette, golf is perhaps the silliest non-amatory game played by adults. With the first two, there is at least the potential for excitement, albeit of the drunken, bloody sort. But unless your idea of fun involves hours spent trolling in a ghastly little buggy on a too-green lawn—or even more humiliating, walking on same—in pursuit of a little white ball, then expect a torturous afternoon if the boss, an in-law, or some other person who wants impressing asks you to join him/her on the links. Not even the eccentric togs (garish Lilly Pulitzer, say, or argyles and tweedy knickers) make up for the game’s inherent tedium. But the ageless WHISKEY MAC might: Fill a sturdy highball glass with shaved ice, add a generous splash of Stone’s Original Green Ginger Wine, then plenty of any good scotch. Stir. If you’re the frivolous sort, top with a blast of fizz from your gasogene and garnish with the thinnest crescent of lemon imaginable.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on February 15, 2005