My dearest sons,
I speak to you now not from Rome, but from heaven’s balcony itself, seated beside the Almighty, gazing down upon your upcoming pilgrimage to Pinehurst. And verily, He is concerned.
We have reviewed your lineups. We have seen the group chats. The Lord weeps… but also chuckles.
I bring you this message as your heavenly Pope, praying for your bodies, your souls, and most urgently - your hydration levels. For this trip, my children, will test you. The sun shall beat down like the fires of hell, and the beers will flow like the river Jordan. But as God Himself has decreed: No man shall survive on transfusions of IPAs alone.
I offer special blessings for those most in need:
Jake the Icon - whose calves could move mountains, but whose CPAP machine teeters on the edge of mortality. We pray for uninterrupted sleep and heroic acts… though let us not forget, bravery like yours comes with a tip jar.
Davis Lyons, the Lion of your tribe, whose aura blinds angels. May your serenity carry your team through the valley of the shadow of bogeys.
Simon, your captain, bearer of the 7-wood, which raises many questions in the kingdom of heaven. But God, in His mercy, believes in second chances - even for club selections.
Rob Shapiro, the ClutchBiffy, forged in war. Golf is battle, and Pinehurst no less so. The Lord sees you marching forth like a soldier of old. May your swing be true, and your hydration pack never run dry.
Ari Sterenson, who claims a 30 handicap, but whose swing whispers of deception. Heaven sees all, and we know about that 86. We pray you bring peace, not drama.
Nick Bawa, the Big Dawg - first pick, high expectations. May your drives soar, and may you find humility… when The Icon calls you out for a 1v1.
Nick Tangredi, of the noble Italians, Sopranos-blessed. May your game be sharp and your food critiques sharper.
Asa, the playboy, shepherd of this flock. Quick of reflex, fierce of heart, we pray you never need to choose a human shield. But if you do, the Lord recommends a Nick.
Alexander the Conqueror - an 8-seed with the volatility of an options market. May you conquer fairways as boldly as your namesake.
Tyler Cryons, known in heaven for cart-related sins. We have not forgotten Fossil Trace. God forgives, but the Hyundai Sonata does not.
Joey Finkelstein, the cause of generational trauma and too many passed hors d’oeuvres. The Lord sees your heart - and your slander about pelican-shaped suits.
Howard Peaches - sweet of soul, but the angels ask: Where is the fear? May you strike dread into your enemies and finish them off, Ding Dong Diana. Danny Pilsner - a Guinness in a world of craft beers. We bless your flexibility and suggest light stretching and aspirin as part of your spiritual practice. Adam Non-Hodgkins, whose handicap changes like the seasons. You cannot hide in heaven. Shariah law is in full effect. Sweet & Sourdick, the low handicapper who carries the weight of his team. Heaven watches you closely, as does The Icon, who is absolutely not deflecting attention from your importance. Abe Jacobs - whose game is a mystery, but whose name is beloved in these halls. Whether diamond or cubic zirconia, we shall see.
And now, my children:
Hydrate early. Hydrate often. Or Pinehurst will become your Golgotha. I bless your swings, your putts, your wagers, and your livers. May your cups overfloweth - not just with spirits, but with the holy waters that sustain us all. The Lord and I are watching. Don’t make us come down there. Amen.


Nancy Reagan

Kesha

The Pope AI Voice

The pope speaking to people from heaven

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