In the land of golf courses and politics, there was a president named Arnold Putterson. Now, President Putterson had many talents: he could deliver a stirring speech, negotiate a tricky peace treaty, and even charm a room full of skeptics. But there was one thing he was decidedly not good at: golf.

Despite his lack of skill, President Putterson was convinced he could play with the best golfers in the USA. In fact, he often boasted to anyone who would listen about his golfing prowess. “I have the best swing, the best putt, the best everything!” he’d declare, waving his golf club around like a conductor’s baton. “Just the other day, I hit a hole-in-one on the White House lawn!”

The truth was, President Putterson’s golf game was a disaster. His drives had a nasty habit of veering off into the woods, his chips usually landed in the sand traps, and his putts? Well, they rarely found the hole. But the president was nothing if not confident, and he believed that confidence was all it took to win at golf—or at least to convince others he was good at it.

One day, Putterson decided to put his “skills” to the test and invited some of the top golfers in the country for a round at the presidential golf course. These pros had won numerous championships, broken records, and were legends in their own right. The president was undeterred. “I’ll show them how it’s done,” he said, winking at his staff.

As the game began, it quickly became apparent that Putterson’s game wasn’t up to par—literally. His first drive sliced hard right, narrowly missing a Secret Service agent, and landed in the rough. The pros tried to keep straight faces, but the sight of the president hacking away at the ball, sending divots flying, was too much. Even the Secret Service agents, trained to maintain their composure, had to stifle giggles.

Despite his poor performance, Putterson maintained his bravado. Every time he missed a shot (which was often), he had an excuse ready: the sun was in his eyes, the wind shifted, or the grass was just too long. At one point, after a particularly wild swing that sent the ball into a pond, he claimed, “I meant to do that—it’s all part of my strategy!”

The pros, being polite and respectful, nodded along, though they were struggling to hold back laughter. By the end of the game, the president’s score was well into the triple digits, while the pros had all finished with their usual excellent scores. Undeterred, Putterson announced, “That was great! I’m sure I gave you all a run for your money. But don’t worry, I’ll practice more for our rematch!”

As they left the course, one of the pros, still chuckling, whispered to another, “You know, for a guy who claims to be the best, he’s really good at… being entertaining.” The other pro nodded, grinning, “Well, at least he didn’t try to claim that the water hazards were just his practice for becoming an Olympic swimmer!”

And so, President Arnold Putterson became a legend—not for his golf skills, but for his unfailing confidence and ability to turn a disastrous game into a story for the ages. Even today, golfers still talk about the time they played with the worst golfer in the White House, who swore he was the best. And who knows? Maybe, in his own way, he was.

Yours truly,

Socially Out Of Bounds (SOB)