****This letter was plastic-hand written by Chubbs Peterson, a fictional golf instructor who passed away in the 1996 comedy ‘Happy Gilmore,’ a fictional movie based on an outlandish premise. Through a medium to the deceased, Peterson’s sole message to every living human was to confirm the existence of Heaven describe what God looks like advocate for Topgolf, a sports entertainment complex constructed years after he fake died in a fake movie. It is 100% real and has been relayed word-for-word as he told the medium I manifested for the sake of this article.****
Damn Fools!
I am writing from heaven first to express my embarrassment over falling out a window to my death over the severed head of the animal who stole my hand all those years back. The mere fact that Happy’s bag-of-bones grandmother outlived me has haunted me well into the afterlife. She couldn’t even fall asleep without a warm glass of milk. Give me a break.
My demons aside, I can honestly look down from the high heavens with pride, knowing that the game I loved has evolved to such an admirable stage. I am speaking of Topgolf. Knowing that both the casual and competitive golfers can improve their games while also having a blast eliminates the necessity to go to a clown-inspired mini golf course and potentially causing $100,000 worth of course damage. Happy, I’m still lobbying God to let you in here. He’s not budging because you beat up an elderly game show host, but I’ll never stop trying.
A session at the driving range is always a good time, but not ideal for target practice. Unless of course you’re aiming for the dude in the cart scooping up the balls, then it’s open season.
But Topgolf adds a competitive gaming element I never stayed alive long enough to experience. Players aim for 11 giant, dartboard-like targets on a 215-yard outfield and hit microchipped golf balls that score themselves.The farther the shot goes, coupled with its proximity to the pin, the more points you get. This is awesome for players who just want to focus on playing golf, but not so great for that one friend who’s shaved double digits off his handicap by lying on his scorecard.
Let’s compare the two.
DRIVING RANGE:
I would say “shoot me,” but I’m already dead.
TOPGOLF:
Also, although it was ignored in the movie, I, Chubbs Peterson, was a sucker for pounding a few cold ones back on the course. In my hay-day, I’d have to stuff the beers in my golf bag and try to drink them before they got warm enough to melt my prosthetic hand. Imagine that treatment for a guy Sports Illustrated said would be the next Arnold Palmer!
Topgolf has remedied one of golf’s biggest conundrums by bringing the bar to your climate-controlled bay, so switch off between sipping and swinging.
God, I could use a cold one right now. Maybe I’ll ask Him when he’s done eating with Anthony Bourdain. Even God picks favorites.
Speaking of delicious food, what I’d give to sink my teeth into one of Topgolf’s delicious menu offerings.
Like their Brontosaurus Rib. Try to look at this photo without your mouth watering. You can’t.
Or this Mega Burger. Simply divine. And I would know. Because I passed away, remember? From the alligator.
With all of the incredible aspects Topgolf exhibits, none trumps the this perk:
THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTELY ZERO ALLIGATORS
In it’s decade-plus long history in the United States, there has yet to be one reported case of a damn alligator jumping up and biting anyone’s hand off at any of Topgolf’s nearly 50 locations nationwide.
What a time to be alive. I wouldn’t know.
Peace out, fools.
-Chubbs
The BroBible team writes about gear that we think you want. Occasionally, we write about items that are a part of one of our affiliate partnerships and we will get a percentage of the revenue from sales.