PDGA Ratings Update Gives 869 and 969 Rated Golfers Childish Chuckle


The PDGA, as they are wont to do, unloaded a new round of ratings this week, sending a great many disc golfers into hysterics.

Some were despondent, watching as their rainy rounds finally entered the mix, tearing down any hope they had of reaching 950 in the coming year.  Others simply sighed and looked away, wondering if they’ll ever move on up to intermediate.

A few of our fellow golfers had to have their shoelaces taken away.

But, for a great many players who make up the middle ground of disc golf, they  found themselves with a pleasantly jovial surprise:

Sixty Nine.

Yes, that most ubiquitous of numbers, often denoting not only the sexual act of mirrored, mutual fellatio, but representative of the entire teenage culture.  Like Beavis and Butthead, Grand Theft Auto, and synthetic marijuana, the number 69 has become a calling card in the adolescent community, and now a new batch of disc golfers can share that honor.

Ryan Forte was, at first, disappointed for not having broken 970 – a longstanding goal of his – but after realizing he landed on 969, his mood lifted a bit.

“Sure, I would have liked to break through into the 970’s, but now I can just sit back, snag a Mountain Dew, and play a whole lot of Call of Duty“, said Forte as he picked out his next eyebrow ring.

Forte even took the mathematical anomaly to the internet, where he repeatedly posted the following clip from Adam Sandler’s classic film (?) Billy Madison on the local disc golf group’s Facebook page:

Other golfers, such as Elyse McMillan, were equally as excited about their 869 designation.

“Hell yeah, bruh!  SIXTY NIIIIIIIIINE!” exclaimed the slightly inebriated McMillan before making a lewd gesture with her fingers, mouth, and tongue.

Reel it in, young lady.

As for our own ratings, we at Happy Hour Disc Golf are still waiting for the PDGA to respond to our request for a style-points bonus of +25 points for totally coordinating all of the different shades of ice blue into one killer Sunday outfit.

As we left Spackler Park in East Bumblefudge, Florida this morning, over the faint sound of cracking cans we heard an exclamation that lifted our spirits, however.

Carrying on the wind from the 17th tee to our production station, the familiar voice of Elyse McMillan could be heard, singing and shouting “Spring Break SIIIIIIIIIXTY NIIIIIIIIINE!” over and over again.