Sports News Without Access, Favor, Or Discretion

Jim Nantz Appears To Be Insane

In attempt to teach you what real pain is, Golf Digest decided to let Jim Nantz go Kerouac on everyone’s ass. You should never expose yourself to Jim Nantz’s stream-of-consciousness musings, but I would like to briefly draw your attention to his deeply disturbing anecdote about toast:

On the other hand, there’s a little Jack Nicholson in “Five Easy Pieces” in me. I’m a breakfast guy: three eggs scrambled, with bacon and wheat toast, burnt. The problem is, it never came back burnt. For years it would arrive limp and tan, which brought breakfast to a standstill when I sent the toast back. It was costing me 10 minutes a day, which, multiplied by six days a week, is four hours a month. That’s 48 hours—two full days—per year. My friends, time is currency. My wife, Courtney, got tired of hearing me complain about it. She found a photograph on the Internet of a kitchen toaster ejecting two slices of burnt toast. She minimized it, printed it out and had it laminated. She insisted I put it in my wallet. When I order, I present the photo to my server. I get some strange looks, but I can assure you, the toast now arrives black and scary, just the way I like it.

Advertisement

Being rich and old rots your brain.

h/t Bryan Curtis

[Golf Digest]

Share This Story

About the author