The Perfect Shot
Sam stood over his tee shot on the 450 yard 18th hole for what seemed an eternity.
He waggled, looked up, looked down, waggled again, but didn't start his back swing.
Finally, his exasperated partner asked, "What the hell is taking so long?"
"My wife is watching me from the clubhouse balcony," Sam explained.
"I want to make a perfect shot."
"Good lord," his companion exclaimed. "You don't have a snowball'* chance in hell of hitting her from here."