Golf would be so much better if you had to battle a new mythological creature every time you hit a ball

So guys I went golfing again today and I found out that I still suck at it that hasn't changed from two weeks ago. However with some assistance from the helpful golf professional mumbjo jumbo speakers at Pro Golf I at least know why I am bad at it. First of all though what the hell kind of lame name is "Pro Golf" for a golf course it sounds like they spent a couple seconds choosing the name instead of something clever like all those King Par stores if I were in charge I'd get more customers by calling it Pro Golfasaurus McManRape with fire-breathing dragons that pick up the balls on the driving range instead of the little guys in caged tractors and if you hit the dragon they will come and eat you alive oh man that would be sweet but I don't know how many customers we'd have after a day and I hear dragons don't exist so maybe I'll have to revise my business model a bit.

But anyway the pro golfer expert head honcho gave me lots of helpful explanations as to what I was doing wrong. First of all I was hitting with a massive fade because I was putting the wrong English on the ball when teeing from the rough and when I'm swinging the iron around the clubs moment of inertia loses all of its muffler bearings so I'm not getting enough melatonin in my hippocampus to walk for the cure. Or something along those lines.

Then he shows me how he would swing the club. It looked exactly the same as how I'd been doing it. He shows me a couple more times in pretty useless slow motion because as far as I know when you swing in slow motion you get the movements right but the ball goes like 2 feet. Then he let me try again and he immediately saw several thousand mistakes in my technique and how I was moving my deltoids all wrong and gave me a huge list of things to practice so that I would have a better golf swing and I promised him, staring like a deer into headlights shining golf textbooks into its eyes, that I would practice everything he told me about calculus and epilepsy.

He then went on helping other perplexed and hopeless golfers in their quest to become boring people in stupid polyester pants. I went on sucking at golf. And the circle of life continues