Charles Price, Bernard Darwin and Herbert Warren Wind have better things to do in the afterlife than roll over in their graves. This I promise you. And yet, if this were a previous generation, I would be writing about them rolling over in their graves over the headlines I’ve read over the course of the last months. These are headlines from major golf websites, not shams or clickbait operations. I’m baffled that people of regard in the industry care to publish them; it’s as if the inmates were running the asylum. I’m even more baffled that people care to read or watch these bits. Here’s are a few examples from the first six months of 2016:

Watch Jordan Spieth’s Caddie Hit A Shank At Pebble Beach

I tune in to watch Michael Greller motion with his hand, to hear Michael Greller reassure Jordan Spieth, time and again, of the proper mental image and swing thought needed #PaintThePicture. Does anyone need to see the shot we all dread hitting, hit be someone not paid to play golf? Absolutely befuddled by this one.

Paulina Gretzky Wishes Dustin Johnson A Happy (I vomited on my keyboard, so no more headline)

Paulina Gretzky, probably a nice person but one who has apparently never held a job, nor contributed to society in any way beyond working out and appearing in wee bits of clothing, with some ethereal profile, in underwear and (I think) a caddie bib, holding white roses. WTF?

People Pay $75 and up for a golf … putter cover?

This isn’t news, so much as madness. Do people purchase these and store them away, hoping that they will appreciate in value? I guess if that money is truly burning a hole in your pocket, then give it to charity. Funny story: once I had a 9-volt battery and a quarter in my pocket. Straight fire. Thought my leg was lit.

Are INSERT NAMES HERE America’s Cutest Couple?

More goo-goo stuff. Thanks for this one. Journalists who validate couple names (these consist of some combination of the two entities into one) are sycophantic; golf doesn’t need it and the fact that it takes up space on a respected golf magazine’s website tells me that I’m losing respect for that website.

In sad conclusion, this appeal to a non-golfing public that these publications hope to attract is a whimsical tryst with windmills. There’s a madness to it, in which the editors give writers an assignment (or free reign) to write drivel that fills space that doesn’t need filling. Nowhere does it say that a spotlight on the hangers-on, the non-factors, the cohorts, is worth shining. Caddies, mates, accessories and their ilk should never be the story, unless to report that our civilization has finally, ingloriously, come to a crashing halt. At that point, we won’t need the internet, anyway.