Cookie cutter concepts that make Bangor, Maine seem no different than Billings, Montana have swallowed America up, turning us into a stagnant cup of tepid urine.
This homogenization has reached even to the hallowed grounds of the American Miniature Golf Course.  The new miniature golf courses aren't scary.  They aren't funny.  They aren't anything.
Inevitably, they are perfectly manicured beasts that inspire sort of a lackluster yawn, just like every Goddamnthing else it seems.

Well, there lies a miniature golf course that harks back to the days when originality was still something to strive for regardless if there was a risk that a dangling piece of metal might disembowel you.  Back before people were so worried if they accidentally received an electric shock when taking the ball out of the hole.  Those were the kinds of things that gave you stories, baby.  Memories.

So, grab your best girl, favorite guy, some band-aids, neosporine, and itch relief powder.  I'ts time to go to a land of rust.  Where the unmanicured lawns are stared at glassily by slutty teenage girls making minimum wage.  Where barely working props might just snap off and fall on your head if you don't watch out.  Come with me to Magic Carpet Golf.
The Yuckiest Little Miniature Golf                   Course in the West
by ira hirsh