Ah, spring. The flowers have proliferated, and local golfers have, too. A new restaurant at the PT golf course, The Dusty Green, has even sprouted.

Golf brings us to this week’s book report. It’s the funniest new title I’ve read this year.

“Commander in Cheat,” a current bestseller by long-time Sports Illustrated golf writer Rick Reilly, takes us along as BLOTUS plays the golf courses he’s absorbed. It’s full of revealing stories that tell you a lot about the hardcore golfer/POTUS who imperiously drives carts across his greens, which Reilly likens to hanging your laundry in the Sistine Chapel.

Shameless cheater Trump long ago acquired the nickname  “Pele” among golfers for his habit of adroitly kicking errant balls out of the rough and onto the fairway. Reilly says Trump’s fellow golfers report that Hair Twitler drives a souped-up golf cart - so he can zoom out ahead of his partners and advance his ball.

One great story is about Trump carrying a can of spray paint in his cart. Why?

One golfer remembers subpar (so to speak) golfer POTUS painting an” X” on a tree after his drive hit it and bounced back. The next day, that tree was gone. Problem solved.

One wit says of golf, a game I was once addicted to, “If you can eat and drink while you participate, is it really a sport?” Probably not.

The annual Centrum summer program guide is out, and featured on the cover is a ukelele plinker named Danielle Ate The Sandwich. I am not making this up. Quite a stage name (née Danielle Anderson). As eye-catching as the mundane-sounding Caryn Johnson’s coinage: Caryn became Whoopi Goldberg.

Speaking of Centrum stage names, two summers ago, we saw a 50-foot-tall banner hanging at the Fort Worden blimp hangar-turned-concert-venue for Grace Kelly. No, not Jimmy Stewart’s costar. And just after playing at McCurdy, saxophone virtuoso Kelly (birth name Grace Chung) disappeared from Steven Colbert’s house band, Stay Human. I hear she’s now touring.

And have you seen the full-page casino ads for a band called Metalachi? It’s billed as “the world’s first heavy-metal mariachi band.” Another band that plays Peninsula gambling halls is Hell’s Belles, a female AC/DC tribute group. Then there’s Dread Zeppelin, a Led Zep/reggae amalgam.

BTW, I love mariachi music. Also, the standard Mexicana fare you hear at Mexican restaurants. But if you want to sample the current hot Latino music, try banda. Tune in 103.3 over in Mount Vernon, which comes in strong here. If you’ve never heard Mexican music with tubas, banda is quite the ear-opener.

I love banda; it’s propelled a Spanish-language station to the top spot in the radio ratings in L.A. So, tuba...or not tuba?

Some guy posted on the Port Townsend Twitter feed recently that you could get an Impossible Burger at Doc’s. The veggie Impossible has gotten lots of press for supposedly being, well, impossible to tell from the meat variety. So I hustled down to Doc’s, where my server informed me that, sorry, Burger King had recently bought the rights to the Impossible. They’re test-marketing it in St. Louis, so don’t try to get one at the BK in Sequim, either. You can’t Have It Your Way here - yet.

There are plenty of old cats here in town; I’m one of them. But my wife and I just may own the oldest feline one. Our black tuxedo kitty has always been in perfect health (her only vet visit was to be spayed) and you’d never guess our youthful-looking Rascal’s age: A ripe ripe old 23. Really. (What’s that in human years, about 100?) Reader challenge: Anyone know of an older kitty in PT?

Speaking of seniors, you may have seen those ubiquitous ads in the AARP magazine and elsewhere for Life Alert. They feature TV crimefighter John Walsh and the familiar, plaintive  “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

Comic Steven Pearl has a funny take on this. A few years ago, notes Pearl, Soul Brother Number One, James Brown, fell off the stage at an Atlanta concert and broke his leg.

“Know what he said?”

Do tell.

“Help...I’ve fallen and I can’t get DOWN!”

(PT resident and humorist Bill Mann would like to know if you know of an older cat than his Rascal. Just wonderin’.)