I’ve always hated Harold Ramis‘s Caddyshack, and I don’t care how much money it made or how cultish it is now. I hated it from the very first shot of that animatronic gopher, and so did Doug Kenney so don’t tell me. It taught me to vaguely dislike Chevy Chase. It turned me off to the Rodney Dangerfield thing and made me think twice about Bill Murray. (I didn’t come back to Murray until Tootsie, which opened two years later.) It’s a low, sloppy, catch-as-catch-can cocaine comedy. And now there’s a book about it by Chris Nashawaty? Seriously? On top of which I’ve always hated golf, golfers, golf apparel, golf courses, clubhouses, gin and tonics…that whole culture.