Tim GULLA LEDGER STAFF WRITER Given my string of luck lately I’m beginning to think it’s finally time for a career change.

There’s a special ability I’ve developed — though I’ve never wanted to advertise it out of fear I would frighten others, especially animals and small children — that quite frankly is uncanny. It’s so uncanny, really, the publishers of Marvel Comics might want to model a superhero after me, though given my out-ofshapeness they might want to avoid a stereotypical skintight uniform.

Yes, my friends, I have the ability to make the sky fall down.

I am a rainmaker.

This ability requires no dancing, no burning of ceremonial objects, and definitely no singing. My co-workers can attest I can’t carry a tune anyway.

To unleash, or should I say uncork, this ability all I have to do is head to a golf course. It’s a guarantee that no matter what WSPA, WYFF— 4 or Fox Carolina meteorologists have to say about how sunny it will be, the moment I tee off on the first hole of any golf course anywhere the sky will become dark and thunder will rumble.

And now, I fear, my power to generate rain is becoming even stronger — much stronger than any one man, or dare I say any country, should have at their disposal.

Now, it seems I can create rain just by thinking about heading out to golf.

Case in point: the last two times I even thought about golfing, the skies opened up before I could even call a golf course to arrange a tee time.

Imagine that, the sheer thought of heading out to the links creating ripple effects through space, time and the troposphere.

Such skills could undoubtedly be useful in any number of industries or sectors.

Any time there’s a drought, for instance, farmers across the nation or world could invite me to play golf at a course near them. Corn, potato and wheat crops will be bountiful in no time.

And who wants to demonstrate, riot or spark a coup d’état in the rain? If there’s an uprising in some Central American country, Middle Eastern region, or even in Columbia, the C.I.A., NATO or South Carolina Legislature might want to phone in a tee time for me.

My services would only cost travel expenses and a greens fee. That’s got to be worth a $30 or $40 greens fee to someone. (I know those are relatively cheap greens fees, by the way. But there’s never any drought or much political unrest near idyllic seaside golf venues such as Pebble Beach Golf Links in California or St. Andrews in Scotland, where green fees can be more than $400.)

Sure, I can chalk up this seemingly unique ability to summon rain to the simple fact that thunderstorms, especially those of the pop-up variety, are not uncommon in South Carolina this time of year, especially in the afternoons when warm temperatures and high humidity do their tango.

But I can’t help but notice that it’s been months since I’ve been able to get a full 18 holes of golf into any round without getting drenched, regardless of the time of day.

This can’t be a coincidence.

This has to be a sign that if I can’t play golf, at least physically if not competently, the least I can do is embrace my power for the benefit of mankind, including the aforementioned animals and small children.

If I’m going to be elevated to superhero status, though, my costume wouldn’t have to be all that ornate. A polo shirt, Bermuda shorts, a golf bag slung over my shoulder and an umbrella at the ready, is all the costume I seem to need.