So some clown who calls himself a golf fan threw a hot dog at Tiger Woods.

Wow. Who knew a wiener-wielding wacko would ever make the news for attempting an assault, especially at a PGA golf tournament.

But sure enough, when Woods was lining up a putt during last week’s Fry’ Open at CordeValle Golf Club in San Martin, Calif., his concentration was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a yelling man and a flying frank. Never mind that the guy was tackled and arrested by security personnel who acted as if he was carrying a handgun instead of a hot dog, just the fact that he bought his “weapon” at a concession stand is worthy of noting.

For crying in the mud, things get stranger by the moment, and I guess culinary terrorism is the new kid on the what-to-worry-about block.

Doug Davison

Doug Davison

Maybe professional golfers should carry packages of brats with them on tournament days, in case it becomes the norm to have to defend themselves against crazed gallery members armed with deli selections.

For that matter, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for all of us to consider keeping a chicken biscuit close by at all times. I guess you never know when some rampaging adversary is going to go ninja on you with a baloney sandwich.

And hey, fighting fire with fire might be best in this case.

To me, the ramifications of this guy’s weird attack could be far reaching. It really makes you wonder whether presidential hopefuls like Herman Cain and Mitt Romney shouldn’t deliver speeches from behind plexiglass barriers that would offer protection from sailing sausage and soaring salmon. Perhaps they should even employ helmets to guard against being crunched by crullers or bopped by bagels.

For that matter, maybe everyone who spends even a moment in the public eye should take appropriate measures to deal with potential oatmeal onslaughts or blintz blitzes. It’s either that or be a sitting duck for a jello bomb.

While I’ve never actually tossed salad at someone, I’m not going to pretend I’ve never had the urge. There has been a time or two when I wanted to huck a hamburger at a deserving target, but I’ve always stopped short of serving up a feta fastball and have yet to hurl any form of edible organic matter at anyone.

At this point, I’m just hoping food flinging doesn’t become some sort of epidemic, and that common sense-challenged humanoids don’t start competing to see who’s king of the penne-pitching mountain.

But regardless of where we go from here with regard to wiener weaponry and the like, there’s a lesson to be learned by all of us in the golf course wiener-wielder’s actions. Basically, we can no longer take for granted that we won’t be cold cocked by a salami sub as we go about our daily routines, and we best keep our guards up lest our worlds be rocked by a spinach souffle.

The time is nigh to accept the fact that a Twinkie is not to be taken lightly when in the wrong hands, and a foot-long Hormel can represent 12-inches of real trouble.

By the same token, wiener-wielder wannabes be warned: the law is not on your side and launching lunchmeat could be your ticket to an indoor facility with lots of steel where food is rarely, if ever, airborne.

I’m now waiting for the day someone takes exception to something I write and instead of responding with an angry letter to the editor, just shows up at the Herald office and lobs a sloppy joe my way as I toil at my computer station. But after taking stock of the golf course wiener-wielder’s efforts, I realize what the possibilities are and I’m now mentally and physically prepared to handle the worst a cheese Danish can deliver.

Bring it on.

I’ve got a fresh yeast roll, and I’m not afraid to use it.

Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and advertising representative for the Houston Herald. Past versions of his column can be seen on the blog page at Email: