For this issue I've decided to go solo. I have not run out of a supply of friends or killed them
off in a vicious power struggle to control the coveted voice of the entertainment section.
Rather, I have decided to write a more focused column in order to enhance reader enjoyment
to it's full potential while keeping the same freestyle value that Welchy and Friends brought to
you.
Have you ever wondered what to do on a Saturday night? Well I have, and I bet I'm not the
only one. I'm sure many of you out there have sat with friends on a weekend night trying to
puzzle out what to do in Marshfield, Wisconsin, only to look up at the clock and discover that
you have to be home in ten minutes.
I for one know the feeling that you get when, instead of being able to go out with friends to a
worthwhile movie or some other exciting activity, you end up at home all alone reading I Was
a Teenage Professional Wrestler or Choose Your Own Adventure number 71, Space Vampire.
I know that everyone complains about having nothing to do, especially in Marshfield. It may
sound cliche to talk about what there isn't to do here, but what exactly is there to do in
Marshfield? Let's take a look.
Go to a movie. Even if you don't feel like going to a movie, you feel like going to a movie. It's
an unexplainable phenomenon. Somehow you get to the theater, watch two hours of some
predictable predigested plot-line, and end up naked and dazed in a dumpster outside of the
theater as if you had just tested a new Mach 3 razor from Gillette. The worst part about it is
that you emptied your change jar the night before to go to the movie and now you have no
money to buy CD's. Well...maybe that's just me, but I'm sure you can relate.
Go muddin'. Never mind.
Go Reflectioneering. Strap on your gas mask and get ready to party. If you enjoy hours of
non-stop entertainment, which involves sitting, smoking, or trying to talk to your friends above
the noise, and would like to pay for this opportunity, then Reflections is the place for you.
Rent a movie. Same experience as going to a movie, except that usually homes have trash cans
instead of dumpsters, which is much more uncomfortable. Really, buy large trash receptacles
if you have the chance.
Go cruisin'. If everyone is doing it, it must be fun. There has to be a reason for the popularity
of cruising. My guess is that it is hidden deep within the biological drives of our animal
selves. Maybe this drive goes back to our days as hunter-gatherers.
Picture this: I am looking for a possible mate, I go out on a Saturday night, I take my truck, a
sure symbol of my virility if ever there was one. The bigger the truck the more mates I can
attract, I drive around for a couple hours in hopes of attracting a mate. Exciting, no?
Go cow-tipping. I thought that I would include this in order to clarify something that I myself
have just learned about: cows don't get up. When you tip them they stay tipped. This can be
harmful to the cow. Here's an idea that's much safer and can be done in the privacy of your
own home. It's a little game which, I am proud to say, I thought up myself: dog-tipping.
There's less danger to the animal, less feces for you to step in, and it's less strenuous, so even
kids can play.
Whatever you decide to do, just make sure that it's legal.
