The weather’s getting hot, college students returning home, tornados just missing, and all the damn bugs.  That’s right Pawnee Prairie Days is approaching!  For some, this is something that has been simply outgrown over the years.  To those some that have made this assumption, what the fuck is wrong with you?  Maybe you’ve got the wrong mindset going in.  If you venture into this thinking you’re going to have a great time, you’ve already lost.  You’ve got to go in with that voice in your head stating, “Why the hell am I going to Prairie Days?”  Everyone should be hearing this voice, unless you’re an eight year old or Robbie Robison, who yearns to handle countless hot dogs ever so gently at the Boy Scout food tent, hoping to make his millionth sale and that the hot dogs will turn into dicks for his own private pleasure.  We know he’ll give a hundred and ten percent.  The answer to the question voiced in your head will be configured as
the night progresses and the booze loosens up the crowd.  You can literally stand in one spot, look in every direction, and laugh your ass off at the amount of hilarious atrocities going on all around you.
Now that Darin Schultz lives in Denver, CO, the amount of drunken pedophilic activity has decreased 60%, but the other 40% is still looming in the eyes of some, such as Matt Glenn, who’s seemingly never ending passion for riding around the streets of P-town is dormant only during Prairie Days weekend.  As history has told, it will rain on one of the three days, which is the length of Prairie Days, which will force you into one of two choices.  One, go home and end the journey, try to resist, or the two, venture into “The Dirty”.  This nickname for the My Way Pub is quickly confirmed.  A bar built to house fifty patrons semi comfortably is crammed with over a hundred, filling the air with the aroma of a mix between a Mike Sandage dingle berry and nut sack.  Yes, this will certainly be uncomfortable at first, but worth it for the comedy relieve waiting to be performed.  Out of the hundred plus in the bar, 40% or better are blatantly underage.
It’s not even a question for some.  Last year, I saw an eight year old perched on a bar stool like he’d been there for years.  He even bought me a shot with what “milk money” he had left, or White Russian money is more like it.  I asked him after the Three Wisemen shot was but an aftertaste what year he was in school, 2nd grade, and what his best subject was, “Not shitting my pants!”  he screamed enthusiastically.  Impressively awesome.  The underage hijinks is just one of many forms of entertainment in The Dirty.
Have you ever witnessed anyone with “Cool” in front of their name get tossed out of a bar.  It surprisingly doesn’t happen as often as it should, but this is in the official record books of shit that will happen at The Dirty.  Prairie Days attracts visitors from around the globe, well, a twenty mile radius anyway.  90% of these “outsiders” will be thrown out of the bar, mostly due to their own stupidity.  This is the category that “Cool” Brandon was in.  Here’s a tip, if you don’t want to get fucked with in The Dirty, know someone that frequents there.  However, there is one exception to this rule.  If the one person you know is Farooq, DON”T GO INTO THE BAR!  Knowing Farooq is a social bullseye for getting fucked with.  This was confirmed while this Brandon character was actually airborne and Farooq in the background screaming, “No, this is ‘Cool’ Brandon,” saying the word cool louder so that everyone would know he’s ok and not to throw him out.  Well, Farooq saying the word ‘cool’ pretty much just fuels everyone else’s need to to throw this guy out faster and harder, as this ups the chance that Farooq will go with him, stopping the bumming money off everyone and the breaking of shit that constantly plaques the Arabian Knight.  Don’t get me wrong, Farooq’s one of my best friends, but let’s be honest here.  Tell me I’m wrong!  The Dirty also doubles as a base of operations for terrorizing carnies, led by one man whose hatred for carnies runs deep, Mike Salisbury.  On any of the three nights of Prairie Days, you must pass Mike screaming at these carnies in order to get into the bar.  He hates them so much and it’s damn funny to witness.
We could talk about the antics that occur in The Dirty for days, but there are other areas of hilarity that need to be addressed.  A main attraction of comedy is defiantly the monstrosity that is the musical performances.  I could sum it up in one statement:  Ray Lytle for four years in a row! I could stop there and that would five you an idea of the “talent” that Prairie Days features for their musical entertainment, but I won’t, and I shouldn’t!  Ray Lytle!?! I laughed for days after the shock wore off when I heard someone say, “Alright!  Ray Lytle’s gonna be at Prairie Day’s. “This person obviously was a douche.  Ray Lytle and his Itchy Pickles are a travesty of musical justice for entertainment.  Now I know I don’t have to go and witness their shitty renditions of once great songs, but on the contrary my friend.  I wouldn’t miss it!  Watching this disgustingly obese grown man act like he’s a legend of rock in ninety degree weather is revolting, sad, and shit your pants funny.  Sad is defiantly the head lining word to describe a Ray Lytle show.  Very sad indeed.  Aside from Ray Lytle, numerous 80’s hair bands have come and gone.  There have been so many fifty-year-old men rockin out in black leather vests and puffy pirate shirts that I’ve lost count.  All of them take it so seriously that it makes it hard to laugh in their face because it’s so funny.  The most recent 80’s hair band to be a main stay are The Lost Boys.  What can be better than seeing the actual bands play their music while all coked up than seeing a cover band play other peoples music while all coked up.  That’s the Lost Boys, a bunch of coked up early thirties dudes rockin out the 80’s hits while snorting, sweating, and doing pelvic thrusts in the direction of ten year old girls.  Meanwhile, the sweet sound of the 80’s has put its spell upon all the moms in the crowd, causing the dance floor to be flooded with “mom dancing”.  This type of dance necessitates several vital ingredients.  First and most importantly, booze.  Second, full use of one’s hips for the hips are the bread and butter of the mom dance.  Lastly, but not to be forgotten, the burning passion for 80’s rock.  These three simple ingredients mixed together make one hell of a show.  It seems almost hypnotizing when it first starts to happen.  You don’t know when it’s coming and there is no clear sign it’s about to happen.  When that first group of moms glides to the dance floor, probably three or four, you can’t help but stare.  It’s amazing!  They have two moves.  The circling hip shake, sticking out the beer and put the opposite hand up, or the step forward and back, beer close to the side, opposite hand doing almost a hammering motion, both showing incredible passion.  Before you realize it, the dance floor is full with not just moms, but everyone.  The moms have lured everyone onto the dance floor with their blatant disregard of humiliation, which is synonymous with dancing.  If the moms don’t dance, no one dances, PERIOD!
All in all, it’s a good time.  Sure there are rides, carnival food and all the games, but the comedy alone is worth the voyage.  You can only play the throwing darts and the balloons game so many times before you’re turned off for life.  Even the rides are boring, who could imagine that, after about eleven years of the same ones (Brad, you and me, Heart Flip).  The food is good; I’ll give you that.  Nothing’s tastes better than pure grease and powdered sugar, or anything on a stick.  The humor though is what brings them back, year after year.  If it’s not funny to you, why the fuck are you at Prairie Days sober?  Kelly has invented the Casey’s cup special.  Just go get a cup from Casey’s and fill it with the booze of your choice and drink it up!  There’s so many Casey’s cups floating around the Pawnee popo won’t even sense suspicion.  It’s not like there going to huge lengths to keep from bringing their own alcohol anyway.  The beers that are bought at the beer tent are just the 12oz Bud/Bud Light cans (I don’t acknowledge Miller Lite).  For you underagers though, Casey’s cup spech it up, unless you’re already in the bar doing shots of Three Wisemen and not shitting yourself (I got next one Billy).  So I hope I have convinced you to attend this year’s Pawnee Prairie Days, it won’t feature one Brad Cox in the Mr. Hottie contest, but it’ll be a classic.  Let me know how it goes for you too, cuz I ain’t going to that fuckin gay shit. Oh, beware the fingerless gloves!