Commenter Clarence Swamptown checks in with his delightful weekly feature sure to put a smile on your face during these sad times. He sent us an e-mail about 30 minutes ago wondering if we should hold off on his usual revelry in light of the very sad Harmon Killebrew news. We decided the show must go on. As usual, the opinions expressed on CC -- particularly about local golf courses -- do not necessarily reflect those of the Star Tribune or RandBall. Clarence? -------------

Someday I will tell you all the story of how I became convinced that the Atlanta Thrashers would be relocating to Winnipeg this year. The story is 100 percent true, and like most stories it involves my brother-in-law getting the flu, me getting drunk, and an unnamed member of the Minnesota Wild. In the meantime, let's celebrate the fact that the Wild is one step closer to reuniting with its old Norris Division rivals. Michael Russo seems to think the reunion won't happen until after next season. As long as it happens eventually, I am fine with that. These West Coast Twins games that end at midnight are a great reminder of how much Wild games on a Tuesday night in Edmonton can stink.

*Just How Stupid is Clarence Swamptown? If stupidity were an overmatched major league baseball player, I would be Drew Butera. So let's resurrect the popular "Just How Stupid is Clarence Swamptown" feature: Last weekend was our local high school prom. Seeing those kids all dressed up reminded me of my first high school dance, and how stupid I have always been. My first high school dance was on a fall day in 1990. I dreaded that day. I was 14 years old and painfully shy. My buddies were equally cruel. I was terrified of talking to girls -- and even more terrified of their rejection — but I HAD to ask a girl to dance or my buddies would mock me endlessly. I was stuck. I was {redacted} stuck. I sat in the corner of the high school gym in my rolled and pinned Dockers, mulling over my dance partner options. I could increase my chances of success by asking a less popular girl, but if a nerdy girl said no I would REALLY get teased. I could ask a popular girl in hopes of hitting a home run with my first swing, but why would a popular girl say yes to a dork like me? Like I said, I was stuck. I needed a miracle… My high school was located in a Twin Cities outer-ring suburb, and during the early 1990s our town saw a large influx of Hmong refugees. These hard-working immigrants were drawn by the abundance of rich farmland and close proximity to the downtown farmers markets, but my teenage mind was blind to the socio-economic troubles facing these people. All I knew was that fate had somehow brought an immigrant's daughter named Lyn to my first high school dance. Fate had smiled on me that day. Lyn was my miracle. I recognized Lyn from my history class. She did not speak a word of English, and upon realizing this a light bulb went off in my young stupid head: Lyn just might meet all of the first-dance partner requirements I was looking for. Was she hot? Check. Was she prematurely, uh, "developed?" Double check. Was she remarkably friendly and unable to say no? Check and mate. (She was also unable to say yes, but let's not get bogged down by semantics). A HOT GIRL WHO CAN'T SPEAK ENGLISH IS THE PERFECT CANDIDATE CLARENCE, YOU {REDACTED}-{REDACTED} GENIUS. As Sebastian Bach belted out the opening line to I Remember You, I timidly approached Lyn with my outstretched hand. At first she looked confused, but then she smiled. She took my hand and we danced. I don't remember any details about the dance. I don't remember if I thanked her when it was done, or if I ran away like a scared little wuss. But I remember perfectly that feeling of somehow dodging my insecurities AND the ridicule from my jerk friends, all because of an idea that could only be conceived by a stupid and shy 14 year old dork. Sometimes it pays to be a stupid loser. *Country & Western Song of the Week: I Remember You, acoustic. *Outstate Golf Course of the Week: Now that the weather is getting warmer, nothing beats a Sunday afternoon on the golf course drinking beer with your buddies. Nobody is better at golfing and drinking beer than everyday dentist and occasional RandBall commenter pr2005. He continues his series of outstate golf course reviews with a trip to northwest Minnesota. As always, I'll ask the questions and pr2005 will provide the answers: Please describe the course: The OSGCotW is the Wildflower Golf Course in Detroit Lakes, MN. This course is awesome. It has a nice blend of open links style play, combined with holes that are carved between the trees. Joel Goldstrand designed this course with bent grass fairways and well manicured greens right next to Pelican Lake. Who is Joel Goldstrand? He is the architect who designed the masterful 27 holes at the Pines in Nisswa, the Links at Northfork in Ramsey, and Bunker Hills in Coon Rapids. He also designed Southern Hills in Farmington and Heritage Links in Lakeville, but nobody is perfect. [Proprietor note: We have played both of those courses and have to disagree. They are perfectly delightful. To each their own]. Please describe the signature hole: The 18th hole is a downhill par 5 that has a large landing area 200 to 300 yards out. If you can get a big drive off (275 to 300 yards) the green is reachable with a mid-iron. The green is downhill from your second or third shot, but it's narrow and guarded by bunkers and trees. I was able to take a run at this par 5 in two, but had to pick my ball up on the green and was unable to finish. Why, you ask? Killer bees? Meteorite strike? Nope. The old man had to run to the bathroom and we only had one cart. Apparently cheep beer, Jag shots and a 20-piece box of Chicken McNuggets do not mix well in a 60 year old stomach. More importantly, please describe the beer cart girls: We teed off at 6:15 am and finished 18 holes at around 8:45am. There were no women awake at this time of day, at least not the kind that you're thinking of. Do they have a website? Yes, a very nice website. Can I bring my own beer? I wouldn't advise it, because they check your cart at hole #1. Clarence, I know you like to sneak beer into your bag. Just don't forget to take them out after the round (assuming you have any left). There's nothing worse than finding a beer in your bag 3 months later, and I know you'll still drink it even if it's been festering all day at 120 degrees. Do I have to wear a shirt? I'm pretty sure you do. Anything else I should know? 18 holes is only $29?! You're kidding me! Oh, wait. That's for walking only. {Redacted} that. [Clarence's note: Thanks for the wonderful review, pr2005.] *Whiteout Proposal: If you've been watching this year's NBA playoffs, like I haven't, you may have noticed the goofy "Whiteout" t-shirt phenomenon sweeping the league. At the arena entrance teams are handing out white t-shirts to fans in hopes of creating a unified fan base and intimidating the visitors. The Memphis Grizzlies did it. So did Oklahoma City. Miami did too. This "Whiteout" t-shirt gimmick is certainly worn-out and stale, but so are your Minnesota Twins. Last season the Minnesota Twins finished with a home record of 53-28. This season they are 4-11. This is getting ridiculous. Something needs to be done. I hereby propose a "Whiteout" for the next Minnesota Twins home game. But rather than handing out white t-shirts, let's put our pre-summer pasty white skin to good use. On May 23rd, 2011 at Target Field: NOBODY WEARS A SHIRT AT ALL. This includes men, women, grounds crew, squirrels, Robby Incmikoski, et al. NOBODY wears a shirt. Feel free to paint the Twins logo or Circle Me Bert or the name of your favorite player on your chest, but let's white this {redacted}-{redacted} out. Let's see if a good ol' fashioned topless baseball game can change the Twins' luck.

Your thoughts on high school dances, Wildflower, and shirtless Polish-Americans are welcome in the comments below. [Initial stomach Paint rendering by Clarence; additional rendering of white smear/former Target Field spruce trees by the Proprietor].