Poets and popular songwriters hate Wisconsin, because nothing rhymes with “Wisconsin.” Well, “Steve Monson,” who was this guy we went to junior high with. Steve Monson was big for his age, and always sweaty. We helped him with his math homework, because he just couldn’t get the hang out of how numbers work. He seriously thought eight came before five, and that six was a letter. And this was like, pre-algebra, so now x and y weren’t just letters but numbers also, and Steve Monson just could not understand. He’d stare at the blackboard, sweating, his mouth agape (always mouth agape, Steve Monson. Always), his eyes all squinty while he wheezed ever-so-softly.
We’re not sure what happened to Steve Monson after seventh grade. It probably involved sweating, and that’s everything you need to know about Wisconsin.