Josh Woods ~

Whenever I hear about people volunteering for backbreaking labor at a public disc golf course, I am struck by the same question: What’s wrong with these people?

Many disc golf courses are located outdoors. This fact alone should persuade even the most ardent do-gooder to avoid unpaid toil on a disc golf course. The natural world is a disorderly menace. At times, it may tempt you, like sea nymphs tempt sailors, to venture into it. But doing so for the sake of labor will surely end in monumental discomfort and regret.

More specifically, here are ten reasons to stop volunteering at your local disc golf course:

Using the term “workday” to refer to “Saturday” is the most inappropriate use of a synonym in the history of the English language.

“To labor is to pray,” said the Benedictines. What an irreligious bunch of hooey! Praying happens inside churches on Sunday. Pouring concrete on hole 6 on Sunday is where they came up with the phrase, “six ways from Sunday.”

Much of the vegetation on disc golf courses is weaponized. If you manage to sidestep the three leaves of the apocalypse, there is also poison sumac, poison oak, the infuriatingly painful yet invisible stinging nettles, the giant hogweed whose bright inviting flowers contain a chemical that produces a horrifying rash, itchy fingernails, diarrhea, mood swings, falling asleep while engaged in the activities of daily life, night terrors and blindness, and finally the manchineel, known to the Spanish as the “little apple of death,” which explodes upon contact with human flesh.

Most of nature’s gifts are something you don’t want to open around children. Short-tempered rattlesnakes, water moccasins, copperheads; belligerent wild boar; dire wolves; hunger-emboldened chipmunks. To appreciate the typical workday on a disc golf course, watch the documentary films The Birds, Cujo and Sharknado.

Pondering the prospect of voluntary labor, you may say to yourself, ‘this won’t be so bad.’ But deep down you know it will be. As Obi-Wan put it, “Be mindful of your thoughts, disc golfers.”

Some people think that Aristotle was a smart guy. “What is the essence of life?” asked this ignoble scribbler. “To serve others and to do good,” he wrote. What a doofus!

Offering career advice to a young underachiever, the late-great Judge Smails wisely remarked, “Well, the world needs ditch diggers, too.” My dear judge would have chuckled gleefully hearing of today’s disc golfers who dig ditches for free.

When I was a kid, I jumped off the garage with a beach umbrella. That was really stupid. I mean, seriously, don’t do that. But dumber still is working hard at something that others will do for you, if you just wait long enough. Remember, ask not what your disc golf club can do for you—ask what more your club can do for you.

In Shel Silverstein’s brilliant self-help book The Giving Tree, there’s a tree named Brenda who has a crush on a little boy. Evading her creepy advances for years, the boy finally cuts her down, builds a boat out of her and sails off on a Caribbean holiday. This is the only known case of a free tree removal making sense.

The Oxford American Dictionary defines disc golf do‑gooder as:

: a sad person who is annoyingly earnest and self-righteous

: someone who received daily wedgies in middle school

: that weird guy in the public library

: my sister who always makes me feel bad about how often I call my mom

Having successfully skipped a workday, you may experience a slight, albeit painful, sadness. It’s like stubbing your pinky toe on the kitchen table, only the pain occurs deep in your heart. But don’t worry. That goes away rather quickly.

So, next time your disc golf buddies plan a workday, just remember the hashtag: #CatchUpWithYouLater.