What did Monday ever do to deserve the negative press it routinely gets? You’d think it insulted someone’s mother the way people denigrate it. Like Tuesday is so much better! Well guess what Tuesday: you’re no Friday!
Of course, Saturday laughs at the way Friday thinks it’s so cool. “Dude, most of your day is spent at work!”. Friday slinks away with a little squiggly line over its head, like a fuming comic book character. Friday is thinking, yeah, but that first beer of the weekend is the best beer of the weekend, and it happens on Friday. How ya like me now!
But don’t give Saturday that B.S. It’s well-aware that it enjoys favorite child status, with the most recent workweek firmly in the rearview mirror and the next one two days ahead.
Sunday likes to claim it owns the top spot in terms of popularity, but it fails to mention that a large portion of the world’s population wants to sleep in on Sunday but instead must drag their tired butts out of bed in order to stick them into church pews. “Rejoice!” the priests say, “For this is the day the Lord has made!” But frankly, these priests would prefer to be sleeping off their hangovers as well.
Thursdays elbow their way in with frothy tankards of ale, belching out claims that, in the 21st century, most weekends begin the day before Friday during Thursday’s Happy Hour. True, but given that you still must go to a job on Friday, all Thursday is doing is peddling headaches at work.
Not that anyone asked, but my thinking on the matter is rather conventional: Saturday is the best, followed by Friday, then Sunday, then Thursday, and from there backward until you get to Monday.
Planning to gather data to ascertain which day of the week has most global cloud cover to substantiate my assertion that God takes pleasure in raining on our Saturdays.
Nine months ago – maybe more like 10 – I was a gainful beer brewer, extracting sugars from malted barley like a champ, boiling down the resulting wort with some Belgian candi sugar and mild hops, crashing the sweet liquid’s temperature down to what is tolerable to a hungry, awakening yeast cell, and then pitching the yeast like a fireballer in the ninth.
Do you know how many brewing awards I won? None. That was part of my art: to win no awards while brewing award-caliber beer.
Then I decided to stop brewing for a bit to put an addition onto my house, and it’s as if the whole beer industry fell apart. I come back from my brewing hiatus to learn that Boston Homebrew Supply has shut down. Zounds! How is a fellow supposed to surreptitiously brew a beer while his wife, who doesn’t read this blog (I think), is in Chicago doing who-knows-what with people from work? “In a conference.” Ha! Probably brewing beer with the gals, secretly, as we all know that women are poised to take over everything, including beer brewing.
But anyway… where was I? Oh yeah, Boston Homebrew Supply and its proprietor, Tom Casey, are no longer. Well, Tom himself still likely exists, but his venture and its website are now history.
Alas, I am made to go to the Modern Homebrew Emporium in Cambridge, or get my grains delivered in the mail, thus burning more fossil fuels and foreshortening the survival of our species by some fraction of a day. But at least we’ll have beer as we lurch forward toward the abyss.
When are the Russians finally going to acknowledge that Venezuela is not in their hemisphere? Do we have to provide them with maps showing that it’s our hemisphere? The earth can be halved into infinite distinct hemispheres, but none of them are going to include both Russia and Venezuela without serious hemispherian Gerrymandering.
On the other hand, even my naked eye can easily see how all South America belongs in the US Hemisphere. So does Canada and our southern neighbor Mexico, where people are determined to pay for our border wall if it’s the last thing they do. So does all of Europe. Throw in Turkey and Africa and you’ve got the complete US hemisphere.
The Russian hemisphere is basically Asia and the Middle East, and we threw in Australia and New Zealand, kind of as afterthoughts. Antarctica is split 50-50, but don’t touch our penguins! US children have come to love penguins and it would really be a shame for the greatest children in the greatest hemisphere to lose even a single penguin to forces external to our hemisphere.
Next thing you know the Russians are going to try to interfere in our elections. At least we know that hasn’t happened yet.
Have asteroids been keeping you up at night? They’ve sure done a number on my sleep. I have several astrophysicists on retainer who specialize in asteroid behavior, and these highly-paid and therefore trusted confidants allege that a host of alien bodies are poised to break through our protective atmosphere and pummel us in the coming millenia, wrecking our progress.
Great, there goes my hope of getting a Jaguar! Thanks a lot, you damned, dirty asteroids! Now I have to find myself a Toyota Land Rover, with extra canisters for gasoline, so I can play the wild rover and go off road. Can’t do that in a Jaguar.
This all assumes I’m not in the path of the asteroid, as I’m told it will wreak havoc for thousands of miles. The good news is that I have Canadian citizenship and will not get stopped at the border if that’s the direction I try to head in. On the other hand, Mexico might keep me out.