I don’t like Thursdays.

Thursday is of course the worst day of the week because you can taste the weekend but you’re still a full two days away. Those who consider Monday to be the worst day are inferior and superficial people who probably think that modern comedians are funny. Monday is of course not the best day but you are under no illusions that you deserve another weekend because you have just enjoyed one. Of course, if your weekends consist of you yelling at the local kids to get the hell off your lawn perhaps you’re justified in your shallowness.

This morning, this Thursday morning, I glanced at the news headlines to see the usual dose of depressing items masquerading as fake news, or was that fake news masquerading as truth? It’s hard to tell any more. An assortment of headlines from the front page of The Australian went as follows:

The Milli Vanilli of hate crimes, for some black actor who got caught faking a mugging from white Trump supporters. Actually, that one is rather amusing.

Cyclone closes in on Queensland coast. In Australia a cyclone is that we call a typhoon. Look it up. Cyclones are of course a normal feature of this time of year in that part of the world but I have no doubt that the article will be littered with claims of man having caused this tropical disturbance in the force and that we must sacrifice more of our hard earned wealth to the great climate gods who are presently flying around the world in private jet planes.

Speaking of which …

Qantas grounds plastic. Apparently no more plastic cups on Qantas flights, although I am not sure what the editor of that headline thinks that modern planes are made out of. Tin, perhaps? Maybe wood?

‘Model’ refugee’s drug charges. I have no more words.

Oh and there was one more little headline tucked away at the bottom of the page seeing as it wasn’t as important as plastic cups on planes …

Putin threatens to nuke US.

Ah, I see. Apparently the Russians have invented a new weapon called the doomsday torpedo, but to be honest that sounds like a good nickname for my old fella. So the world is about to end. This is not good news for me as today is chest day. The end of the world never happens on legs day.

The Other McCain has noticed the overwhelming surge of bad news as well.

The depravity and decadence to which Hunter S. Thompson was a witness at its inception has now become the New Normal. Every day, the headlines are filled with strange and savage tales of heinous things happening in places like Oldsmar, Florida, where just last week, a guy got arrested for having sex with a dog and posting the video online.

Putin nuking the US kind of pales into insignificance with that one. Apparently the wife caught him at it with Rover and then the two of them had a punch up. The husband and wife, I mean. I assume the dog just sat there wondering when they were going to get back to business.

It would be fitting that the end of the world would occur on a Thursday. If that happened I would be able to gloat how I was absolutely correct about which day was the worst day of the week. The only hiccup in that plan would be the complete absence of anyone around to listen to me. Let’s see how the day unfolds. If it all ends in a flash just make sure that the last thought you have was the knowledge that once again the old Adam was right.

11 thoughts on “I don’t like Thursdays.

  1. Al Jahom

    “Alright,” said Ford. “How would you react if I said that I’m not from Guildford after all, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?’ Arthur shrugged in a so-so sort of
    way.

    ‘I don’t know,” he said, taking a pull of beer. “Why – do you think it’s the sort of thing you’re likely to say?”

    Ford gave up. It really wasn’t worth bothering at the moment,
    what with the world being about to end. He just said:
    “Drink up.”

    He added, perfectly factually:

    ‘The world’s about to end.”

    Arthur gave the rest of the pub another wan smile. The rest of the pub frowned at him. A man waved at him to stop smiling at them and mind his own business.

    ‘This must be Thursday,” said Arthur musing to himself, sinking low over his beer, “I never could get the hang of Thursdays.”

    Like

    1. Post Alley Crackpot

      Then you shall have to move to Islington …

      Whereupon you may entice females with your Doomsday Torpedo within the environs of Laycock Street and Laycock Park. 🙂

      Walk down Upper Street a bit farther and you’ll come across the real and actual Hotblack Desiato (although not of the same provenance as “plutonium rockers” Disaster Area).

      And there’s the London Library, a mere snip at twelve thousand New Altairian Pounds for a lifetime membership at your age, wherein you can continue your research on our ongoing state of aimless decay by means of reading materials that are helping to further that cause …

      Islington is definitely your place to be. 🙂

      Like

  2. So if they get rid of plastic cups, what’s the alternative? Glass? Then hijackers can smash their cups into glass shards and use them as weapons.

    That’s it. No more beverages on airplanes.

    Like

  3. Post Alley Crackpot

    “It’s just another Manic Thursday …”

    Just doesn’t have the rhythm, does it?

    But you’d sing along, don’t deny it. 🙂

    “♫ … all of my life … ♫” HAHAHAHAHA YOU TRIED, DON’T DENY THAT EITHER.

    Also, you can’t be a Gonzo Journalist when everything is Gonzo now and it means nothing anymore.

    THERE’S GONZO IN YOUR SELF-CONGRATULATORY FACEBOOK

    THERE’S GONZO IN YOUR TWITTER BRAIN-FART MASTURBATIONS

    THERE’S GONZO IN YOUR SOUNDCLOUD RAPS OF UNFLINCHING UGLINESS

    THERE’S GONZO IN YOUR TUMBLR FULL OF MUGGIN’ IT AND THUGGIN’ IT

    THERE’S GONZO IN YOUR SELF-PROMOTING BLOG OF PERSONAL WHOREDOM

    THERE’S GONZO IN YOUR CHEESEBURGERS NOW THAT OLD BROAD ISN’T AROUND TO ASK “WHERE’S THE BEEF”, AND SO YOU GET MORE GONZO AND LESS BEEF

    Because everyone’s now trying to have the cool factor of a hotshot journo back in the day.

    But stick to the camera chicks, they’re working when they’re working and they’re good to go the rest of the time, and if any photos leak, at least they’ll be in focus.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.