Mondays should be Fun Days

Bl'reader,

I want to draw your thinking machines back to a more peaceful time.
1996. I was in sixth or seventh grade (depending on which time of the year you were drawn back to) and as far as I was concerned the most important thing in life was making sure I had bellbottom Jnco jeans. This would ensure a nirvanic state wherein all member of my middle school class would declare me to be the quinessential of cool.
It was time when my favorite cartoon was "Doug".
Do you know "Doug", Bl'reader?
It was Nick at its best. I don't mean me. I mean the television channel. "Pete and Pete", "Hey Dude", "Salute Your Shorts, "Ren and Stimpy", "Roundhouse" - the list could go on for three more lines, but I'll stop it. It was children's TV at its finest. There were no stars. No Miley Cyruses (Miley Cyrii?) that cast the network in a shadow to her own atomic fame. I wanted no Miley Cyrii at that point in my life. I wanted to see a dog and cat (and maybe a wallabee) make crude adult references that I didn't understand, I wanted to see fart jokes by an actor in a motorized recliner, I wanted suburban philosophy concerning middle class myths by two brothers with the same first name.
This was my Odyssey, my Decameron, my Inferno. Now we have "The Suite Life" with those two twins that I think should be cast from television reality.
But "Doug", bl'reader. That's what I wanted to talk about.
"Doug" was a cartoon about my life: a frustrated 5th - 6th grader just trying to get by in a world of Roger Klotzes and longing for a date with Patti Mayonnaise. It was adolescent frustration at its best. I identified with Doug Funnie. I was Doug Funnie.
Bl'reader, there's one episode that has never left my brain folds. It's one in which Doug's imaginary alter-ego Quail Man is able to create an extra day in the week. He attaches it to the weekend and names it Fun Day.

Bl'reader, there's no reason we can't do this today. After all, our calendar has been so capricious throughout history. There were once 7 months, later we added the other 5 and called it a year. God may have created the world in 7 days, but that doesn't mean a week must stop at just the same.
I propose an 8 day week. Work for 5 days to keep the Protestant work ethic strong, but 3 days of weekend. Imagine what you could do in 3 days.
You could write a novel.
You could form a band.
You could file taxes for your dog (why would you want to file taxes for your dog? It doesn't matter. The point is you could do it with a 3-day weekend.)
I could finally send a letter to the president asking him to give the contraction "Y'all" national recognition allowing teachers throughout the world the ability to teach this in their grammar classes (as it should be).
Yes, we won't have as many days in the year.
So?
What could we do with an 8 day week? Ask yourself this (I am).

Why, there will be some people that say, "Look at all the work I can get done in 8 days."
Let them do it, bl'reader.
All I know is that it will add an extra layer of relevance to our entertainment tab, "8 Days A Week".

We don't have to do it right away, but I say consider the possibilities. I think now is the perfect time to do it. With the mantra of change emanating from our Commander in Chief, this is an environment ripe for this calendar adjustment.
It could happen, bl'reader.

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