Because  I’m currently indexed to the awful millstone of shift-work in a lockdown facility, my days off are . . . Um, and we say . . . “Calibrated.”

Wednesday and Thursday as the the crowing glory of a grueling eon of absorbing flagrant disrespect, stream-of-consciousness-and dubiously arhythmic gansta-rap tirades, and nefariously-stupid “rooting for the thug” during Cops reruns isn’t exactly the stuff that Loverboy would’ve used to conjure their leather-pantsed muse:

Nobody’s working for the Wednesday!
Nobody’s gunning for the mean!
Nobody’s running into Wednesday!
High rolling towards the in-between!

Just saying . . .