(7th day – 2018)
Sunday Morning, also known as the morning before the day the Dallas Cowboys lose, died last week when I woke up at 6:40 am to head out to the Greenwood Sports Facility for my daughter’s 8 o’clock kickball tournament only to have to forfeit when not enough players showed up.
Sunday mornings will be remembered as being the best time to keep our left fielder stuck in First Communion class or for mega-church pastors to indoctrinate people lacking the resolve to join a real cult. Ironically, Sunday Mornings were first recognized as bullshit by God himself and absolutely nobody worth mentioning will be mourning this particular Morning.
For years Sunday Morning has lived in obscurity from millions of hung-over and/or atheist Americans and now it has faded away just like my daughter’s chances for a trophy.
It is survived by Monday Morning – hanging on by a thread, and also the Sunday afternoon lunch rush at Golden Corral where we should have been celebrating had we not been eliminated so early.
Upcoming Sunday night viewing parties for Game of Thrones and/or The Walking Dead will not be affected, however the LGBT community has postponed all super-gay Sunday brunches until further notice.
From now on, I’ll be sleeping through you, Sunday Morning, while you take a dirt nap.
You’re dead to me.