So, I'm sitting in the park enjoying my $5 foot long with chips and drink. (I like how the cute little ESL chick at my local Subway spits out the meal offer as one word: "Chipzandrink?" I cannot resist. "Sure, chipzandrinkpleez!") So, I'm answering the question What Would Jared Do? when a pesky bird starts hopping around my table just waiting for me to feed it.
I'm sick of its bouncing around, so to get rid of it I make the mistake of tossing a chip away from the table thinking he'll go after it. The chip never even made it to the ground. The little bugger swooped, caught it in his beak, and was off. This is where the trouble began.
WARNING: If you are in a park DO NOT throw any object that is food, food-like or could be misconstrued as food by any animal with a brain smaller than a peanut!
I was immediately swarmed by all manners of fowl. Pigeons are popping up from behind trash cans, robins are flocking from the trees, the ducks and geese from the pond are flying my way. There were woodpeckers, finches, and crows. I think I even saw a fucking Fluffy-Backed Tit- Babbler! It looked like something staged by Hitchcock.
So, within seconds, I am sitting in a sea of feathers all strutting and cooing "Hey, you got any food? Wanna' give us some food? We saw you give that other bird some food. Why don't you give us some food, too? We like food. Hey, is that food? Why don't you give us some? Come on, be cool. Give us some food, man. Don't hold out on us. Give Us The Fucking Food!"
So, I slowly (for fear of being pecked to death or shat upon en masse) wrapped my food, got up, and made my way to my car where I finished my lunch behind rolled-up windows and locked doors.
All of this made me wonder: What about downtown pigeons? They hang out Monday through Friday and get fed by all the office employees on their lunch breaks. But what happens on the weekends? Pigeons don't know it's the weekend. They don't have clocks or calendars, at least not that I know of. If they do, I need to get into that market because there's tons of customers. Of course, pigeons probably don't make a lot of money which is why they live on the street. So, nix that business idea.
Back to the original conceit, though. Do pigeons get into a habit of around 11 A.M. everyday thinking "Food! Food! Free food! The people sitting by the reflecting pool here give us free food!" And sure enough, Monday through Friday, it's an all-you-can-eat buffet. Then Saturday comes along, 11 A.M. rolls around, and all the pigeons are like "WTF?!" It must confuse the hell out of them.
Of course, they're probably pleasantly surprised to no end when Monday comes and the pigeon- feeders return. " Hey, look! It's those guys with the food! They're back!" Maybe this weekend you should go downtown and feed some pigeons. Yes, YOU, the one reading this post. I sure as hell ain't gonna' go feed the little rats with wings.
All this fowl confusion is because man had to cook up "the week." The 7-day week is the only idea of time above an hour that has no physical determination in nature. A day is the amount of time it takes for the Earth to make a complete turn on its axis. Months are determined by the cycles of the moon. And a year is the (approximate) amount of time it takes for our planet to revolve around the sun.
So what would happen if we did away with the week? How would human development change? No more Mondays or Fridays or any other day except for to-day. Would we shift our way of thinking toward months just to keep some semblance of cyclical routine? Would single digit days receive the dread that was once particular to Mondays? Would we coin the phrase T.G.I.the 27th? Would the ides become the new hump day?
What do you think? Can we finally get rid of the week? I'm sure the pigeons would be much happier. Won't someone please think of the pigeons?