The Case of Banning Thursdays
In a world already teetering on the edge of exhaustion, climate anxiety, rising prices, and the crushing weight of small talk at corporate holiday parties, it is time we address one of humanity’s most overlooked crises: the continued existence of Thursdays.
OPINION
The Audacity
9/17/20254 min read


In a world already teetering on the edge of exhaustion, climate anxiety, rising prices, and the crushing weight of small talk at corporate holiday parties, it is time we address one of humanity’s most overlooked crises: the continued existence of Thursdays. For centuries, Thursdays have loitered in the middle of the calendar, providing neither the hopeful beginnings of a week nor the satisfying end of one. They are a day without an identity, a beige waiting room between Wednesday’s resignation and Friday’s fragile optimism. It is long past due that we, as a society, take action. We must ban Thursdays.
To some, this may sound extreme. But consider the facts. Mondays, though universally loathed, at least have the courtesy of being definitive. They are the day when life rudely restarts, coffee is consumed intravenously, and everyone silently contemplates moving to the woods. Wednesdays, “hump days,” have achieved a strange cultural reverence, celebrated for being halfway through the ordeal. Fridays, of course, are beloved, carrying the sweet promise of weekend reprieve. Even Saturdays and Sundays, while burdened with laundry and family obligations, serve an essential function as cultural release valves. But Thursdays? They are the kid in the group project who shows up with nothing but an empty backpack and a shrug.
There is no Thursday identity. No Thursday joy. No Thursday purpose. It is a day that merely exists to waste everyone’s time.
The Psychological Toll of Thursdays
Researchers at the University of Nowhere (funded entirely by a GoFundMe campaign titled “Make Science Funny Again”) found that worker morale plummets by nearly 63% on Thursdays compared to other weekdays. Why? Because Thursday is the day when you realize the week has been too long already but somehow refuses to end. Wednesday whispers, “We’re halfway there.” Friday sings, “Freedom is coming.” Thursday mutters, “Not yet, fool.”
It is the gaslighting day. The “Are we there yet?” of time itself. A cruel, temporal prank.
Ask yourself: has anyone, in the history of humanity, ever said, “I can’t wait for Thursday”? No. Birthdays on Thursdays are rescheduled to Saturday. Holidays skip them entirely. Even Thanksgiving has the decency to masquerade as “special Thursday” because it knows Thursdays are otherwise worthless.
The Economic Burden
The corporate world has tried, time and again, to monetize Thursdays, only to fail spectacularly. “Thirsty Thursdays” in college towns? Nothing more than a desperate attempt to pretend Thursday isn’t a sad knockoff Friday. Flash sales? You’ll find them on Wednesdays or Fridays. Thursday discounts? Nonexistent, because even capitalism understands Thursdays generate no joy worth exploiting.
In fact, a leaked report from the Bureau of Bureaucratic Studies (a department nobody can quite locate) revealed that Thursdays cost the global economy trillions in lost productivity. Workers spend most of Thursday Googling “Is tomorrow Friday?” or staring at the clock so hard that time itself feels personally insulted. Meetings held on Thursdays stretch longer, discussions go in circles, and all action items are quietly postponed to “next week.” In short: Thursdays are the black hole of professional ambition.
Cultural Evidence
Thursdays appear nowhere significant in history. Mondays birthed revolutions, Tuesdays elections, Fridays long weekends, Saturdays music festivals, and Sundays—at least—Super Bowls. Thursdays? What cultural contributions can they claim? The premiere of Must See TV in the 1990s? Congratulations, Thursday, you hosted Friends. That’s it. Your résumé is thinner than the plot of a daytime soap.
Even religion avoids Thursdays. Friday prayers, Sunday services, Saturday Sabbaths—Thursday gets nothing but a polite nod. In Norse mythology, “Thor’s Day” was supposed to give Thursday gravitas, but somewhere along the way it got lost between Marvel movies and underwhelming thunderstorms.
Proposed Alternatives
Eliminating Thursday would free up humanity in ways we cannot yet fully imagine. The week would shrink to six days, productivity would spike, and morale would soar. Wednesdays would finally lead directly into Fridays, a seamless transition from despair to euphoria.
“But what about the calendar?” skeptics ask. “What happens to the days?” Easy. We redistribute. Wednesdays get a little longer, Fridays get slightly earlier, and the weekend expands like a satisfied cat. International Time Committees (which are very real and extremely boring) would rejoice at the chance to finally feel relevant.
Workplaces could slash Thursday meetings, schools would no longer host surprise pop quizzes on a day nobody wanted to be alive, and social planners would have one less awkward evening to fill with half-hearted happy hours.
Addressing the Critics
Of course, there are dissenters. There always are. “What about Thanksgiving?” they cry. To which I reply: Thanksgiving was never about Thursday. It was always about turkey, passive-aggressive comments from relatives, and pretending to like cranberry sauce. We can simply rebrand it as “Pre-Weekendgiving.” Crisis averted.
Some cling to nostalgia, insisting Thursdays are fine. But nostalgia is a liar. These are the same people who claim they “miss Blockbuster Video” or “enjoy kale.” Their opinions are invalid.
The strongest resistance, unsurprisingly, comes from the Thursday Lobby, a shadowy cabal of calendar manufacturers, Thursday-born Geminis, and the International Association of Midweek Office Donut Distributors. Their campaign, “Keep Thursday Alive,” has already launched poorly attended rallies in three different strip mall parking lots. But public support remains firmly against them. A recent poll conducted on a Wednesday afternoon found that 94% of respondents would gladly sacrifice Thursday if it meant Fridays arrived faster.
The Bigger Picture
This is more than just about one day. Eliminating Thursday is about reclaiming control over our collective lives. Too long have we been shackled by the arbitrary seven-day cycle, a system invented by ancient civilizations who didn’t even have Netflix. Why should we, modern beings with smartphones and kombucha, be forced to endure the tyranny of a day that adds nothing?
Banning Thursdays would mark a bold step forward in human history, akin to landing on the moon or finally admitting that “reply all” should be illegal. It would show future generations that we were brave enough to question even the most mundane institutions.
And when that glorious first Thursday-less week arrives, humanity will awaken on a Friday, refreshed, unburdened, and ready to embrace life anew.
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