P.O.E.T.S. Day! That One I Still Remember From Second Grade Or Whatever!

“One bright day in the middle of the night…”

A lot of you of a certain age and Catholic education will recognize that line from a poem. It was required curriculum, at least in my diocese growing up and I doubt there was much variation reaching outward.

It’s a stupid poem to anyone with an ounce of sense, but kids have nothing approaching such. I memorized this ditty almost forty years ago and still remember it. There wasn’t even an assignment to learn it. I just loved it. So did my friends and we’d race through it by rote, trying to see who couldn’t recite it quickly and then descend on that poor child like those bat eared things from Galaxy Quest that were out for Guy’s blood. But that was the early eighties: stupid funny poems, lawn darts, pit bulls, and Africanized honey bees. Kristy McNichols though… dude. There was an upside.

So it’s P.O.E.T.S. Day!

Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday! Get your ass out of work. Lie, cheat, steal, fake minor (don’t go overboard or there will be required explanations) injuries. I don’t think pit bulls or killer bees are going to work but a lawn dart injury to a near relative is pretty special and not outside the realm of possibilities. If there’s a temptation to lie to the higher ups by pretending you need to leave for a date with McNichols I’m in your corner and so would most people that remember Madonna’s debut album, but it’s been a long time since Little Darlings. Know your audience.

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P.O.E.T.S. Day! Byron, and No, I Won’t Concede to Call Him Lord

I won’t call him Lord because of this painting.

File:Byron 1813 by Phillips.jpg

He looks like a goof – a runner up on Star Search goof. This is the first superstar? That’s no Lord.

I almost forgot the required stuff. Back to the goof in a sec.

It’s P.O.E.T.S. Day! Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday! Get thee from thy workplace verily!

You can’t help but see all before you covered in blood and random Lego pieces. Obviously that’s not true, but if you tell your boss about the blood and Lego gambit it’s bound to get you out early and the weekend can begin.

Not up for the psychiatric follow up? Try a cold. We’re in the end stages of COVID but the least of viral symptoms still gets you an overblown license to absenteeism.  Go Rahm on this. Never let a crisis go to waste.

Alternately there’s car trouble, gas leaks, emergency vasectomies, and all manner of other excuses. Bottom line: Get out of work early and sit yourself at my bar. I’m a heavy pourer.

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