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June 3, 2004
Ah, Thursday. Like the repetitive rhythm of a hammering carpenter or the ceaseless pounding of surf on rock, Thursdays crash upon Thursdays as the workweeks follow one after the other. By end of shift on Friday, one's head is full of clanging echoes, memories of recent events. During the weekend the echoes fade as the memories are lost and by Monday a new bright and shiny nail waits to be hammered. It is clear by Thursday how the day got its name. Thor, the greatest hammer-slinger of all time really hits his merciless stride by that time of the week.