The third Monday of each January holds much of the same mystical pseudo-scientific credence the full moon does in relation to werewolves. It’s a positive fact that there’s no fiduciary relationship between regurgitated propagation of Blue Mondays, imminent raptures and Shrove Tuesdays and the potential for a frenzies hysteria.
The first five words of this sentence all link to a different story of purported lows and proffered solutions for the mendacious ailment. It’s a familiar and popular mix of human interest, unified rucks against mystery assailant of the month and general fodder for bantering encounters.
As January hits the 3/4 mark, newspapers in a sardonic solidarity attempt to bask the dreary weather and sluggishly approaching paycheck with a glimmer of exemption of any responsibility or autonomy for the lull after a period of lavishness.
Utterly meaningless, bizarre in inception and unfathomably reiterated, Blue Monday may not elicit an extraordinarily auspicious and purely externally caused depression, but it does fill up web space and column inches.