Scaring the Living Daylight Savings Time Out of You
It’s been a rough and tumble kind of week. First there was Halloween and all the constipation that comes with it. Less than 48 hours later came the midterm bloodbath. If I see one more headline claiming that this election was a vote against Barack Obama and Nancy Pelosi, I’m going to pull a Snickers bar out of my ass and eat it myself.
I don’t think I can take another
hour minute of this.
Am I the only one who reads this “claim” in very clear black and white?
“Real Americans” can’t stand the idea of a black man or a white woman in any position of real authority or power (unless those people are vying to fill jobs that demand such qualities as “certifiably photogenic but vapid never the less”). Insert Sarah Palin’s
disciple Christine O’Donnell’s name here.
Now for those of you who are suffering from Election Day hangovers or ad campaign withdrawal, not to worry. If you’re not dumbstruck enough by what is happening to our country and the direction of the economy, guess what you get to do this weekend?
You get to really return to the Dark Ages. And no, Dick Cheney is not in the building.
Ah, once again, we’re facing Daylight Savings Time.
Twice a year we go through this ridiculous exercise of springing forward or falling back to gain nothing tangible or to simply lose our minds. Reminds me a little bit of the elections. This sleep trickery/thievery makes no logical sense in the 21st century. It’s like standing in line to get into my own bathroom even though I live alone or playing the lottery without picking any numbers and finding out the winner has blown all the money without giving me any of it.
Like I said, it reminds me of the elections.
Not only does Daylight Savings Time screw up my system, it makes me feel as if I own an otherwise unattended clock shop. After racing through the house willy-nilly synchronizing the time on every single watch, clock, TV and appliance, I discover I’m two minutes off somewhere and have wasted ten more of them to get that way. I’m not saving a damn thing, including my own sanity.
On top of all this, I spend at least one week on either end of this dumb semiannual ritual either chasing after sleep or staving off hunger. It occurs to me that I do this for no reasonable purpose other than to bitch about it. Or write about.
Looks like my time is up.
Don’t forget to turn your clocks back.
We’ve got one more hour to waste that we’ll never get back.