It’s About Time

After the revolution, on my first day in office as President, or Sexy and Benevolent Leader, or Illustrious Potentate, or whatever of the United States, I will outlaw the observance of Daylight Saving Time.
A recent poll of random adults at the bar waiting for a table at Red Lobster in northern California revealed that 90% of all Americans think daylight saving time is an outdated and pointless exercise in arbitrary adherence to tradition.  The other 10% are idiotic twats.
I have never understood how so many allegedly intelligent, free-thinking people could be so-easily convinced to do something so fundamentally silly.  For four decades now, I’ve been listening to people embarrass themselves trying to explain their adherence to this absurdity, patiently enduring their assaults on logic and reason as they slowly reveal that they themselves don’t really understand this nonsense either.
There seem to be three basic arguments these pedants of chronology employ.  to wit:
  1. Benjamin Goddamit Franklin, may God rest his sweet, patriotic soul, invented daylight saving time just like he invented electricity and he was obviously a genius and how dare you or any other non-genius fuck with Uncle Ben’s ideas.   They didn’t put your ugly ass on the hundred dollar bill now, did they?  Alright, look…you need to remember a couple of things.  Absolutely, Ben Franklin was a genius.  A great many of his inventions propelled America and mankind into the future that we enjoy today.  However, Ben Franklin lived in a world without electric light and climate control.  His nights were lit solely by candles and oil lamps, and even though his idea of shifting the clock around was pretty clearly meant as a joke, and he had likely been into his cups when he wrote this letter, it did make some bit of sense then to suggest that opening business an hour earlier during certain months of the year would reduce candle usage. American businesses haven’t relied on candlelight or oil lamps in more than a century.  Even candle shops now use electric light and computers.  The position of the sun no longer has anything to do with when we can and cannot work, play, cook, read, et cetera.   If B.F. were alive today, I suspect he would want to pimp-slap all those who have mindlessly remained allegiant to daylight saving time.  He invented his stove to more efficiently heat houses: he would certainly acknowledge that central heating and air is a vastly more safe and effective method of climate control, and would likely insist on having it in his house.
  2. It will save energy and money.  Poppycock.  Patently untrue.  In fact, the exact opposite holds true: hundreds of millions of dollars are lost every year due to employees arriving late for work, conference calls and meeting missed, and overall productivity lost.  Doctors tell us that dicking around with the clock and one’s sleep schedule increases the chances of heart attack significantly, leading to hundreds of millions of more dollars lost in medical expenses.  Sleep loss, the disruption of the Circadian rhythm, greater susceptibility to illness…all of things lead to lost productivity, lost money, and ultimately increased energy resources. And having citizens in the work force arrive home at the hottest part of the day ends up using significantly more energy than would be used otherwise.  Just ask Arizona.  They ignore DST (as does Hawaii) and they do just fine.  In fact, neither of those states have nearly the same number of rolling blackouts during the summer as California does.  We have them regularly throughout the summer, during DSL.  There has never been a rolling blackout during Standard Time.
  3. The farmers need daylight saving time to order to harvest their crops and get all their work done during the summer.  I can’t even begin to understand this one.  And I think that’s because this one falls in to the very strange category of many of the other lines of rationale I’ve heard to justify the menace of DST: people seem to actually think that DST adds an hour of time to the day.  Like we ACTUALLY get an extra hour of daylight or the days are ACTUALLY an hour longer than they would be during Standard Time.  To these poor souls I can say only that I will include you in my nightly prayers and hope that you aren’t a registered voter.  Farmers go to work when the sun comes up, and they don’t spend the day watching the clock, waiting for 5 o’clock so they can knock off.  Hell no.  They quit work when it’s so dark they can’t see what they’re doing.  They don’t give the slightest of damns if you insist it’s 5:00pm or midnight: just stay out of their way.
The practice of hourly timekeeping only began in the United States once train travel began: people needed to know when the hell they needed to be at the station to catch their train.  Fair enough.  And today’s world is governed by the clock.  Fine.  But let’s just settle on what time it is and then leave it that way.
Uncle Ben's Wild Ride
N.P.: “I Know What I Am” – Band of Skulls

March 9, 2024 – It’s About Time (Again)

Goddammit, dear reader…goddammit so much.  You know what happens tonight?

Tonight begins what is arguably the most insipid and blatantly stupid practice of our rotten society: daylight saving time.  I’ll post my usual screed on the subject tomorrow which heaps invective upon the folks who drunkenly thought up the idea and implemented it, but today, I want to bitch about the majority of Americans who for reasons unbeknownst to me just accept this horseshit unquestioningly.  The execrable Gen Z has an excuse (they always do):  they were taught neither history nor critical thinking.  Their entire historical perspective begins with the year they were born, and they seem to be dangerously committed to the idea that nothing of any significance happened before social media was invented.  They are like the pathetic slaves chained up in Plato’s cave: defiantly insisting “their” truth is actually The Truth, and becoming outraged at those who have actually been outside the cave, who are trying to open their eyes to the Really Real World and free them forever.  People get rather sensitive to anything that threatens their reality, even when (especially when) those threats are in the form of facts, data, and statistics.

Wait…I’m supposed to be bitching about stupid daylight saving time.

Fuck it, I need to get this Gen Z thing out of my system.  You see, dear reader, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and writing about this subject lately…too much, really.  So I won’t belabor anything here, I’ll just cut to the chase and give you a sneak preview of the conclusion.  To wit:

I’ve approached the problem of Gen Z from everything conceivable angle, and the only solutions to the Gen Z problem are these:

  1. Massive re-education camps where the ludicrous lies they’ve been fed about systemic racism, transgender ideology, the history of the United States, and the nature of life in general can be properly and permanently ablated.  Or
  2. Round them all up and drive them into the sea.

The few people I’ve shared these ideas with have reacted somewhat negatively, suggesting that either of these propositions could be viewed as “extreme.”  I reminded them that we live in extreme times, which, definitionally, can only be dealt with in extreme measures.  Broad strokes, I told them.  Still, they seemed dubious.  So I made my argument to an AI chatbot, and asked if there were any other solutions that maybe, somehow, against all probability, that I had not thought of.  It answered with two ideas.  The first involved time travel (which, goddammit, AI…I’m trying to be realistic, here), and the second was an absurd game show that ultimately resulted in terminating Gen Zers who lost the game (and they would all lose the game).  Which seemed silly to me.  That would take forever compared to my idea of simply driving them en masse into the sea.  The game show seems like something like ISIS would come up with.

Okay…that’s it…I’m good.  Back to the fucking “time change.”  Where were we?  Oh yeah….

It’s as if people believe that without the sacred biannual ritual of changing our clocks, crops will suddenly refuse to grow, cows will forget how to produce milk, and chickens will enter into some weird  existential crisis, questioning the very meaning of “laying eggs.” Newsflash: plants and animals do not give a flying fuck about what time it is. They operate on nature’s schedule, not Benjamin Franklin’s drunken musings or the whims of a society that can’t seem to remember whether they’re supposed to spring forward or fall back without consulting a dozen memes.

And let’s talk about the sheer lunacy of the adjustment period, shall we? For a week or so after the time change, society collectively walks around like zombies, chugging coffee like it’s the elixir of life, snapping at each other over trivialities because everyone is just too darn tired. A couple hundred of us will die from heart attacks or traffic accidents.

The fact that we still cling to this antiquated practice is a testament to human beings’ remarkable ability to complicate their lives for no good reason at all. Honestly, if daylight saving time were proposed today, it would be laughed out of Congress faster than you can say “sleep-deprived hallucination featuring a tap-dancing Benjamin Franklin.”  Which says a lot given the over-arching stupidity of our congress.
So, on my first day in office, after I’ve had my inaugural coffee and sworn to protect and serve this great nation of ours, I will sign an executive order abolishing daylight saving time. No more springing forward, no more falling back. Bullshit!  We will live in a perpetual state of temporal bliss, where the only thing we have to remember is whether we want our coffee black or with cream.

I can see it now: a nation united, free from the tyranny of the clock change. Productivity will soar, medical expenses will plummet, and no one will ever again have to endure the horror of realizing they’re an hour late to something because they forgot to change their moronic clocks. Or worse, an hour early, awkwardly waiting around, cursing Ben Franklin and his infernal time-tinkering ways.
Anyway, my fellow Americans, it’s high time (pun intended, but I could do better) we put an end to this daylight saving madness. Let us march boldly into a future where our biggest worry in November isn’t how to change the clock on the microwave, but rather, what we should do about the pumpkin spice addiction. Together, we can make this dream a reality. Vote for me, and let’s make America sane again.

Jayson for President: He’ll Get Things Done©.

N.P.: “Come Together” – Gary Clark, Jr., Junkie XL

Jayson Gallaway

March 5, 2024

Meetings.  Endless meetings.  Meetings that lead to more meetings.

I am officially sick of meetings.

N.P.: “Kiss (feat. Tom Jones)” – The Art of Noise

Word of the Day: kakistocracy

Kakistocracy (noun): A system of government that is run by the worst, least qualified, or most unscrupulous citizens.  It’s a real word for when the village idiots become the town council.

Origin: The word is a delightful blend of Greek components:
Kakistos (κάκιστος): Meaning “worst”—because why settle for mediocrity when you can aim for the abyss?
Kratos (κράτος): Meaning “rule”—because even chaos needs a manager, apparently.

The President of the United States gazed vacantly at the tens of people who had gathered to hear his speech.  Once again, he had forgotten not only what he was saying, but where he was.  Where he was was widely known for certain: he was presently in the House of Representatives delivering the State of the Union Address. 

This sort of thing had been happening a lot lately, but really, things had never been good, mental-acuity-wise for this president.  His inauguration was the most memorable for many reasons: the first inauguration to be sponsored by the Chinese Communist Party, the first inauguration to have a president to take the oath pantsless (but he was wearing mismatched socks and a blissfully ignorant grin).  It was a horrible day.  When the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court appeared on the dais, he was dressed as female clown and, as one writer put it, “engaged in cheap Socratic banter and low-rent sleight-of-hand with the handful of people who had shown up to witness this farce.”  The majority leader of the Senate came out and tried (and completely failed) to juggle several rubber chickens.  The traditional oath of office was replaced on this occasion by a rather bawdy nursery rhyme, and the president’s acceptance speech seemed to center around a promise replace all traffic lights in the US with interpretive dance troupes. 

“It’s better for the environment!  Climate change is the biggest threat our country faces.”  White supremacy was number two, followed closely by transphobia. 

The crowd of nearly 10 people erupted in panicked gasps.  A secret service agent was so taken aback that he accidently knocked over the podium.  The president tripped on the Chief Justice’s clown shoes and fell into a truly massive cake shaped like the national debt. 

Manolo, a janitor at the event who, unbeknownst to anyone, had the highest actual IQ of anyone in DC, ran onto the stage and grabbed the microphone.  “You know what climate change, white supremacy, and transphobia have in common?”

Confused silence from the crowd.

“They’re not threats to our country.  In fact, they don’t really exist at all.” 

And with that, the crowd as well as the entire kakistocracy they had voted for simply disappeared in a fetid puff of idiocy and lies.

N.P.: “The Man” – The Killers

February 13, 2024

Mgmt: Dude…it’s Tuesday.  You need to post something.
Me: I’m working on stuff.
Mgmt: Be that as it may, you need to post something.
Me: I got jokes.
Mgmt: Not jokes.
Me: Well, which is it: do I need to post something or not.
Mgmt: Something not jokes.
Me: Fuck yourself.  How do you stop a toddler from drowning in the summer.
Mgmt: We’re not doing this.
Me: You drown him in the spring.  When my best friend dies, he wants his ashes pressed into a record.
Mgmt:  ….
Me: That is his vinyl request.  What do you call getting gonorrhea from a handicapped person?
Mgmt: ….
Me: Slow clap.  Hello?
Mgmt:  I’m here.
Me:  What did Bruce Willis say when he got a vasectomy?
Mgmt:  Goddammit.
Me:  Snippy-kai-yay, motherfucker.
Mgmt:  That’s not even funny.
Me:  No argument there.  What do you call a pedophile pirate?
Mgmt:  Oh no.
Me:  Arrrrrr Kelly.
Mgmt:  [barely stifles a snicker]
Me:   Did you know you can’t laugh loudly in Hawaii?
Mgmt:  You are the worst client we’ve ever had.
Me:  It has to be “a low ha.”
Mgmt:  By far, the worst.
Me:  What’s the difference between a slice of pizza and a dead man?
Mgmt:  This qualifies as actual abuse.  You’ve put yourself in a very actionable position.
Me:  A slice of pizza can’t feed a whole family.
Mgmt:  Jesus.
Me:  What do you call a virgin from Oregon?
Mgmt:  I love Oregon.
Me:  An orphan.  Hashtag fuck Oregon.  What do you call a horny square?
Mgmt:  Okay, I’m going to go.  Post something.
Me:  An erect-angle.
Mgmt:  Promise me you’ll post something.
Me:  I promise.

N.P.: “Some People Call Me” – Jason Bieler and the Baron Von Bielski Orchestra

February 10, 2024

 

Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a
thunderbolt.
~ Sun Tzu

I first read that quote when I was 14, and it has stayed with me ever since.
And that, dear reader, is why I don’t talk a lot about what I’m up to.  But when it’s time,
you will know.

N.P.: “Koshiro” – Exyz, SENZO

February 5, 2024

Fuckin’ Monday, dear reader.  Time for some bad jokes.  Here goes:
What’s the difference between a jeweler and a prison guard?  One watches cells, and one sells watches.  No?  K.
What’s the difference between an epileptic oyster fisherman and a prostitute with diarrhea?  One shucks between fits and one shits between fucks.  Okay, c’mon…that was funny.  No?  Fine.
What do you call a girl who’s tired of talking about the environment?  Regretta Thunberg.  Still no?  Fuck you.
What do tofu and dildoes have in common?  They’re both meat substitutes.
What do you call two AI systems that are in love with each other?  Members of the (Chat)LGBT community.
What do you call a sleep-walking nun?  A roaming Catholic.  Okay, I get it if you didn’t get that one.
How does a computer get drunk?  It takes screenshots.
That one kinda sucked.  Admittedly.
Who does Jesus ask if he wants to get a loan?  The profits.
Okay…that one was pure suck.
Just found out my grandpa is addicted to Viagra.  No one’s taking it harder than me.
I tried to start a dating service for chickens.  But I was struggling to make hens meet.
What’s green and smell’s like pork?  Kermit’s fingers.
How does The Rock pee?  He Dwayne’s his Johnson.
What do you get when you rub two oranges together?  Pulp Friction.
I made a website for orphans.  It doesn’t have a homepage.
Why is Dwayne Johnson the only guy that can turn lesbians (not true, btw)?  Because Rock beats scissors.
Why are gay dudes so rude?  Because they’re fucking assholes.
I told the cop, “You can’t write me a ticket…I have a marathon to run tomorrow.”  The cop said, “Sir, that’s not how you play the race card.”
What does a perverted frog say?  “Rub-It.”
How do you stop a toddler from drowning in the summer?  You drown it in the spring.

N.P.: “Bruce Lee – Rick’s 1st Dobro Mix” – Underworld