This Daylight Saving Time phenom­enon is occur­ring so frequently I am almost getting bored talking about it. I’m sure you’re already bored hearing me talk about it. Turn a corner and poof! — the time’s changed again.

The funny thing is, I woke up this morning and had to hunt for evidence that the time had changed from PDT to PST last night.

I guess it’s technology catching up with social stupidity. Almost any clock that has a microchip is now capable of automat­i­cally adjusting to the jump in time with no manual inter­ven­tion. The excep­tions, of course, are the clocks that don’t store your time-zone.

So here’s what I found this morning.

Clocks that show the correct time:

• Computers (all desktops and laptops)
• Digital alarm clock
• Cell phone

Clocks that do not show the correct time:

• Microwave (stores only the time, not the date)
• Camera (stores the date, but not the time-zone)
• Pager (stores the date, but not the time-zone)

Perhaps I should have at least one good analog clock hanging on the wall to maintain my sanity.

If someone walking by asks you what time it is, he’s probably asking for the local time, so if you casually glance at your watch and reply that it is nine o’clock in the morning, that’s fine. But what if this person had been on the other side of the globe, and speaking to you over the phone? You’d have to qualify that with the time zone: it is nine o’clock in Seattle. Or whatever. It is not unrea­son­able to expect the other guy to figure out the time in his little town based on what you tell him.

(By now you’re probably wondering why this guy across the globe doesn’t have a clock of his own, but that’s besides the point.)

Now imagine that some all-powerful body declares that the time in Seattle shall be arbitrarily moved forward or backward by an hour at different times of the year. Now, when you tell that guy the time is nine o’clock in Seattle, he’d have to reckon that actual number of hours based on the time of the year.

People with power to declare the time are seldom satis­fied with creating mild confu­sion. The more the merrier, they say. So imagine that they convene a committee every year that gathers together in an expen­sive hotel, with over-priced dinners and spectac­ular service to decide when to move the time forward or backward. Sometimes, on a whim, they decide not to do it at all.

Of course, the guy on the other end of the phone would be pretty confused by now. Sure, he would have this little book that he would keep updating every year, so as to figure out the right time based on what you told him — but at times he would forget. He doesn’t sound like the brightest, you know.

Now I’ve forgotten what my original point was, and besides, this story sucks, so — “The End.”