The thing about the time-change debate in Indiana was this: The state was pretty much evenly divided over whether to adopt Daylight Saving Time with the rest of the country, or stay on Eastern Standard year-round, which was the status quo. And twice a year, we had to have the same fucking arguments over and over and over. It was like Groundhog Day, only Ned Ryerson would tell you about how hard it is to get little kids settled down for bed in June. Then someone else would pipe up about farmers. And so on.
So imagine my glee to realize we’ve now transferred this enervating, circular debate to the entire country.
Here’s my Ned Ryerson take:
I don’t mind changing the clocks twice a year. I don’t like it, nobody does, but honestly, it’s a very minor nuisance that I believe makes sense on a lot of levels. And I’m mystified why we did this for decades through the 20th century, and it was maybe the subject of a Carson monologue joke, maybe, and then suddenly it became this huge deal. Actually, I’m not mystified, because I blame social media, where every man and woman is a pundit and a tiny splinter-in-your-finger issue can take on the weight and importance of a Middle East conflict. To me, it’s simple: In warm weather, we like long, light evenings, so we can play golf and barbecue and ride bikes to get after-dinner ice cream. In winter, we need the daylight shifted back to mornings, because it’s scarce, and we don’t want children walking to school in inky darkness at the same time millions of commuters are getting into their cars and strapping on their work armor, trying to watch market indicators on their smart phones when…did you just hear something? Sort of a muffled thump under the car? Whatever, can’t be late to the office! Onward!
At my latitude, the winter solstice gave us 9 hours and 3 minutes of daylight. You take it where you can. And at my longitude, sunrise on that same day with Daylight Saving Time would come at 8:58 a.m. No thanks.
And now, it’s out of my hands.
Also, I need to get to work. Deadline newsletter day, one of my responsibilities. Gotta hop to it.
A little bloggage:
Where does the Michigan GOP find these freaks? Just the photo on this story is terrifying, and that’s before you get to the news this candidate for the gubernatorial nomination was sued for sending junk faxes. Remember those? Actually, think of all the technology, once wondrous, that was ruined by capitalism. When was the last time you picked up an unknown-number phone call and were pleasantly surprised to hear from the person on the other end? Cellular phones are now pocket computers, only used occasionally for speaking live to another person. Thanks, hands-off regulation!
This was a local tragedy, an 18-year-old who went to East Lansing for the MSU/Michigan football game last fall and disappeared. I think I wrote about it a while back, how it was becoming increasingly obvious that he’d fallen into the river and drowned, and sure enough, they found his corpse snagged on a logjam about a mile downstream sometime in January. The autopsy report came in this week, and to the surprise of approximately zero people, it turned out he was very drunk when he went in the water — .22, to be exact. A colleague compiled a collection of headlines about this news. They all got the word “drowned” or “drowning” in the headline, but the only one that also included “drunk” was written by? Anyone? Me.
OK, then. Work awaits, as does the rest of Wednesday. Have a good one.