Fuck Daylight Saving Time
With a cactus
Fuck daylight saving time. With a cactus. Actually, wait. Fuck standard time. Let’s stick with daylight. I’m at the 51st parallel and don’t want the goddamn sun coming up at 4 a.m. in June. Just fucking pick one and stick with it, okay?
It’s probably apocryphal, but the story goes that a Native American was told about the reason behind daylight saving time and he replied, “Only a white man would believe that you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket, sew it to the bottom, and have a longer blanket.” Whether this was said or not, that is one true goddamn statement.
Hey, George Hudson. I know you’re dead, but fuck you. You should have stuck to your fucking bugs and not fucked with time. British-born New Zealander Hudson was an amateur entomologist who did shiftwork, and he wanted more daylight to look for bugs, so in 1895 he said hey everyone, let’s fuck with the clocks so I can see better to dig up fucking ants and centipedes and shit because it’s all about me. Asshole.
A couple of Canadian cities began toying with daylight saving time as early as 1908, because Canadians can be assholes too, but it wasn’t used at the national level until April 30, 1916, when the Germans and Austrians were in the middle of a giant fucking war they started. They said hey let’s be even bigger assholes on the international stage and implement Hudson’s dumb-as-fuck idea because maybe it would help save coal during a time of war. A bunch of other European countries soon followed and here we fucking are.
It wasn’t created for farmers. That’s a myth. Farmers fucking hate it. Listen to the farmers.
Not everyone believes daylight saving time to be dumb as fuck. Those people are dumb as fuck. In my opinion, defending changing clocks twice a year is fucking dumb and we need to stop doing it. There are arguments both for and against, linking it to shit like heart attacks and car crashes and unproven energy savings and decreased efficiency and computer glitches and won’t someone think of the poor little children walking to school in the dark?
There is no convincing evidence that changing clocks is a good thing. Likewise, proponents of saying “Ah fuck the clock is wrong” and fiddling with buttons to change it while you’re driving your Honda Civic to work and you’re tired as fuck because it’s too goddamn early on a springtime Monday and you’re not paying attention to the road so you blow through a stop sign and take out an old lady and her little Bichon Frise too ... uh ... those people say the criticisms are overstated.
Holy run-on sentence. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Since the pros and cons are so very fucking debatable then maybe we should just err on the side of not fucking with time.
NOTE: This piece was researched and written by a human, not some bullshit “ai” plagiarism software.
Those who cannot remember the past need a history teacher who says “fuck” a lot. Get both volumes of ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY SH!T WENT DOWN.
I am okay with either. I hate both getting up in the dark and going to bed when it's still light, and I'm going to get stuck with one of them no matter which way we go, but can we please just end this madness? "Springing forward" bucks me up for weeks afterward. The end of DST is not as bad, but it still gets me off kilter for at least a week. Madness, I say. MADNESS!
I'm with you, James. Everyone should stop fucking with the clocks twice a year. And we should do it now, while "Daylight Saving Time" is in effect (and thank you for spelling "Saving" without an "s" which is what fucking stupid people do). I, for one, would rather have that hour of daylight after work when I'm in the mood to do something fun outdoors. It doesn't matter if it's daylight or dark in the morning when I'm stumbling around, trying to get myself together for the day.
The argument I always heard was that parents didn't want their precious little darlings walking to school in the dark. That argument isn't worth shit, witness the half-mile-long lines of traffic in either direction as parental chauffeurs burn up fossil fuel waiting in line to deposit their little monsters on the schoolhouse doorstep, while yellow buses drive empty for miles in search of that handful of brats whose parents have the sense to utilize the mass transportation their taxes pay for.