March 11, 2007 is a day burned into my memory. Much like Aug. 16, 1977. I remember those dates with sadness. I don’t remember too many other dates, anniversaries or birthdays. I am a frivolous sort.
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I knew it was the time of year when the governmental powers that be would once again mess up my cicadian rhythm. I just knew it was coming up soon. And, my assumptions were confirmed Monday morning when I turned on my computer in our Oxford office. The ol? Window XP ‘Pro? (and I chuckle whenever I think of this computer being considered as ‘pro? anything) grumbled, groaned, ticked and sorta? hummed to life, limping along on its daily ‘slow? boot.
I knew things were getting jinky when I glanced at the time at the bottom of my computer screen, then looked at my office phone (which also displays the date and time) and the two were not in synchronized harmony. Nope.
The computer said, ?7:37 AM? and the phone said, ?6:37 a.m.?
With only a few snorts of coffee in my system, and still a wee bit groggy from weekend trips to the hospital and home improvement, I quickly checked my wrist watch for the correct time. 7:37 was correct.
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Yes. Caveman Rush — your lovable, local Neanderthal scribe — still wears a wrist watch, whilst his knuckles drag across the ground. I like wrist watches. No, I love them. I love the big shiny ones with tons of wheels, compass markings and spinny gadgetry. I love the ones with cartoon faces, like Micky Mouse and Bugs Bunny. The only things I love more than wrist watches are pocket watches — but I don’t have the guts to rock a pocket watch out in public.
Maybe when I grow up I will switch from sweater vests to regular suit vests and get the gold chain and watch swinging. Yeah. That sounds nice. Now that I think of it, I just remembered: I am a fashion god.
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Quick question . . . the coffee must be kicking in as I am thinking and typing than just a few minutes ago when I started . . . When God texts his besties (best friends) and wants to make an exclamatory statement with only a few letters, does he (or she) text, ‘OMMe? ?
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Of all the things which whizzed me off about George Bush 2, one of the biggest whizzer-off’er actions was when he signed the Energy Policy Act of 2005 — it went into effect on March 11, 2007.
The Patriot Act, I can overlook.
Tanking the economy, no biggie.
Invading Iraq, whatev.
Since that stupid act took effect, my office phone clock tells the wrong time (because it’s programmed to the old-school Daylight Savings Time schedule) for about four weeks of each year. It messes with me, man. And for that, I cannot forgive ‘W.?
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What did this act do? It extended Daylight Savings Time (DST) by four weeks a year. DST starts three weeks earlier now, on the second Sunday in March; and one week later, to the first Sunday in November.
This weekend kids, your Halloween parties may be extended an hour because we FALL BACK on Sunday, Nov. 1 at 2 a.m. Two in the morning will magically become one in the morning, giving all you adult ghosts and goblins an extra hour of naughtiness.
Now, that is scary!
(Well, not really, but I wouldn’t want to be on the roads starting at 1 a.m. this Sunday.)
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So, I actually googled the stupid Energy Policy Act of 2005 and found the following bits of information:
The act ‘was the first omnibus energy legislation enacted in more than a decade. Spurred by rising energy prices and growing dependence on foreign oil, the new energy law was shaped by competing concerns about energy security, environmental quality, and economic growth.?
Proponents of the act said, by enacting it America could, ‘possibly save 100,000 barrels of oil daily. People will turn interior and exterior lights on later in the day which will save electricity. Lighting for evening sports events can be turned on one hour later.?
I still don’t like it. Bush is still on my ‘list.?
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Oh, and in case you are wondering, Aug. 16, 1977 is the day Elvis died.
Comments or concerns can be e-mailed to this address, Don@ShermanPublications.org; you can Tweet commentary to: twitter.com/DontRushMeDon