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Jim Walker: Daylight saving time and solar flares

Don't Take Me Seriously

Posted: March 9, 2012 1:55 a.m.
Updated: March 9, 2012 1:55 a.m.
 

So, OK, daylight saving time begins Sunday at 2 a.m. And we’ll be “saving” a little more daylight, a little more sunshine, each day — you know, just in time for the sun to fry us all with protons and X-rays. 

Oh, do I overstate?

Well, apparently, that jokester the sun had a big “ta-da” planned for us, to kick off the time change on Sunday. But, as he suffers from premature enflaration, he couldn’t wait, and he let loose an intense solar flare this past Tuesday.

This little oops was classified as an X5.4-class event. And it unleashed a coronal mass ejection into space (seriously), which, zipping along at 4.5 million miles per hour, was scheduled to reach the Earth ...

 ... Well, just as i am writing this in the wee hours on Thursday ...

So, as my bedroom shakes like the Enterprise during a Klingon phaser attack, and the power goes out, I scrawl this column in fits and starts with a pencil on a pad, illuminated by the auroras dancing in the sky outside my window.

Small things made of ferrous metal are chasing each other around the room as if they had been enchanted by Harry Potter, and everything electronic is humming and bouncing and throwing off sparks. The starter motors of every car in the hood are grinding away, all on their own, and someone is screaming outside my walls.

“My iPhone! Oh God, what do I do without my iPhone?!”

 ... Some time later ...

Whew! That was intense. And, as I crawl out from beneath my mattress, I take stock … and, you know, dutifully start typing at my computer, which, amazingly, seems unaffected. In fact, nothing is noticeably different — except that my GPS now thinks I’m in Cleveland, my screensaver has become the grinning face of Bob from the ExtenZe commercial, and my 10-pound iron hand weights have locked together in a cross that hesitantly clings to the ceiling just over my head.

But I’ve worked under pressure before.

... Some time even later ...

Now, you may be a deep sleeper, and thus may have missed that incredibly frightening ordeal Thursday morning. And there is obviously some kind of magnetically induced forgetfulness going on, because no one but me seems to be talking about it.

Which begs the question: “Hey, Jim, how are you going to connect this to daylight saving time?”

Well, OK. Here’s the deal.

The truth is, the change to daylight saving time will not lengthen our daylight hours. But it will shift them forward in our schedules so that we can spend more time outside in daylight after work.

And, thus, we will be spending more time outside the protection of our lead-lined bunkers, dancing naked in the sunlight to show tunes — all while geomagnetic storms, resulting from the sun’s current preoccupation with flares, reprogram our brains and even our “cellular memories.”

We will begin to forget who we are, where we are headed in life — and even what we had for lunch. We will find ourselves going home to new families, and they won’t notice the difference. The rich will forget they are rich, and the poor will forget that there is now money available.

Dreams will be our new reality, and “reality” just a bad dream.

Wars will become rumors of wars, which will shrink to idle gossip and, eventually, fairy tales. We will all just get along because we won’t be able to remember why we were angry.

On the cellular level, our bodies will begin to be get younger each day, like Benjamin Button, and though we’re headed for diapers either way, at least this way they will be smaller and take up less space in the landfill.

We will forget our cravings for caffeine and alcohol and, instead, start Jonesing for buckwheat and radishes.

The stages of evolution will reappear in our bodies at inconvenient times, and vestigial tails will become the norm. Men will develop pouches for their self-conceived young, kind of like sea horses, and women will become — well — obsolete.

Oh, and those who used to know they ate asparagus will now smell Juicy Fruit instead.

My friends, it’s the end of life as we know it — and just in time for spring.

Comment at jwalker@the-signal.com or at http://Twitter.com/DontSeriously.

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