Mike’s Movie Review – The Hobbit

Firesmith Movie Review

When I picked up a copy of “The Hobbit” from my school library in 1976 the book hadn’t been read in years. No one I knew had even heard of it. My classmates made fun of me for reading it and it would be three more years before the animated version of “The Lord Of The Rings”
created a cult following that would one day become a mainstream smash hit monster.

I had a couple of hours to kill and really wanted to see “The Hobbit” so in I went. The movie seems to be on the very verge of taking off right in the beginning and that’s pretty much where it stayed for nearly three hours.

“The Hobbit” bored me.

This all started back in “Return of the Kong” actually, when they seemed to run out of ideas towards the end and the battle for Gondor was resolved with green ghosts saving the day all the way into the city. The elephant battle went on far too long and this was a reoccurring theme in ‘The Hobbit”. There were just some scenes that should have been left on the floor or at least shortened a bit.

And wow! Radagast The Brown. Did you see that one coming? A wizard with bird manure running down his beard? Trust me that was not in the book and the weirdness with the rabbits? Where in the hell did that come from?

The scene with the hill trolls seemed to drag on and it could have been made better by sticking with what happened in the book. But hell, the opening scene between Bilbo and Gandalf could have easily stayed word for word and we would have loved it. The scene of Bilbo being more or less hurried into going ought to have been kept.

Rivendell was a wonder but suddenly main characters from LOTR are discussing stuff anyone who has seen LOTR should already know. That trilogy has already been shown. It was good, very good, but this movie is slowly oozing towards “Aliens 3” territory which is the one sequelof all time that tainted two really good movies connected to it.

The Dwarves escaping from the den of the goblins looks and feels and sounds a lot like the scene in Moria from “The Two Towers”. And it went on and on and on and on.

There is just so much you can do with Dwarves. In the movie “Snow White and the Huntsman” the sudden appearance of Dwarves nearly killed the movie and ‘The Hobbit” has to deal with them from the word go. It’s difficult to get past the caricature of Dwarves and this movie doesn’t try hard enough. Instead of reinventing what we know we’re fed the same Hollywood type cast for most of them which makes those who are taken from that mold to seem less like Dwarves.

The Ring scene is held nearly true and for that small mercy I am grateful. Still, even that could have been done better. The Eagles scene, please, someone shoot me now, just getting there was an unexpected journey. And by the time it all ended, I had checked the clock three or four times.

Either this is a serious movie or it is not a serious movie. Either we are expected to suspend belief for the characters or we are not expected to, and it’s all about the show. But ‘The Hobbit” drifts back and forth between very serious scenes, downright goofiness, and all of it is wrapped in a setting that deserves so much more.

Take Care,


The Hobbit (2012)  –  PG-13

Take Care,


Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit


Friday Firesmith – Blink Twice For Yes, Once For No

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In the name of research for this scientific essay, I went to a Ford dealership, a Toyota dealership, and then a couple of used car lots. I asked the salespeople I met one simple question and the answer really amazed me. The question I asked was this one: “Has there ever been a car sold in the United States that did not have a turn blinker installed in it?” And the answer was “No”

Now, given the evidence that your average motorist used their blinkers on even number days when the moon is full and Lindsey Lohan isn’t in trouble with the law and Taylor Swift isn’t singing a break up song, you would think most cars do not have blinkers, or that using a blinker required specialized training, like Seal Team Six has. But no, using a blinker is something a person can do just as easily as dialing a ten digit number of a cell phone the size of a credit card while eating a burger and driving with one knee. Actually, and this observation is really all that scientific, using a blinker might be the easiest thing you can do in a car, short of Lindsey Lohan.

Yet nearly everyone does not use a blinker.

Here’s a stat that is really and truly mind blowing: Highway deaths are at a low not seen in forty-seven years.

Fewer people are driving, and people are driving slower these days, but two big factors are the way cars are engineered and “accident avoidance systems” which take over the car when someone gets too close to another vehicle. In short, we trust our cars to be smarter than we’ve proven we can be. This is more or less short circuiting evolution. We’re once again stepping in to make sure stupid people keep breeding.

As far as I can tell blinkers are routinely used by two classes of people; those already in turn lanes, and by people South of I-10 in the Florida peninsula who are in RVs the size of building and are also in the fast lane blinking to get over in the slow lane, but who never do.

It’s a very good idea that everyone knows what you are about to do on the road. It’s even better if the drivers already know before they do it. Blinkers are about as low tech as things come but they are great ways to tell people what you want to do before you do it and it will keep the ultimate low tech signal, the middle finger, from being used. As an aside, I would bet there are more fingers being used in traffic than there are blinkers. For reasons that escape me people would much rather react in anger after an event than with logic before an event.

For all her troubles, Lohan is ultimately a mirror for how people act in traffic today, even if she is a severe example. She believes the road is hers and she can drive however she pleases and it’s an inconvenience for her to have to respect other drivers.

When you do not use your blinker that little bit of Lohan comes out in you.

Take Care,

Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.


Friday Firesmith – Things Go Better With Coke

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I understand cocaine and this after doing the drug just one time, and that was over thirty years ago. That may not seem like a very large sample by which to judge a drug by and trust me on this one, I have had this conversation before. I actually advocate the legalization of cocaine.
This isn’t a reflection of how I feel about the drug but how I see drug laws being useless and dangerous. Cocaine is a dangerous drug for all the wrong reasons. It’s something that can do a lot of damage in a very short period of time.

A friend of mine and I went in together and bought two hundred dollars of cocaine one night back in the early 80’s. The woman who was our connection wanted me to try it with her and in a couple of hours things went from exciting to intense to insane to really, really, surreal. I
remember a lot of sex, a lot of music, and a lot of sex. Then suddenly it was all over and all the cocaine was gone.

The dude who wanted his half of the cocaine wasn’t exactly the forgiving type but he knew if he wanted his money back he couldn’t kill me first. I made one hundred and seventy-five dollars a week back then so I traded a week’s worth of work for a couple of hours of fun. Oh, and had someone capable of murder ready to kill me. Considering all things, I got off light.

A friend of mine went deep and believed everything cocaine told him. Life was better when he was high, sex was better when he was high, the joy of existence never felt so good as it did when he was high and he sold his soul to this belief just as surely as if it were a religion.

Getting off coke wasn’t easy but he managed to do it. He had lost his career, his family, most of everything he owned, and nearly every friend he ever had. Worst of all, even though he was clean and sober, life wasn’t the same without his habit. The spark and sparkle were gone. All of the good times were punctuated by serious coke use and now, back in reality, he was home from Disney World forever. Nothing he would do, nothing he could do, would ever match that time of his life when he was on top of the world.

It’s an illusion. He was never on top of anything but some woman selling her body for cocaine, and make no mistake that can be a heady thing. But if a drug is what it takes to make sex great I would suggest you’re doing it wrong. If there isn’t anything in your life that can make you feel like you’ve just licked a lightning bolt then I suggest you get out more, or just go deeper within.

I say legalize cocaine and let those who want to wallow in it go for it. For those who want a hit every once in a while, turn them loose and for those of us who will never get near the stuff, well, most of us don’t care.

What you need to feel the way cocaine makes you feel already exists inside of you. If you can’t find it without a drug, you’re the last people on earth that should be using.

Take Care,



Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.

Friday Firesmith – Castor Oil and Coffee

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In retrospect, the boss likely realized that hiring his son to work in the wood yard was not only a very bad idea but it was also a very dangerous thing to do. The wood yard was where log trucks dropped of their loads of pine and hardwood so the trees could be loaded on an enormous steel rack to be cut into lengths by an equally large saw. The saw was six feet in diameter and had hundreds of very large teeth that were attached, not fixed. Every once in a while a saw tooth would disengage and go flying. It was like working in a place where someone randomly fired a fifty caliber rifle every two weeks.

I held the lowest position and therefore the most dangerous position in the yard. When the boss’s son was hired, he was hired to be even lower than that, so he might appreciate the chances he had to have a better life. The plan backfired because the young man, all sixteen years of him, had never really been out of the house and the idea of working in a place where steel flew and trees rolled off the rack excited him for all the wrong reasons.

Worse yet, he inadvertently ratted us out about things we had been getting away with forever. We were supposed to come in early on Fridays and get off early on Fridays but instead we just got off early on Fridays. The new kid went home and told daddy he was always the first one there on Fridays. He didn’t mean to reveal our stealing of an hour every week but it just came up in conversation. Really, he did mean well but he really had to go. There was moonshine being sold by one of the guys who had worked there for many years, and mostly everyone knew it. But to have a set of loose lips out there… no, he had to go.

The new kid came in one day and we told him we were taking a day off from work. We had a beer keg set up on some pallets and I was drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle. Two of the guys had already passed out from drinking and another could barely stand. We told him he could have the rest of the day off, just go on back home, and we’d get back to work the next day.

Of course, he went home and told on us, as well he should have. The boss comes up with a deputy behind him and discovers that everyone is on the job, bright and sober. Everyone was given a breath test and everyone passed. The boss scratched his head and cursed under his breath. What was wrong with that boy?

The whiskey I was drinking was just ice tea and the keg was an old one used to prop on the card table in the break room. The two guys who were passed out were faking it. When the kid came back we shook our heads and told him we took “Drinking Day” seriously, and were really disappointed in him. After all, we told him, didn’t he know a person could become instantly sober by a cup of coffee with a tablespoon of castor oil? The young man considered this. Clearly we were now all sober. There was a bottle of castor oil by the coffee machine. We told him to wait until after work, knock back a couple of beers, and then try it. He was fascinated by this. He had just started experimenting with illicit drinking and the idea of being able to go from drunk to sober in a few moments appealed to him no end.

After work, I slipped him a six pack and a to go cup of coffee, no wait, just take the whole bottle of castor oil with you, just in case.

We never saw him again, but Monday morning the boss showed up and he was pissed. He had this wild ass story about somebody, and he glared at me, giving his son beer. Of course, he didn’t really believe that story after the first one, but the lad had also knocked down some pretty strong coffee and some castor oil trying to get sober. The results were he didn’t quite make it to the bathroom before the interesting effects of castor oil and strong coffee kicked in. They would have to replace the carpet in his bedroom.

Take Care,


Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.


Friday Firesmith – Freedom of Expression

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Recently I have written about the escapades of a young woman, a self-described “dumbass” and apparently by the reactions given to the essay there are some conclusions to be drawn:

1. There are those who believe any sort of expression ought to be free regardless of the emotional damage which it might inflict upon others.
2. This freedom of expression is limited only in the case of someone articulating objection and then the objection is objectionable.
3. Objection to someone’s objection is also freedom of expression.

In summary: You can say or do any damn thing you want. Anyone who says anything about it is wrong. It’s okay to point out it’s wrong.


Let me give you an example of what we’re actually talking about here.

It’s perfectly legal for me to tell a woman I am in love with her even when I am not. If I know she’ll sleep with me if I pretend to be interested in her then that is also legal. This happens each and every day, with other men and women, not with me mind you, and I would hope we could agree this sort of behavior isn’t to be encouraged.

Now, should we make it illegal? No, that would be a quagmire. But it’s enough to have some cultural recognition on accepted behavior. This doesn’t always work. When I had long hair I was harassed by a lot of the older people because they thought long hair was offensive. Now long hair is acceptable in other men in women, not for me because my hair leapt from my head, suicidally bent as it were, to escape what it saw inside.

I’m a writer. Don’t presume to lecture me on freedom of speech. I know full well the trail of bodies that have been left behind by those who would kill the printed word if they could only kill enough writers. It has been tried before, it’s going on right now, and in the future it will happen again. Don’t accuse me of trying to suppress someone else’s opinion because I voiced my own. I take exception to that.

Now, in case you think the Constitution sprang from a writer’s head onto a piece of parchment and freedom rang forth, you’re delusional. A war was going on and if the writer had been caught he would have been hung, if he was lucky. But there were men willing to fight, kill, and die, to keep that from happening.

I write what I want to write because wars have been fought, people have been killed, and nations have been born, in order than I might have that right.

My gratitude for that right extends to honoring the dead for what they, and their families gave.

What happened at Arlington pissed me off and I do not give a damn who I offend by saying so out loud, in print, and if need be, again.

But let me reveal a few things here, please. You are reading this not because I wrote it only, but because Jon chose to publish it. He could have decided not to and I would not have the right to demand otherwise. You have right to comment here only at his pleasure. You and I willingly submit ourselves to the rules and regulations here, and by being here, you have accepted that.

You have chosen to be censored for the right to be here, as have I. Yet in a broader sense, there are those who accuse me of censorship or suppression or over reaction because of something I wrote.

The word has formed in your mind. There is no need for me to write it, is there?

In 1869 John Stuart Mill published “On Liberty” I suggest you read it. http://www.constitution.org/jsm/liberty.htm

The subject of this Essay is not the so-called Liberty of the Will, so unfortunately opposed to the misnamed doctrine of Philosophical Necessity; but Civil, or Social Liberty: the nature and limits of the power which can be legitimately exercised by society over the individual.-John Stuart Mill

I do not think those who support the actions at Arlington are either stupid or disloyal, as has been suggested by others, but I sure as hell think it’s misguided.

Take Care,



Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.

Mike’s Movie Review – Prometheus

Firesmith Movie Review

There comes a time when you just have to stop trying to be cute when casting a movie. Both Charlize Theron and Noomi Rapace were in popular movies this year and someone stuck them both in “Prometheus” the latest Ridley Scott offering from the 1979 “Alien” movie. Theron is a top notch actor and Rapace isn’t bad at all, but to have Theron stuck in the background playing what isn’t exactly a supporting role doesn’t help either one of them and it doesn’t help the movie at all.

The premise in this prequel is all throughout human history there are drawings and cave paintings that lead to some star system far, far, away, and Guy Pearce, a rich and dying man, had funded an intergalactic expedition to follow these drawings into the stars. But wait!

In the movie “Aliens Versus Predators” there were hints and clues in all the mentioned ancient civilizations in “Prometheus” and there was an expedition funded by a dying man. In both movies the dying man who funds the expedition is named “Weyland”.

This could get old before it gets started.

Actually the movie is pretty good for the most part, at least in the first half. Just like in “AVP” they find the hidden pyramid thingy and get inside easily. Then Rapace’s character aborts a squid and things just seem to fall apart at that point forward.

Okay, in “Aliens” a scruffy looking character is the first to be killed by the alien because he’s off alone. In “Prometheus” two scruffy looking characters wander away and are attacked by…Space Cobras? The whole premise of the prequel is to discover where the aliens from “Alien” come from and we have a laundry list of weird looking things, please don’t forget the aborted octopus and, you know, how could you? But the aborted Cephalopod is not only forgotten in the movie, Rapace’s character never mentions it to anyone at all. “Hey! I just aborted a creature with tentacles!” would more or less convince anyone and everyone to get the hell away from that place, or it would work with me.

But in “Alien” there is an alien craft with a dead pilot in it and there is a warning beacon sent out by, presumably, the dead alien in the cockpit. “Prometheus” abandons both these artifacts of the original move out of hand and without explanation.

Visually enchanting and supported by the acting of Repace and Theron, “Prometeus” boldly goes where we’re been before. It butchers the legacy of the series, not that “Alien 3” didn’t put a bullet in it, and by the way, you supporters of the Second Amendment will be pleased to know they still have guns in 2095. And zombies, kinds, sorta, unexplained zombies, well, one anyway.

From the opening scene where a gym rat with a good trainer can’t handle his Jägermeister to the end of the movie where I was just about tired of seeing scenes from the first movie being pirated, there is a sense “Prometheus” is Ridley Scott’s way of milking that cash cow just one more time. He can’t need the money and there isn’t a way he could have been happy with the writing in this movie. Hell, and that isn’t even the most confusing part of the movie.


Prometheus (2012)  –  Rated R –  124 Minutes

Take Care,


Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Friday Firesmith – An Open Letter To Lindsey Stone

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 Hi Lindsey!

So how are you? I see you’ve disappeared from Facebook altogether. You also got fired from your job. There are a lot of people out there very unhappy with you. Some of those people have been wounded in combat. I’m not talking about a few thousand internet addicts who are going to spam and revile you night and day, but there will be those people too. Mostly the people you need to worry about are those men and women who have worn the uniform and paid the price, the men and women who gave without questioning why, and while you’re thinking about it, which you haven’t, you might want to think about the reaction of a widow who sees you in public “being a dumbass”.

Would you like for to me explain to you what is going to happen? It’s already happened. You’ve lost their respect.

Lindsay-StoneThe internet addicts you can live without. They’re just talk and type. But think about some young woman whose husband was blown to pieces in Iraq and came home in a box. Imagine trying to explain to Katherine Cathey how funny what you did was. Better yet, imagine how she feels seeing your now famous photo.

I want you to close your eyes and see her face and imagine how she felt when she saw your photo.  You aren’t in the same class as that woman. Don’t ever think for a moment you are.

Now you know why you and I are having this conversation. I am not just angry, no, that doesn’t cover it. I’m enraged. I feel violated. I feel like someone who couldn’t possibly make it through a week for bootcamp decided to take her own shortcomings and project them in public.

But what I am actually here to do is forgive you. I am here to offer you a way out of your own life. I have something to offer you beyond your current level of comprehension.

Go to a VA hospital and volunteer. Speak in person to those who have served and offer them your help, in any small way you might. Take photos of them with their families, with the staff, with their medals, with their wounds, and make those things public. Understand why these people, men and women, young and old, think who they are is less important than what they have done for this country. Write about it, make it known, show the stories and tell them.

Go to a cemetery, any one will do, and make presentable the last resting site of some soldier whose name has been forgotten. Take a photo and tell the story of this person. How did he die? How did he live?

You want out of this mess you put yourself in? You want forgiveness? You want redemption?
Then give of yourself service. Those who wore the uniform, like myself, will honor you for it and I will forgive nearly anything, if you would but put yourself, in some small way, in the shoes of those who have served, and their families.

Service, Lindsey Stone.  You will never know peace without it and you have never known peace except for those who have offered it in your name and in this name of this country.

Take Care,


Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.

Friday Firesmith – Election 2012

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“Shut up.” With these two words the election of 2012 might have had vastly different results. The leaders of the Republican Party, such as they are, could have issued a two word statement and changed history forever.

But no.

“It seems to me, from what I understand from doctors, that’s really rare,” Akin told KTVI-TV. “If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.  -Representative Todd Akin, Republican candidate for Senate in Missouri

That is a remarkably ignorant statement. There can only be two reasons for anyone saying something like this. One, they are remarkably ignorant. Two, they think voters are.

But wait, there’s more!

U.S. Senate Republican candidate Richard Mourdock said that pregnancies from rape are “something that God intended to happen”.

So, in the space of a couple of months the media was able to paint the Republicans as a bunch of cave dwelling, club carrying, women bashing brutes more concerned with spreading their DNA than the rights of women not to be assaulted. This isn’t true, of course, but were I a Democrat I would have rode that horse until the legs dropped off and burst into flames.

But then there was this:

“There are 47 percent of the people who will vote for the president no matter what,” Romney said in the video. “There are 47 percent who are with him, who are dependent upon government, who believe that they are victims, who believe that government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, to you name it.”

“Forty-seven percent of Americans pay no income tax,” Romney said, and that his role “is not to worry about those people. I’ll never convince them they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives.”

You can’t spin this away. You can’t do anything with it but take ownership of it and Romney wouldn’t. The idea the poor people of the country are just totally ruining it for everyone else isn’t a myth you can sell if there’s a pocket calculator lying around.

The dog on the car roof thing, the state sponsored health care for everyone thing, the really weird names for his children, the magic underwear, the fact that his real name is Willard, none of this would have made that much difference in the long run, if he could have just shut the hell up and let the President make the mistakes.

But the deeper issue here is who the Republicans were targeting with these remarks. These comments, all of them, were aimed at the same old tired and true electorate that has put Republicans in office since Reagan was a little boy. Conservative white males is a well they have gone to at least one time too many. With their “Me Tarzan You Jane” attitude towards women and their “ship them all back to wherever they came from” attitude towards immigrants, and their constant bellowing that each and every foreign policy failure is cause for war, they’ve become a caricature of their own beliefs.

And everything they say makes it worse.

Take Care,

Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.

Friday Firesmith – License Bureau

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Having to get my driver’s license renewed meant two very bad things for me. The first is if I wanted to write about it I had to use the word “license” which I cannot spell right, ever. That word plagues me. It’s like the word “bureau”. That is another word that gets past me all the time. If there was a license bureau I might not ever write about it at all.  What they have isn’t much better. The second thing is a crowd, in a small room, with paperwork.

Georgia decided that if we were ever going to stem the rising tide of illegal aliens the first thing we must do is make it damn near impossible to renew a driver’s license. You have to have a birth certificate, a Social Security card, two forms of documentation showing your current address, a picture of your father’s belly button and your great grandmother’s blood type printed on a photograph of your thumbprint in JPEG form. Of course, if you’re in construction and you need work done you might not much care about where someone is from if you can get the job done. The only real result of this sort of Draconian Bureaucratic Paper Shuffle is people working here illegally will now be driving here illegally. Wow! I bet that really helps!

The License Bureau opens at 8:30 so I’m there fifteen minutes early. There is a small crowd there in front of me. Half of them do not look local. The other half look frightfully local. There is a breaded man with a woman and five children. This will end poorly unless they are looking to drop some of them off. A very bored and serious looking woman opens the door and all I can think is “Roxy” from “Dead Like Me”. This woman could kick your ass.

The small wanting room gets smaller as more people come in. Some exit quickly as they discover, yes, you have to have all the documents they’re asking for. I have to fill out a form, front and back, and when I turn it in the woman asks me if I can read my own handwriting. I tell her if it’s a good day, I can, and she laughs. My handwriting really is that bad.

There’s a lighted board on the wall letting us know who is next in line. My card reads “A-117” and they are now serving “D-312”. What in the hell does that mean? The automated voice sounds like something out of a horror movie. “Please remove all valuables before entering the shower stalls, no screaming allowed.”

My number is called after a few hours and I have documentation enough to run for President. The man at the window next to me has enough documentation to get a library card in his hometown if his mother is working there that day. He snarks at the woman behind the glass and she looks at him and says, “You have to leave the building, Elvis” A man in a uniform with a gun appears. The man shouts but ever else may be, shouting at people in the License Bureau is a waste of time.  I’m just hoping they don’t lock the building down.

The odd thing is they scan my stack of information. All of this documentation came from the government. The government is the one who wants it. Then after giving me the information to give to them they store the information I got from them to give to them so they can…do what?

I get my photo taken, get my documents scanned, get tested for Ebola Virus and get away from the crowd. My stress level is driven to a point that is nigh unbearable except that I don’t have to do this again for another eight years. As I leave Elvis is handcuffed and arguing with Roxy who looks as if she is about to deliver her most famous line. I can’t repeat it here, sorry.

Take Care,


Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.

Friday Firesmith – Time in a Throttle

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If you really want to mess up a person screw around with their clock. Make them come to work an hour earlier and it will take three weeks for that person to fully adjust. Make them try to go to bed an hour earlier and it will take a month for that to kick in. No employer in their right mind would try to keep employees happy and turn around and mess with their clocks. Most people know that is some very serious evil being done when it happens. You can get your ass kicked
playing with people’s schedules.

Yet twice a year…

But first, let’s get a couple of things out of the way.

pros·trate verb: (used with object) to cast (oneself) face down on the ground in humility, submission, or adoration.

pros·tate adjective: of or pertaining to the prostate gland.

You are not going to get your prostrate checked unless you’re going to get knocked flat. But once a year or so us guys have to go into a doctor’s office and wait. Meanwhile, in that very building are devices that show bones, preborn babies, organs, hearts, electrical activity of the brain and even photos of cats with terrible English skills yet there we are, about to have some guy’s finger stuck up our butt.

Daylight Saving’s time is the government’s prostate check of our schedules and sleep rhythm. And the government, as we all know already, has very big fingers and has no problems in giving anyone anything up the butt.

This is like cutting a foot off a rope, tying it onto the other end of the rope, and declaring the rope longer. It’s the same damn rope. You are not gaining or losing a damn thing. The sun will rise when it will and it doesn’t give a damn what we call the time. It will set when it sets. We can predict all of this despite what Bill O’Reilly might claim, and messing with it once we’ve figure it out is just plain wrong.

Collectively, millions of people will no longer eat their meals at the same time because the government says time is different. These are the people who brought you seven hundred dollar hammers, the Internal Revenue Service, the Invasion of Grenada, and standardized tests.  Letting these people play with time is like letting a five year old play with a cobra. It will end poorly.

I’ve got an idea. Let’s just pick a time and live with it. People have done this for thousands of years. The sun comes up. The sun goes down.  I can explain it and I can live with it.

Take Care,

Mike writes regularly at his site:  The Hickory Head Hermit

Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.