Three Day Weekends and the Cost.

There is something wonderful about a three day weekend.  An extra day off, with pay, it just seems too good to be true.  Luxurious, decadent leisure time, one less alarm clock intrusion into the sweet, restful world of dreams, a little gift from the gods of laziness, and it is yours to spend as you wish.  But, it comes with a price. Reality demands a certain amount of suffering.  Balance needs maintenance, one way or another dues need to be paid.

For some inexplicable reason, the 4 day weeks following a 3 day weekend last almost 6 days.  Despite the development of elaborate time keeping devices, including the Atomic Clock, and the Casio Twin Sensor (which is not just a watch, but a compass and thermometer as well) mankind has been unable to explain this unnatural phenomenon.  Recently, Life Explained has commissioned a study to discover the cause of this inconsistency.  A crack team of time technicians have been at work on this problem since Labor Day, 2012.  Carefully dissecting minutes and examining each second for accuracy. What they found was startling.

Time is not actually a constant.  It is a variable, it takes longer for some time to go by, while other time just zooms past.  Looking back that would explain a lot.  But, here is the strange part, time is really a capricious, sentient being.  It has been around quite a while and occasionally gets a little mischievous just to pass the time.  Further, it sometimes teams up with space (another surprisingly sentient and vengeful entity) to play some very unkind practical jokes on humanity.

Man, that lunch hour was the best five
minutes of my life.

That is why lunchtime can go so quickly, and there is less room in your clothes afterward.  In scientific terms this is called the space time distortion affect.  And has led to a drastic increase in diet beverage sales, as well as psychological therapy.

As a public service we, here at Life Explained, are going to let you in on a little secret. Forget the gym, all the fad diets, all the crazy health advice about heart rates and steps and cardio, kale, pomegranate and dark chocolate, just set a shrine in your living room. A glorious temple to praise and bring glory and honor to time and space. Burn some incense, make a few ritual, shamanistic gestures, and soon you will look younger, fitter, healthier than you ever have. And trust us, here at Life Explained, you don't have any time to waste.You can thank us later.

Don't forget to run over to The Wild Word and cast your vote for your favorite song, out of our favorite songs, there is no write ins allowed, we are not anarchists, after all. Remember the wisdom of Walt Kelly's Pogo.

Time Stumbles Along.

There is a three day weekend coming at me, it is crawling toward me, a snail trapped in amber, frozen in a glacier. I am running, jogging, really, actually limping as fast as I can to get there, but it doesn't seem to be getting any closer. I'm pretty sure yesterday was Friday, and now I am in the early stages of Thursday wondering what happened. You know the feeling you get when you're standing in a crowded place and you think someone is looking at you, feel it in your bones, certain of it. And you turn around and someone is looking at you, staring right at you, maybe right through you. It's that feeling, only worse.

Where did the time go?
Nowhere, it hasn't moved all week

I'm afraid somehow we have slipped out of the space time continuum. We exist in a void beyond reality. Days shift in and out of focus, time passes in both directions. Minutes collide, recoil and change course. You never know where you will land in these times, Wednesday, Thursday, even Monday, God forbid. Swimming in these waters will stretch your strings and leave you out of tune.

The world has stopped rotating, and only the crushing weight of our disappointment keeps us from sailing off into space. We walk through life pretending it still makes sense, but, deep inside we all know, Labor Day is never going to get here, the weekend will never come.


Swapper's Day in Johnstown will always be just out of reach. Sometimes close enough to feel, you can smell the chicken on the flattop grill, but you can't see it. Sometimes off on the fading horizon, distant, silent, almost a memory. Frozen crowds wait only for the moment to mill aimlessly down the long, narrow paths. A moment that never comes.

One benefit, though, is you have a lot of extra time. So, I got a new app for my phone. I'm not sure what I am going to do with it, but it seems cool and there will be plenty of time to experiment. Here is my first video.

Of course, I could be wrong about the whole time thing. If the weekend ever comes I will have more videos from the big day, the big sale, the outdoor extravaganza. The place to go and see, and enjoy, marvel at the diversity, and the sheer, unpredictable marvelous mess that is the brotherhood of humanity. If I can spend a little time in a place like that I start to believe we might be OK after all.

Time, the Enemy of Reason.

Tomorrow is the Day. Today is the day before the Day. Yesterday, of course was the day before today, but that doesn't really matter for the sake of this post. One thing that should be pointed out, though, is yesterday was Tuesday. Since Monday was Labor Day (Labour Day if you live in New Zealand, thanks for the information, Trina) Tuesday seemed an awful lot like Monday. Which makes today, which is Wednesday, have the general texture of Tuesday. Having Monday as a holiday is fine, great in fact, Monday as a blessing, but having Tuesday turn into Monday and throw the rest of the week into chaos is just not acceptable.

To make matters worse, if that is at all possible, I am leaving at 11:00 AM sharp tomorrow for Lake Hope, just my wife, our kayaks, and me, and a bottle of Pinot Noir, and possibly a bottle of Malbec. Not because of any great attraction to these two wines, but we happen to have a bottle of each on hand. Not that the wine really has anything to do with this post.

Let's recap, since we seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

Monday was a holiday, which forced an atmosphere of Monday onto Tuesday. This, of course, pressed hard into Wednesday, making it feel frighteningly similar to Tuesday. I am taking a day off on Friday, making Thursday my de-facto Friday, and since it has to serve as Wednesday, and try to pull off some semblance of Thursday as well, and it will have to do it in 4 hours, since I am only working half of a day.

You can see my problem. I am dealing with a week shortened on both ends, and the chaos of trying to cram a weeks worth of obsessing about the passage of time in 2 1/2 days. The pressure is almost unbearable. I don't want you worrying about this, though, it is my job. Just go about business as normal, and I will get this straightened out.

Have a nice Wednesday, or Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever the hell day it is. It should be a nice day, the weather in Fairbanks AK is mid sixties with a slight chance of rain. If you don't live in Fairbanks let me know, I always thought you looked like a person from Fairbanks. It's a small world.

Since we are going kayaking and I could not find any good kayaking poetry here is a nautical poem, short, sweet and full of imagery.

Sea Fever

BY JOHN MASEFIELD

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

 

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; 

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

 

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Anniversaries and the Implications of Time

Recently a friend of mine from the old country, Nebraska, became my friend of Facebook. I am not sure if this makes him an old friend, a new friend, or some sort of hybrid, a rediscovered friend. Internet networking sites have altered the meaning of things. I could write a book about the way that bothers me, but I will spare you, dear reader.

Anyway, we are friends, again. A short time ago he posted a photo of his wedding day. A day that happened thirty five years ago and he was preparing to celebrate the occasion.

I was dumbfounded. For one thing it forced me to realize that I am getting old. I forget to remember how age is creeping up on me. Even on days when things ache so bad it is a toss-up which leg to limp on. Secondly, I couldn’t believe how long it had been since we had last talked, more than thirty five years. I didn’t know he was married, I didn’t even know he was seeing anybody. I didn’t even know he was alive.

Then it struck me, thirty five years is a long time, an impressively long time. But, it isn’t the years. It is the minutes that make a marriage, any relationship. Those brief instances where love is built, reinforced, transformed from the lusty, irrepressible, hedonistic early days to the comfort of soft sighs and gentle embraces. When holding hands is enough to make you believe in heaven.

All of those seconds when you laughed at private jokes that nobody else understood. And if they did they wouldn’t have been nearly so amused. Couples, possibly in self-defense start to assimilate characteristics from each other. Shared feelings are the bonds that last forever.

Times when you are so sick you think you might die. Lying in bed, dozing in and out of sweaty, restless sleep. Then, an angel wakes you, presses a cold cloth on your fevered, pasty forehead and gives you a glass of ice-cold green Kool-aid. It may have been the only thing that kept you from going to the light. Or when she has the flu so bad she is helpless and all she wants to eat is macaroni and cheese. The cheap kind, so you stop every night on the way home and buy a box, cook it up, and serve it to her on the couch. Gently you help her back to bed. Kiss her cheek and pray that she outlives you.

Marriages are built around those times, seconds of pain and fear. Flashes of happiness so blinding they seem impossible. And those seconds that take hours. Those times you are so mad you could just walk away, never look back. Anger and loathing cloud your vision, you lash out, and she lashes out, and you think “if I never see you again it will be too soon.” But, you don’t give up because you know the term my better half is not just a meaningless cliché. It is the truth.  Those minutes, interminable, terrible, regrettable, make a relationship stronger, because afterwards love heals the wounds, and the scars serve to remind of the pain caused by emotions so strong.

So, I salute your thirty five years, we are still rookies, only twenty eight, and I applaud your time management skills. You are both shining examples of the possibilities. And I am grateful. 

A lesson of unintended consequences.

Time, the final frontier.  Time is a device used to give order to events, it is a means of measuring duration. It gives added meaning to certain accomplishments, a forty yard dash is not so impressive if it takes 25 minutes, maybe it isn't a dash at all. Beyond that, time has become an integral part of life, it has permeated society to an extent that is a little exasperating.

Myself, I need a watch, I have to wear one or my day is ruined.  It will be a wasted day of looking at

a wrist, wondering how much time has passed since I last glanced at my naked, lonely, wrist. I need to know what time it is, and I don't know why. Time is a tool, an addiction, and it can be a weapon.

For a time I managed a small production department in a small company. One of my employees was an older lady from West Virginia, Mary Maxine. She had been there a long time, had a profound understanding of her job, was stable, steady, and productive, and had a mistrust of management that bordered on paranoia.

We developed a working relationship based on mutual suspicion. She was sure I was trying to get her to work harder without paying her more, and I was sure she could probably work harder. But, she had been there a long time, supervisors had come and gone and she had seen her share of crap, brother, she could tell you. And if you thought she was going to let some kid tell her to speed up, well then you had another think coming. Thinking the first time is not all that pleasant, and I avoid conflict so we just acted like we were both happy.

Then one day the unthinkable happened, the plant manager told me the parent company was sending a time management specialist to study procedures and practices. Since Maxine was the most senior employee in my little department she was the target. It was my curse as a manager to tell her.

"He is not here to make you go faster, he just wants to see if they are charging enough, and if we can do anything to make your job easier. They are going to study every job, in every department." I tried to explain.

Her husband was suffering from a coal mining related ailment. they had been shuttled from doctor to clinic to nurse practicioner without resolution. The company who had employed him would not take his calls after promising to take care of things. They were living on a meager disability income and her wages. You could watch her deflate when I told her, shoulders slumping forward, head drooping, the weight was unbearable. She almost cried, thinking this was a trap. I almost cried looking at her holding back the tears.

It was only two hours, a little man with a yellow shirt, a brown knit tie (fashionable at the time) and brown synthetic pants carried a clipboard, a stop watch and several pencils followed Maxine around, noting movement, steps. She was trying to hurry without much luck, the shaking and worrying, and fear was an anchor, holding her down. She was never fast, but now she seemed to be working in thick mud.

He finished his work, thanked her for her help, and moved on without saying anything to me. She came into my cluttered, dusty office and asked if he should take the rest of the day off.

"Yes, I will see you tomorrow." She was so shaken, it seemed possible to me she would not come back, ever. We had quite a few people not come back from lunch, just leave and never return. She needed the money, so she came back the next day and asked what he said.

"Nothing," She didn't believe me, but I never heard anything. Weeks went by and Mary Maxine returned to her normal, suspicious, combative self. Our working relationship returned to a low level battle of wills, which normally ended in her favor.

Weeks later and there was still no word. Much ado about nothing. To a short, round grandma hiding behind thick lenses and gaudy, rhinestone covered frames, from West Virginia who was forced to face an innocent, nameless, corporate terror she couldn't understand it was awful.

I think about Mary Maxine occasionally, we weren't close, we weren't friends, but we were coworkers. In a way we took care of each other, and that was good enough.

Who won the debate, It was me.

Everybody knows I am not very politically involved. I know people who are and they are always pretty bitter. From what I have seen the choice of elected officials is almost wholly unrelated to the life of the average person. Probably to those above average, or even those who fall below the "average" mark.

Politicians are almost universally repugnant, and in my opinion, are the standard bearers for "the below average crowd." I don't think they are evil, or ignorant, but they have something, some genetic defect, some mental aberration causing them to seek the spotlight, and take abuse and criticism all while knowing they are powerless to change anything. Moreover, they are willing to say almost anything to for the privilege.

Obviously, I don't often watch the debates. Last night I made the mistake of changing to the program. It was a "town hall" style debate  where the "moderators" could pretend that people had asked questions, and the candidates are given two minutes to answer. It is addictive, once you tune in you cannot look away.

After watching for a while I was struck by one overriding, powerful concern. How can two minutes last that long? It took forever! Bob Dylan's famous line came to mind, "the next sixty seconds could be like an eternity."

"Madam Secretary, we have a question from a D. Trump. He would like to know how you intend to email ISIS out of existence?"

"Good question, I would like to get to the bottom of this once and for ever..." and forty five minutes later she is still talking about Putin, hackers, and presidential demeanor.

"Mr. Trump, we have a question from a B. Clinton, and he would like to know about your tax returns for the past 10 years?"

"I would bomb ISIS, and anybody else, anywhere, Let me tell you something, something big, something important about ISIS, it was Obama, and Al Gore who created the Climate Change Myth, so they could invest in China, who created ISIS to buy Chinese goods..." and it went on and on.

Two questions later, my coffee maker (set for 4:45 AM) started brewing the life giving elixir. My wife got up and said, "so, what did you learn?"

"I don't know, but I have a great idea for sci-fi movie. It just came to me, about 3:00 this morning." It is getting kind of fuzzy now, I probably should have written it down. No worries, there is another debate coming.

Time, an Unlikely Ally, Maybe.

Time has come and gone, and remains. It consumes my life. Time marches slowly, and waits for no one. Why am I so obsessed with time? It grips me in its cold, clammy minute, second and hour hands. It crushes me under the weight of my own expectations. Time is my enemy, my friend, a ghost that haunts my waking minutes and my sleep.

If I leave the house without a watch I am a wreck. Normally it is a constant accessory, and if it lays lonely on the counter after my departure it is not unusual for me to turn around and go back. "My precious."

Once, at a basketball tournament a guy asks if I have a cell phone. "Yes, why?" He wanted to know what time it was. "I have a watch. In fact I have several. Today I am wearing this lovely little number, with a calendar, a stop watch, a count down timer, and multiple time zones. Would you like to see pictures of my other watches?"

"No, I just want to know what time it is?"

"Oh, it is a quarter after one, here, would you like to know what time it is in Beijing? The relative humidity?"

He walked away without saying anything.

Recently, I got a fitbit. It is a watch that counts my steps, measures my heart rate, and other stuff. But, it tells time, hooray! Unfortunately, it leaves me in a terrible dilemma. I don't want to not get credit for the steps I take and the stairs I climb, but I want to wear my other watches too.

I am a man in distress. I am adrift in a sea of minutes, untethered from the seconds, unsure of the barometric pressure, or the meal my brethren in Bangkok are preparing. Damn the muse that bought me the fitbit.

This picture is only for representative purposes.
I don't really have an Apple Watch, thank God,
that would make things worse

A Chance for Immortality.

If you look hard enough you can see the point where the past and the future collide. It is called the present. Since it passes so quickly it is almost impossible to notice. One infinitesimal flash and it is gone. You really have to be on your toes.

What is the point of finding that one time/place/instance where time meets? It is the heart of the universe. Finding that definable instant is the key. Time travel, space travel, unlocking the secrets of matter, creation, the past, the future, all lie just on the other side.

Obviously the company that can find it will be wealthy, powerful, popular and extremely sought after for late night talk shows, and scholarly journals, maybe even the cover of People Magazine. 

We, here at Life Explained, feel we have the best chance of finding that opportunity. Let's face it, our competitors don't even know it exists. They can eat our cosmic, light speed traveling dust, if you catch our drift.

It is expensive though. Extremely expensive. Today's best technology is too primitive, too slow, we need to build our own Ultra High Speed Cameras, and the Worlds Fastest Dual Processor Monster Computers. We need scanners that scan in ways never imagined, we need particle accelerators that accelerate smaller particles faster than anybody ever dreamed, we need a new espresso machine (the last one was demolished in the territorial wars between accounting and legal, covered in next weeks post, "Lessons Learned the Hard Way"). We need things we don't even know we need yet.

We need you, to send us money, as much as you can, and as often as possible. For the person who donates the most we will go back in time and add their face to Mount Rushmore. You want to talk about a great way to impress the in-laws, here it is.

"So, Bob, what do you do for a living?"

"I deliver beer, and my face is on Mount Rushmore."

"Wow, that's cool!"

We take most major credit cards, cash, and bearer bonds of any type, bit coin, and pay pal. 

Thank you, we are forever in your debt, not that we intend to pay you back, that is just being polite.

 

One Month of Exercise, and Gathering Momentum.

Last night was a month of going to the gym.  And here is a little secret.  I am really enjoying the experience.  Today I said to my wife, "only one more day this week, and it is a gym day, so I can get through that."  You might be thinking, "hey, Tim, it is only Thursday, so you have two more days, I know you are awful at math, but this might be a new low."

True, my friend, too true, all of the above, I am awful at math, it is only Thursday, and there are two whole work days left.  Let me explain my "reasoning" though.  Once the alarm succeeds in waking, and forcing me from the safety and comfort of a warm, wonderful bed that day no longer counts.  Since the worst part, the alarm, is over the rest of the day is just a walk down life's path to the next loving embrace of sleep.

I have this theory that we need to change the way time is measured.  Instead of the traditional passing of days, we need to measure it in Alarm Clock occurrences.  You see, alarm clocks are the number one cause of death in the "civilized" world, causing more stress related illness than morning production meetings, or dentist appointments.  Not that any society that uses alarm clocks should be called "civilized!"  Ungodly, evil things, the work of Satan, I am sure...  Ooops, sorry, I have a series of posts planned for my "More efficient method of measuring time, and its passing."  You will want to stay tuned for that.

Anyway, tomorrow is Friday, which is great, and a workout day which is great, too.  I really look forward to the exertion, and work.  Exercise carries its own rewards, helps reduce stress, and it just makes me feel better.  I take the stairs at work more, and bring vegetables in my lunch.  I have become the kind of person I used to ridicule.  And, I don't care.

Last night was "Siege Warfare" from "Ancient Warfare Magazine" and a long run on the treadmill.  It turns out that sometimes the forces inside the city won because the surrounding army would run out of food.  This was surprising.  Most times you read about the besieged people starving, maybe that makes more compelling history.  Often negotiations ended the siege long before either side had a chance to run out of most things, and if negotiations failed both sides employed espionage to win the day.  What the world needs, really, is more history podcasts.  Somebody should look into that.

My oldest son, who has been going to the gym for quite a while told me I should push myself a little harder when using the resistance machines.  He feels that 10 repetitions (reps to us workout guys) should be all you can accomplish, that if you are not straining to get the last one, there is not enough weight.  So last night I added twenty pounds to everything.  I found out my oldest son can be a jerk.  When I was done my sides ached, and my arms and legs were like lead.  But, this morning, I feel really good.  Maybe he isn't so bad, after all.

But, enough about me.  What did you bring for lunch today?

Everything has a price.

Without a Monday the week has been thrown into chaos.  Days are crashing into each other, smashing up against nights, and things are looking bleak.  There is no order, no sense, and there is a lawless, violent attitude.  Wednesday, normally kind, polite, and considerate, actually pulled a knife on Tuesday night, and started forty five minutes earlier than was scheduled.  Some clocks were so confused they stopped working, and formed a small militia with the intent of straightening out the whole mess.

These clocks stole a mass transit bus, drove it through the Week Day Police Barricade and smashed into the Office of Temporal Management (OTM, in government shorthand).  Sadly, nobody was there, they had decided one day was not enough to celebrate the labor that had been performed over the course of the summer, the year, or all of history, they were not sure what period of labor was being honored on Labor Day.  But, they were pretty certain it would take at least seven days to pay a proper tribute.

Since clocks have such linear thinking they were unsure how to proceed and milled about the offices, making coffee, answering phones, filling in forms, and filing them away.  On Thursday the Superintendent of the Building of Reality Allocation where the OTM is located received a phone call complimenting the workers in that particular office.  It was the first time anyone had ever said anything nice about anybody anywhere in the building.  The caller actually said "my appointment went like clockwork, it started right on time, and a few ticks later I was on my way."

Now  it was the Superintendent who was unsure how to proceed.  After careful consideration, he issued an executive order firing everyone in the OTM.  It was the only reasonable course of action, he knew that the other offices were still filled with people just putting in their time, and one office filled with efficiency and swiss watch precision was going to make the rest of the place look even worse.

On Monday they accidentally hired the entire vacationing staff to fill the office, clocks are back to keeping time, and waking people at godless, terrible hours, and things are back to normal, at least until Memorial Day.

Life Explained Explains Time

Time is the most perplexing thing.  Allegedly, it is a constant, never changing, marching forward, seconds passing in a monotonous parade of consistency.  Disputing this is difficult, because the devices made to measure time deal in absolutes, precise machines designed to record one unit giving way to the next.  While in reality there are many variables involved in the passage of time.

A dentist office slows time to a crawl.  Forty five minutes in a dentists chair lasts almost a life time, in fact a root canal procedure takes almost as much time as it took to build the pyramids.  Dentists should use a calendar to time procedures.  

A day at work, even if you love your job, is a lengthy proposition, dragging on, passing minutes hammering away at your will to live.  But, a weekend is over almost before it begins.  As soon as the final bell tolls on Friday sending you home, whistling all the way, you have to hit the snooze button.

But, it does not end there.  Assuming, for example your work day is divided between tasks, some of which are more enjoyable, some less, and most work days are cut along these lines, then part of your day will go painfully, slowly ants marching inexorably back to the nest, other parts will drag almost to a stop, tar covered turtles carrying bricks up the side of a mountain.

The same is true of the weekend.  For example, tonight Louisville plays Kentucky in the Round of Sixteen (the Sweet Sixteen) in the NCAA basketball tournament, one of the biggest sports rivalries in existence extending into the post season.  This is a huge game, and the winner will move to the next round (the Elite Eight), and they will get there by defeating their hated in state rival, and the loser will go home, to stew in inconsolable misery, and doubt themselves, and everything they have ever believed (sorry about your luck, Kentucky).  This is the biggest, most venomous rivalry since the Aliens and the Predators squared off in Alaska, thanks to those pesky kids...  (oops sorry about the sports rant, and the Scooby Doo reference).

Anyway, that game will be so intense and enjoyable it will be over before you can finish your bowl of chips, but installing that new heating element in the oven will take about 15 minutes that will last about two and a half hours. 

All we are asking is equity.  Unpleasantness is part of life, but it should be compensated for, if you have to carry out difficult work that seems to last all day you should be allowed to leave when it is finished.  If part of your weekend is so pleasant, and entertaining that it shrinks hours into minutes, you should get a little extra weekend, right off the top, on Monday morning, preferably.  

When man first devised the method to track time, things were brutish, life was short and times were difficult.  Keeping track of how long it took was just a way to avoid thinking about how awful things were.  Now we are more sophisticated, we have taken so many steps to improve life.  It is time to "improve life."

With that in mind we are starting the "Life Explained Equitable Passage of Time" movement.  Please sign below to help us push this through.  We suggest you not use your real name, in case the time police decides to squash our puny little revolution, they are everywhere, you know?  In fact, you might want to use an important, intelligent sounding name, we suggest Einstein, or Aristotle, something people will notice.  "Well, if da Vinci thinks it is a good idea, so do I."

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We knew that, already.

In the early parts of the 20th century a radical new theory began to sweep through the scientific community, (there were no reliable vacuums in those days, so sweeping was the best they could hope for), that offered to explain almost everything in the universe.  It was called Quantum Mechanics, or Quantum Physics.

This new approach was considered revolutionary and many Mechanics, or Physicists, felt that it would explain almost everything everywhere, all the time.  Of course, scientist are kind of radical about those things and sometimes they get a little carried away.

However, being scientists, the first thing they did was rush over to the black board and start writing complex mathematical formulas that consisted mostly of letters, a few numbers and some zeros.








Soon enough, they realized that math with letters is really hard, and may be impossible, so they started doing experiments, which every one knows is the fun part of being a scientist.

What they found was shocking, if you put a cat in a closed room with cyanide, and it takes the cyanide, but you don't see it take the cyanide, only later you open the door and see the cat has taken the cyanide, or didn't take the cyanide until after you opened the door, wait, there was something about a switch, I think...  Well that is not a very good example for lay people like you guys.

Let's move onto time, apparently Quantum Mechanics or Physics, I am not sure why they ever used mechanics, I've done a little bit of auto repair, kind of, at least I do pump my own gas, well most of the time, sometimes I loan my wife my car when it is almost empty and she has to fill it up, though she is catching on to that little trick.  Anyway, Quantum Physics states that time can be a variable, dependent on placement and situation.  As explained here.

https://medium.com/the-physics-arxiv-blog/d5d3dc850933

Obviously, quantum physicists never had to read one of their articles, because that was the longest 5 minutes of my life.  It seemed like days, and I slept through the worst parts.  And, I swear to you, when you are in a traffic jam, or a doctor's waiting room time almost stops.  And on the weekend, time is shot from a cannon, and flies away, frighteningly fast.   We don't need a rocket scientist, or a quantum physicist to explain that, do we?

Don't forget to tune in tomorrow when we cover the Evolutionary Biology and the US Houses of Congress.

Thank you, From Washington.

Since people are do not seem to be suffering enough with the Sequester Budget Cuts, congress has passed an emergency measure requiring people to turn their clocks ahead 2 hours.

Thank you,

Your Elected Officials