Do You Know What Time It Is? by Jono Sarver

Hey Friend-Os!

Do you like to know what time it is? Do you use clocks, watches, cellphones, sundials, the Swasey Bells, length of one's shadow in relation to the day of the year, or any other kind of instrument or device to determine what time it is? Well I do. In fact, most of the developed world does too I believe. In particular, a lot of people here at Camp Denidoo like to know what time it is... for instance, the professor of my 8:30 philosophy lecture.

Well homies, let me tell (read: bore) you with (what probably is not) a captivating, titillating, enthralling, and exciting story from my life. A few mornings ago I was awakened by my cellphone's alarm. I reached over my bed and turned it off, but before I had time to actually dismount my bed who's height rivals that of Mt. Everest, Giant Sequoia trees, the Petronas Towers, some buildings in Dubai, Lebron James, and several other really fucking tall things, I fell back into a moderately deep sleep. I awoke 50 minutes later to realize that it was already 8:40 AM. "Well, fuck me softly with a chainsaw!" I thought as I not-so-quickly dawned the same clothes I had worn the day before -- minus the tye-dye bandana, used to cover the copious amounts of grease in my hair -- and began my oh-so-speedy amble to class.

Now fast forward a few days. Again, I'm headed to my morning nod-session. This time however, I'm pretty confident I'm on time for class. I walk out of Shep, turn towards Huffty-Duffty, climb the set of stairs, choose to go left at the railing past East, look up at the Huffman clock and... "HOLY-FUCKING-BALLS-OF-LANCE-ARMSTRONG! Its already 9:mudda-fuckin'10!" I was late again! How could this happen? Quickly I turned to the bloke next to me and explained that he, "better move like shit through a goose, hombre, and get yo-self to classizzle!" I mounted my "imaginary horse" with expeditious haste and took off to class at a somewhat embarrassing pace. I arrived at Knapp and began flying (not really, my horse ain't no freakin' Pegasus!) up the stairs. As I passed the 2nd floor landing I checked my phone to see how late I was running and what kind of excuse I could formulate which would explain a sufficiently tardiness. Well, guess what Denisonians!? My phone told me it was in fact only 8:15. I had been duped! Fooled! Tricked! Bamboozled! Hornswaggled! The wool had been pooled over my eyes! The clock which sits so majestically upon Huff-daddy was WRONG!

Well thanks for reading everyone. Have a time-accurate day!

Jono "The Bomb-dot-com" Sarver

P.S. For a fee of only $21947.99, each of you can join The Association and help me to reset this damn clock! (In no way should this comment be considered a jab at my good friend H.B. Augustine)