#Underheard: Poor Old Michael Finnegan, Begin Again

From the desk of Broderick Mitchell --

And poor old me - beginning again - for that matter.

Has anyone else grown tired of this spring-forward nonsense? I appreciate the mnemonic, but the funny thing is that every spring, I tend to fall back into old habits. Staying up later than I should. Touring the house and tinkering with clock hands. Changing out batteries in devices I forgot I had, and amassing batteries in a box I'll never do anything with. What can you do with such a thing? I had a box of double- and triple-A batteries a few years ago, which I took to a local recycling center. The sign on the front gate said "batteries", yet the guy in charge that day - he looked like a Dennis, as I recall - told me where the batteries could go instead. In short, they didn't recycle those kinds of batteries. I explained that the sign didn't identify the type of batteries they wanted. Too bad, crabbed Dennis. I shouldn't keep them, yet the box overflows.

I was watching the news a few days ago and kept glancing back at the screen every time the reporter mentioned ion batteries. It finally dawned on me that he was pronouncing it as an "aye yon" battery or almost an "I yawn" battery. I don't know if this is wrong, but it was unnatural to my ear.

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I had another odd dream a week or two ago - before the springing forward routines, at least. My wife, Dalchini, and I were in a supermarket - I think it was one of the local Groas Bros. Superette stores. Wherever it was, it had double-wide aisles to allow for parades. I don't know how I knew this, but I did. Dalcy and I turned onto a Mexican food aisle when one such parade started. There were banners and music playing, and people were marching and holding signs. The parades were sponsored by various companies that paid one or two parade participants to stop and point at items on the shelves we should buy. One such woman stopped and talked about the large Mexican-style cakes available and how women spent most of the day baking, frosting, and preparing these treats for sale. Dalcy was less than impressed with the ordeal, and we discreetly left the parade zone. Not before, however, she insisted one of the parade participants looked like - and I quote - "Count Chocula from Sesame Street." My attempts to correct her were unsuccessful because she insisted the Count and Count Chocula were somehow related. By then, the parade had caught up to us, and the swelling sounds of loud mariachi music prompted everyone to dance like a bad White Noise parody.

I later had toast for breakfast, if you're curious.

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I would love to spend time fact-checking the crap I find online. For example, L.M. Boba sent me this little gem not too long ago:

On a train through Peru in the 1920s one of the carriages had just three men on board travelling separately. They soon introduced themselves to each other with one being Mr. Bingham, one being Mr. Powell and the last being Mr. Bingham-Powell. None of them were related to each other.

It's a lovely story, and I'd like to think that Mr. Powell is an ancestor of one of my other colleagues, Odem "Totem Pole" Powell, but I doubt it. This event occurred roughly a century ago - what extant resources are still around to confirm this?

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I saw a T-shirt for "Places The Lotion In The Basket Lives Matter". Who does this benefit, and who would wear it?