We’ve all heard the expression, “Well, tell me something I don’t know!” That’s exactly what I was thinking tonight while watching a news report announcing daylight saving time increases incidents of automobile accidents, heart attacks and strokes. That’s almost a no-brainer.

But I fear that’s only the tip of the ice cube. Losing that hour of precious sleep hurts our society in countless ways, particularly spiritually. I’m writing this at 10 p.m., March 12. In two hours my digital DVR clock will eerily change on its own from midnight to 1 a.m.

Obviously getting up for church becomes increasingly unlikely for an aging sloth with the sleeping patterns of an owl. How many others will be waking up at 10 a.m., realizing it’s actually 11 a.m.? And what happens when that becomes a pattern? I’ll tell you what: churches go bankrupt, souls are lost, and crime ratchets up to frightening proportions. Bottom line, the terrorists win.

A dozen states, including Alaska, New Mexico, and even Guam, which technically isn’t a state yet, have petitioned to have D.S.T. abolished. More states will follow as good citizens become aware of the dire statistics and ask themselves, “Is one extra hour of daylight at a time I’m watching my favorite TV shows anyway, worth a terrible car wreck or debilitating stroke?”

Skeptics will refuse to believe the sobering statistics, but I have a hunch daylight saving time has killed more people than cigarettes and the Vietnam War combined.

The only conceivable up-side to my hour of lost sleep is my habit of tolerating inconveniences rather than taking time to fix them has finally paid off. When my $8 Wal-Mart watch broke a couple years ago, my brother Paul gave me a Casio he had in storage. It keeps perfect time, except for gaining a minute every couple weeks.

I’m about as mechanical as a kangaroo, so setting a digital watch isn’t even in my realm of possibility. I’ve spent the last six months looking at my watch, and then most times remembering to subtract an hour and roughly five minutes. I then remind myself to ask either Paul or one of my few intelligent friends to set it when I see them. I’ve forgotten that part every time. 

Thus, in two hours I’ll probably have the only watch in town that doesn’t have to be touched. I’m not saying it’s always better to procrastinate, but I think it’s self-evident that more times than not it pays dividends. 

I like that old adage, “even a broken clock is right twice a day,” but hate the “even a blind dog sniffs out a biscuit once in a while.” It’s a moot, gross understatement. A dog’s sense of smell is thousands of times stronger than ours, thus a blind dog will sniff out a biscuit buried in a pile of rotting onions. I’ve seen it done.

But concerning that time change, I would never point out one phenomenon that robs quality of life without suggesting another that enriches that quality. Two words: TOP RAMEN. Yes, that wonderful meal that fills and satisfies for around half a buck and has been the staple of every impoverished college kid since New Testament days.

My favorite foods, to name a few, are spaghetti, corned beef/cabbage and soft-boiled eggs. But if I were stranded on an island with Sophia Vergara and had access to only one food, it would be my expanded Top Ramen concoction. It’s beyond delicious and would be selfish not to share my recipe.

You’ll need two packages of Ramen noodles, one foil packet pork flavoring and one packet oriental flavor, 3 oz. sliced mushrooms (toadstools can be substituted), chopped onion, sliced green peppers, 2 oz. chopped pork chop.

Boil noodles and add flavor packets as directed; add veggies and pork; season with black and red pepper. Eat till you’re stuffed, go to bed shortly thereafter with Rolaids nearby for ensuing acid-reflux, sleep like a baby and call your boss in the morning saying you’ll be one hour late every day until Oct. 7. That’s when we reclaim that sadistically stolen hour.