All of the usual suspects sat around the large oak table, occupying the center of Sarah’s Diner. The members of the Circular Congregation Breakfast Club were finishing their morning repasts of eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, pancakes, biscuits, gravy, and a bevy of other calorie and cholesterol enhancing goodness. Partial slices of toast sopped up the remaining yoke dribble from eggs-over-easy, Sarah made sure another round of coffee filled each cup, and satisfied bellies strained the holding capacity of shirt buttons.

Following the unspoken tradition, each took a moment to open his gastronomic relief valve by issuing forth a slight burp (within the guidelines of breakfast diner etiquette) — followed by the customarily mumbled, “Excuse me.” In the case of Big John Hudson, his belch was not that slight, strained the boundaries of etiquette, and had the inexcusable fragrance of three cups of coffee and one sausage and sauerkraut omelet.

The next item on the unofficial agenda was to begin the discussion on what was wrong with the world and who should be blamed — solutions were rarely part of such discussions.

“Everyone finally agrees with me,” Jimmy began the dialogue with his favorite topic — himself.

“I don’t agree with that, at all,” countered Harrison Winkle, as he wiped away a tear brought on by Big John Hudson’s less-than-subtle sauerkraut release. “I can’t speak for everyone here, but I doubt that they agree with you, either.”

“I don’t always agree with Harry,” chimed in Tommy Jones, the senior statesman of the group.  “But I have a hard time believing EVERYONE could agree with ANYONE about ANYTHING…even if it was just once”

“I read it in the paper the other day,” Jimmy continued, as he waved off Harry’s verbal jabs. “It was in the newspaper, not that internet nonsense, so you know it’s true”

“Don’t make fun of the internet,” chided Mort (the guy that once stayed up all night trying to “finish reading the internet”). “Without the internet, Big John would have to go to bars and struggle with face-to-face rejection. Instead, he can enjoy the impersonal rejection found behind the safety of a computer screen — in the comfort of his mother’s basement.”

“A new poll came out right after the time change,” Jimmy refused to be distracted by commentary regarding Big John’s dating failures. “Everyone agrees with me that Daylight Saving Time is a stupid idea. Everyone agrees with me that the line between the Eastern and Central time zones is in the wrong place. And everyone agrees with me that I should be put in charge of straightening out the whole mess.”

“I heard about that poll on one of those talk-radio stations,” Arnold Tobin jumped into the fray with his own take on the subject. Arnold was a failed politician in the making, and listened to talk-radio as part of his on-going training. “It said a third of the folks polled want the official time to be set on Daylight Savings Time. Another third want it to be Standard Time. The final third don’t give a flyin’ flip, as long as the time remains the same all year round.”

“That’s what I said,” crowed Jimmy. “Everyone agrees with me.”

“Nope,” Harry, sensing a chance get the upper hand, jumped back into the tag team conversation. “Only a third of the folks agree with you.”

“Right,” Jimmy persisted with a dismissive wave of his hand and a mumbled “Machs nix,” followed by a more audible, “That’s what I said. Everyone agrees with me,” Jimmy skewed poll results like an MSNBC reporter. “My plan is for the time zone line to follow the Indiana/Ohio border.”

“That would split Michigan in half,” countered Arnold, sensing a political hot potato that needed his avoidance.

“Exactly,” Jimmy continued to expound on his plan. “Just like Kentucky and Tennessee, Detroit would be in the Eastern Time Zone and the Center of the Universe would be on Central Time. The sun at noon would finally be directly overhead”

“Well…,” thought Tommy Jones, trying not to acknowledge that Jimmy might be on to something.  “The west side is the best side.”

The conversation around the big, round table slowed for a moment as the members of the Congregation begrudgingly considered the possibilities of Jimmy’s plan.

“Hey!” piped up Big John Hudson, “I don’t struggle with face-to-face rejection. I do it all the time!”