Amid the dispute over the time change, Donald Trump published the cell phone number of his fellow Republican Tom Cotton and urged people in Arkansas to call the senator. Cotton is blocking the Sunshine Protection Act in the Senate; the bill aims to make daylight saving time permanent and eliminate the twice-yearly clock change.
The US President wrote on Truth Social that Cotton was a friend but, for some reason, was blocking a “very important” bill—one that requires only a single vote to pass in the Senate. Then came the call to action for voters back home: Call Tom on his cell phone—followed by the number. Around 4 a.m. German time, only voicemail answered, and even that was full: “Not enough storage space to leave a message.” The article left it open whether this was due to outraged Arkansans or people simply wanting to know why winter mornings are so dark.
Trump justifies permanent daylight saving time by citing the extra light in the afternoon. He argues that PGA Tour golfers need it to finish their tournaments, as do recreational golfers, tennis players, hunters, and farmers. No one wants to spend precious time twice a year fiddling with clocks.
Cotton countered on X: He doesn’t like the time change either. However, Congress has introduced permanent daylight saving time several times, only to repeal it each time Americans were confronted with absurdly late sunrises in winter. People in Arkansas didn’t want their children going to school in pitch darkness. For him, Arkansas always comes first.
That was enough to prompt a second post from Trump. If Cotton really put Arkansas first, he would give the people an extra hour of daylight; instead, he was blocking the bill out of ego.
The House of Representatives had already approved the bill in July, but it remains stalled in the Senate. In the US, just as in Europe, most states change their clocks twice a year—with the exceptions of Hawaii and most of Arizona.
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Finally, someone is in charge who doesn’t just change the time but also provides the switchboard to go with it. In the past, such things required lobbyists, committees, and months of legislative scheduling. Today, all it takes is a post, a mobile number, and the firm conviction that golf courses constitute the nation’s true infrastructure.
Cotton has the thankless task of reminding people about the children who are still counting stars at 7:30 in January while searching for their school bus. Trump has the more rewarding role: he promises everyone an extra hour of evening light and leaves the morning hours to the senator’s ego. This is politics as a customer complaint. The voicemail was full, the storage space exhausted, and the country remained confused twice a year—while somewhere in Arkansas stands a man whose contact list has just become a matter of public record.
You can love or hate daylight saving time. You might consider changing clocks a relic of the past. The method, however, is more troubling: if a fellow party member can only be reached via mass call, one wonders what might be released next should someone hold the wrong opinion on lunch breaks. The sun rises when it pleases. The voicemail, on the other hand, filled up right on schedule.
AI gen story & images by Contentworld
