From What Time Is It? by M. Ilin and illustrated by N. Lapshin, 1932.

"Because all the clocks disagree on the time of day, it is left up to the residents to decide their own temporal reality.  All residences exist in a time warp.  If the clock is right, you are hallucinating."  From McGill Daily, Dec. 8, 1983.

At the Sharp Flats, in Salem, Virginia, the clocks simultaneously show 10:40 and 11:40.  As constant investigators of such phemonena, we diagnosed the problem at a glance.  Note how the treble clef on the clockface is backwards.  It's been said that clinging to backward symbols keeps society from moving forward without the weight of baggage from the past.

There is a six-hour discrepancy at this clock tower in Scranton, Pennsylvania, documented by Scott Chenoweth.  Though we weren't on location to discover the exact cause of the timely weirdness, we offer this photo to help hone the insights of would-be investigators of temporal anomalies.  The more clocks one sees that are "on the fritz" (Fritz being the German clockmaker who first went "cuckoo"), the better attuned one will be to time warps in the wild.

We spotted a temporal anomaly in this clock tower from Toike Oike, 1965.  It's simultaneously 9:00 and 3:00.

Here's some timelessness courtesy of Wake Forest's 1991 yearbook.

When we're asked, as chronologicians, to correct a temporal anomaly, we often have to explain that it's not as easy as resetting a clock, for there are mighty forces out there.  From NY School of Agriculture at Alfred University's 1942 yearbook.

Here's some relative time from Swarthmore's 1926 yearbook.

We encountered many temporal anomalies in Martinsburg, West Virginia.  This one, at the Veterans of Foreign Wars buiilding, displayed two different times on its faces, both incorrect.  Due to the great number of faulty clocks in Martinsburg, we suspect a city-wide rift in the fabric of time/space.

"Lost in time.  He hardly believes it himself."  From UFO Newsclipping Service, 1988.

Because timelessness is defined as zero succession and infinite simultaneity, clock towers without clock hands are paragons of timelessness.  This handless clock tower near Mansfield, England was documented by Stephen McKay.

The clock faces are ten minutes in disgreement in this temporal anomaly documented by Wake Forest's 1991 yearbook.  We tend to blame the toilet paper for causing a disturbance in the fabric of space/time.  Mark Anderson has asked, "Is architecture toilet paper or timeless art?"  The clock faces seem to answer that question: timeless.

Jonathan Caws-Elwitt spotted a temporal anomaly in The Lying Voices, by Elizabeth Ferrars:

"If you take a flashlight and shine it on a sundial at night, you can make the sundial tell any time you want" (Joshua Harris, I Kissed Dating Goodbye).  From Pfeiffer's 1961 yearbook.

We spotted a temporal anomaly while virtually re-visiting the charming Danish village of Solvang, California via Google Street View.  Facing south, the clocks on the downtown street corner proclaim that it's 2:20.  Facing north, it's 9:49.  From the east and west, it's 12 36.  Amazingly, when you virtually cross the intersection via Google Street View, it takes about 4 and a half hours according to the clock.  Note the clock faces as you wait at the red light, then click forward and marvel at how long that light lasted!  (Note: don't click too far down the road, or you'll zoom too far forward.  Click just in the intersection itself so as to inch forward.  You may or may not have to rotate slightly to see the clock on your left.)

Our last visit to Solvang found us spending the night in a haunted clock tower, and we made a video about the bizarre experience.

We spotted a temporal anomaly at Harrisonburg's James Madison University.  But we couldn't get anywhere near the clock in question to diagnose the cause of the time slip.  Have you ever tried to park at a university?  Because we couldn't investigate further, we made this collage; it's meaningless, but the anomaly seemed to warrant us dedicating some of our time to it, one way or another.

We encountered a great many temporal anomalies in Martinsburg, West Virginia.  This one, at a school, warmed our heart on a very cold day, because both clocks showing different (and wrong) times meant that school was probably out early.  (Classroom education, obviously, is one of society's very most dunderheaded notions.)

We encountered a temporal anomaly in Jenkintown, Pennsylvania.  At 4 p.m., it was simulaneously 1:25 and 10:31.  We passed this anomaly on our way to visit a family member at a neurological rehabilitation clinic, and in the hallway outside his room was a framed painting (eerie! bizarre!) featuring an obscured element.  Could the obscured element be a gold pocket watch, in the tradition of Salvador Dalí's famous melting timepiece hanging off a branch in "Persistence of Memory"?  If so, we'll credit this painting for triggering temporal anomalies in the area.  By the way, we overheard a physical therapist saying that she had to time a patient's treatment according to her stopwatch because none of the clocks on the floor were in agreement.

The city of An Oghmagh, Northern Ireland seems to exist within a rift in the fabric of time/space.  Temporal anomalies documentarian Kenneth Allen offers three proofs.  The first occurs at the troubling intersection of two streets with the same name (that's always playing with fire), and the clock (four hours early) is situated below a word missing its apostrophe.  (Grammatical anomalies may, for reasons still foggy, trigger temporal anomalies all on their own.)  Two "Campsie" streets, two (or more?) "Charlies" ... it's all a lot for the time to keep up with.  The second proof is of a clock that proclaims "3:17" at 11:00 a.m.  The third proof is of a clock displaying "6:15" at 11:30 a.m.  For any would-be time travelers, An Oghmagh offers a city-wide portal.