The other night, after departing a book signing at the Duchess in the university district (big shout-out to the staff there, and to a lively crowd), I spent much of the night listening to the broadcast of the Washington-UCLA football game. You know, the one between one program that seems to be going somewhere (if the coach doesn’t go somewhere first), and the one that seems to be . . . well, where the hell exactly is UCLA headed, now that it’s made this boffo, dynamic, forward-leaning move to the Big Ten?

In that second half, I heard the UW play-by-play guy, Tony Castricone, refer to “today,” – as in, “Demond Williams has 64 yards rushing today,” at least half a dozen times. This, despite the fact it was 10:15 p.m. and we still hadn’t breached the fourth quarter. (But you’ve gotta love the Pac-12-After-Dark notes.)

In other words, it was nighttime, which, unless the city of Pasadena has domed the Rose Bowl since the Bruins last played there Nov. 8, ought to have been evident to anybody sitting in a radio booth.

Since I wrote about this topic maybe a decade ago, I’m convinced it’s gotten worse. We don’t seem to be able to distinguish today from tonight. Announcers have misplaced the mental faculties required in discerning whether it’s daytime or nighttime, and no amount of rehearsing gets it right.

This is serious business, and I’m on a crusade to be made whole. I’ve written my Congressmen and women, I’ve made impassioned statements in front of city councils, I’ve led Saturday protests. I’ve consulted attorneys. I’ve even written the White House, believing that anybody who can put an end to 73 wars should be able to solve this problem.

Actually, I’ve done none of that. I’ve mostly just done a lot of caterwauling when the car radio informs me that “We’ve had a lot of unforced errors tonight,” just after the announcer notes that a receiver might have dropped the ball because he was looking into the sun.

I’m convinced it’s getting worse. Maybe 15 or 20 years ago, I was listening to a radio broadcast of a college-basketball opener and was struck by how the announcer kept referencing “tonight,” even though it was maybe 2 o’clock (in the afternoon, not a.m.). In succeeding years, I’ve vowed to keep a season-long running tally of how many times basketball announcers tangle the time of day. Because I tend to watch a lot of college basketball, I usually give up the ghost by Thanksgiving.

These days, a disturbing trend has become exasperating. Used to be, you’d mostly hear the misstep from basketball announcers, inside a building without windows. That was bad enough; however cloistered they might be inside a gym, wouldn’t you think the average person has sort of a native impulse telling him/her whether it’s daytime or night?

Now you increasingly hear game announcers, staring out at a football field where the shadows are minimal and people in the stands are wearing sunglasses, saying, “That Joe Bob Jenkins has been a real workhorse tonight.”

Let’s scrutinize this further. I’m pretty sure the misuse of “tonight” when “today” is correct is much more prevalent than vice versa. And I suppose announcers blurting “today” when midnight is approaching will rationalize it by saying that’s technically correct, because “today” covers all 24 hours, right?

That’s a cop-out. On July Fourth, do we say, “Yeah, we’re going to the fireworks today.”? Do we say, “We’re going out to dinner today.”? When’s the last time you heard anybody say, “We’re going to go trick-or-treating today.”?

By now you’re channeling the old (1969) Chicago tune, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”

I’d contend that back then, they did.