Monday, February 9, 2009

Screw Punxsatawney Phil

So... It's winter.

STILL.

And apparently it will be for an extra six weeks because of some East coast yuppie of a rodent. What kind of a holiday is Groundhog day anyway?

I watched this year's festivities, always eager to involve myself in another holiday hoping I can overeat and go shopping, and not only was I disappointed, but a little disturbed at the whole thing. Thousands of people come to watch these respectable grown men (I assume they were respectable because they were wearing top hats) pull this thing (what even is a groundhog? I think they're like ligers and don't exist anywhere except in trendy zoos) out of a box and stroke it like it is their firstborn child. Then they proceed to call this overgrown hamster all these grandiose names like "the seer of seers, prognosticators of ALL prognosticators". You're kidding, America. This is the best we've got? No wonder we can't figure out the economy crisis, or how to get our troops out of Iraq--our best man is in a cage in Pennsylvania. But in case you thought this was enough action for one year, there's more! The respectable top hats set Phil on a tree stub and hold him in place (from what I could see I don't even think he had legs to move on anyway) then all of them pull out instruments that I haven't seen since eighth grade Geometry and they start measuring the gerbil's hypoteneuse or something, but apparently that part is really important because right after that we get the big prognosis:

MORE WINTER

Thanks bud.
Now don't think I'm anti-seasons, I love the seasons. Winter is great when it is Christmas time and you don't really have to drive anywhere, you can just sit at home in your embarrassing socks and sip hot cocoa while watching old VHSes.
But then Christmas is over. And suddenly winter is miserable. You're stuck wearing practical shoes that make you feel like a school teacher from the early nineties. The nose is constantly precipitating and forces you to be a sniffer or a blower. Both are unattractive. Then your hands are so cold you feel like a villain from a Disney movie because you're always rubbing them up in the middle of your chest; you might as well be muttering "I'll get you my pretty!" That's a real friend winner.
I don't hate winter. It just doesn't make me quite as happy as summer.
So I've stopped recycling, I bathe in gasoline and key every hybrid car I see, just to do my part in speeding up this whole global warming thing.
Be the change you want to see in the world.