Groundhog Day is once again upon us... again. It seems like it was just yesterday - or was it?
I missed the prognosticator of prognosticator, the seer of seer's prediction this morning on the news. I had to look it up on the internet. Alas, as it was told, Phil saw his shadow, which, as tradition holds, means six more weeks of dreary winter.
I am not sure who came up with this tradition, but it had to be the work of an insane man. What does a groundhog seeing his shadow have to do with winter? It doesn't make much sense at all. What does a rodent's shadow have to do with weather prediction?
After giving some thought to this inane tradition, I have come up with some other potentially ludicrous methods of telling the future. Perhaps one will catch on and we can gather together and perform the prediction ceremony each year at an undisclosed "knob".
On March 16th, if a Basset Hound named "Chugs" eats his own vomit, the winner of the NCAA tournament shall arise from the west.
On April 9th, if the cock crows thrice, Biff Henderson will finally admit that he is really Oprah's long lost brother.
On May 26th, if the sweat from my armpits have bled through both my shirts after a long day of teaching, there will be six more weeks of school. We'll have my brother Jacob perform the ceremony.
On July 18th, if Paris Hilton sees her shadow, it will be the first time. (For those that might not get this one, you see, Paris Hilton is so skinny, she doesn't even have a shadow. If you are still confused by this joke, you might actually be Paris Hilton.)
On September 18th, if a moose hoots at the moon, Mayor McCheese will finally get that unicorn he always wanted and ride across a rainbow.
On October 1st, if Angelina Jolie adopts a child, Jennifer Aniston will make another chick flick to get back at Brad. Okay, that one might actually happen.
Happy Groundhogs Day everybody. I hope to not writing this same post tomorrow.
In the words of the great Phil Connors:
When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.