You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Punxsutawney Phil.
He is a rat bastard.
He is a rodent with a bad attitude, a hairy enema with a track record for making me unhappy.
Punxsutawney Phil is a bad pill, a sour puss, a Punxsutawney punk.
Why?
Because he is so damned negative.
He is the reminder that I am cold and it will be cold another six weeks.
This little rat bastard comes out of his little rat hole and signifies that winter is going nowhere fast.
Now my friends in California could give a rat’s ass about this rat bastard, but that’s because my West Coast brethren don’t know jack about winter.
But the rest of the country, we have seasonal affective disorder and we need sun, we need warmth, we need hope.
Punxsutawney is a harbinger of doom.
At least that’s what I was thinking this morning as I watched Punxsutawney Phil predict another 6 weeks of winter.
February 2nd. It’s just another day. February 2nd. I wouldn’t think about February 2nd if you paid me to.
February 2nd? It’s one 365th of a year. Just another day. It’s a blink of the eye, a so what in the cosmic computation of life.
But every year, February 2nd finds me, slaps me in the face, has a way of pissing me off. February 2nd makes me mad, makes me sad, makes me crazy.
Rain or shine, sun or no-sun, shadow or no-shadow, February 2nd becomes a reminder that life can be a cold car seat while wearing shorts.
February 1st had so much promise. It was sunny and 60 in Nashville. The future was so bright I was actually wearing shades.
I sat in a lawn chair facing South West and absorbed solar-powered Vitamin D. My face, my skin, my inner soul said thanks.
February 1st, the little rat bastard was nowhere to be seen, not even a thought in my mind.
Spring was coming, life was good.
Then February 2nd and the reminder that a rat bastard who eats his own rat waste is going to see his shadow and run for his little rat hole.
Punxsutawney Punk is a symbol for another six weeks of frozen hell. Punxsutawney is a furry puppet for those stupid white guys with the top hats who are part of some secret rodent society known as the Punxsutawney Phil Club.
Every February 2nd, hundreds of inebriated denizens of stupid brave cold and darkness and descend upon a little place called Gobblers Knob in Punxsutawney, Pa.
I got nothing against Punxsutawney or Pennsylvania or Gobblers Knob, but I hate Phil.
I can count the things I truly hate on one hand.
The Taliban, Jelly Fish, Pejorative eye rolls, fresh cat box poops and yes, I hate PHIL.
Phil is a cock roach with fur. He’s a hamster with a urinary tract infection. Phil calls himself a ground-hog, but he’s really a lump of fecal inadequacy. And I don’t even know what that means.
Phil = shadow = more frozen tundra.
It’s that simple.
I hate winter and I hate Phil.
Breaking news: February 2nd: Phil saw his shadow and forecast six more weeks of winter weather. Load up them shot guns boys. It’s time to kill us some PHIL.
What bothers me is that Phil always sees his shadow. According to the numb nuts who celebrate this freak-fest, Phil has seen his shadow 101 times. He has only NOT SEEN HIS SHADOW 17 times. The rest of the time, nobody knows what the hell PHIL saw. Maybe he was too busy shoving his own rat head up his own rat ass to see anything other than my dark contempt.
Come on Punxsutawney, get real. Quick jerking my chain. 118 versions of wake up PHIL and 101 times he pisses himself? You have better odds guessing the powerball numbers in Vietnam than you do waking up to spring time courtesy of Phil.
According to the Pittsburgh Post Gazette: Phil’s weather predicting stems from a German tradition that says if a hibernating animal casts a shadow Feb. 2, the Christian holiday of Candlemas, winter will last another six weeks. Spring would come early if there is no shadow.
I’ll tell you what might change Phil’s tune. Tell the little rabies carrying disease bag that if he doesn’t predict warmth, and soon, we’re sicking the hounds on him. See Phil run! Now I’m attending this February Fest.
Hang in there people. Just 42 more days of ice and snow and rear ending the guy in front of you.
Thanks Phil, you rat bastard!
Life’s Crazy™