It's the first day of February and we are currently entrenched in a nasty blizzard. As some of you may know, today is not a significant day on the 'ol calendar...except in one instance:
It's the day before Groundhog Day.
Which by all accounts doesn't mean much...except that a rotund rodent has all of our fates wrapped up in his fat little paws. Will he see his shadow? Will it be six more weeks of winter?
Punxatawney Phil has us all at his mercy as he slumbers in a freaking climate controlled little groundhog bunker with all the groundhog treats he can eat. What does he care that we're all slipping on patches of ice, driving on unsafe roads, and trying to lay in supplies for our families? He's got handlers that see to those little mundane details.
He doesn't have to leave his home to search for food. He doesn't have to worry about giant bruises on his furry wide backside. He doesn't even have to worry about finding a job in this economy.
'Ol Punxatawney Phil is set for life. His job is to predict the weather one day a year...and it's always the same forecast.
Snow. Ice. Cold. Misery.
For six more weeks.
Gee, Phil...how do I get that job?