Oh, Punxsutawney Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Why are you doing this to me again? You came out this morning and, after not seeing your shadow, you predicted an early spring.
I want to have hope. I do. But I have a hard time believing you. Let's count down 10 reasons why.
10. You're trying too hard. Just look at your full name: Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Sage of Sages, Prognosticator of Prognosticators, and Weather Prophet Extraordinary. Methinks you are trying to make up for your lack of prediction prowess by sticking a bunch of titles after your name.
9. While I'm on the subject of names, your name is Phil. Phil. Not Phillip. Phil. Doesn't quite invoke a sense of trust. The only Phil that did that was Phil Donahue. I don't even buy everything Phil Jackson has to tell me. Case in point: "If you meet Buddha in the lane, feed him the ball." Seriously, what does that mean?
8. I'm sitting here with drenched socks after slogging through two feet of slush and freezing rain. I had to pop four Advil after almost slipping on the three inches of ice caked on the sidewalk. Early spring? Yeah right. It will take 'til July to get rid of the last of this mess.
7. You never seem to age, which is just weird. And creepy.
6. You're a fake. You don't even live in Gobbler's Knob. You live at the Punxsutawney Library. They plonk you into that (heated) burrow right before you are supposed to perform. Not quite the Method actor, huh? You couldn't even spend the night before your big day out there? Frankly, that makes me doubt your commitment to the job.
5. You and your fellow oversized rodents are, well, kinda grumpy. You bite people. In 2009, your cousin Chuck, NYC's official weather-groundhog, bit Mayor Bloomberg.
4. Your accuracy. Speaking of meteorological groundhogs, many are doing a little better at this forecasting gig than you.
3. Did I mention my drenched socks already?
2. We don't get the day off for your holiday. Which peeves me a wee bit more than my drenched socks.
1. According to Stormfax Almanac, you are right about 39 percent of the time. Not even half of the time.
Phil, I hate to break it to you, but you suck.
Image via Eddie~S/Flickr