Dear Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Prognosticator of all Prognosticators,
I am truly disturbed by your recent prediction. I do not now, nor have I ever understood what gives you the authority to proclaim whether or not we will have 6 more weeks of winter.
Do you understand what 6 more weeks of winter means to a person like me? What it means to my family? It means we have to remain prisoners of this dreaded season that much longer. My children cannot go outside to burn off the extra energy they have been storing all winter long because it is too darn cold out. I cannot open the windows to let the fresh air in and the stale, virus infested air out. We have to continue to worry about catching the flu at the grocery store, shoveling the driveway, finding missing mittens before we leave the house.
You are condemning me to carry around these 10 extra pounds of winter/baby weight that are just dying to be shed on a warm, sunlit trail in the forest preserve. You are forcing my husband to continue to brave the hellish winter elements warming up the car and searching for a parking spot long after the rest of the family is safely inside the mall. You are upsetting baby Lucy by making her sit in the dark, under piles of blankets, on every trip to and from the house because it is too cold outside for her to even briefly feel the harsh air.
Why Phil? Why? Why do you do this? Why do you make us wait, year after year for the warm days of spring? Is it because you are a groundhog, hardly more than common vermin? Is it because the National Climatic Data Center says you are correct in your prediction less than 40% of the time, while you profess it is 90%? Is it because those goofballs in Pennsylvania tramp on your home and parade you around like some circus animal?
I understand if you do not wish to answer, if you feel your actions speak loud enough. Just understand that I am not happy with this. I do not condone this sort of selfish behavior, nor do I feel you should take out your frustrations on the millions of us patiently waiting for spring.
I wish you the best, until next February of course, when we must do this again.
Karleen
3 comments:
Dear Karleen,
You ask ME why?? Let me ask you, as a member of the human race, who sees fit, year after blasted year, to disturb my restful hibernation? Drag me out of my warm, dark comfortable hole in the ground that it is, subject me to the frigid air, bright light and the cacophony of talking heads with camera crews and artificial lights galore? Who among you saddled me with the ability to predict spring when, with all of your technology, your weathermen can't accurately forecast the weather from one day to the next?
Do I set a paw in your home, rudely jolting you from your slumber? Do you really need to wonder why, year after year, I delight in predicting another 6 weeks of winter? Because you people piss me off! Because I'm hoping you'll finally get tired of hearing it'll be another 6 wintery weeks! Please just leave me alone one year, just once, and find out how quickly spring arrives that year.
Until then, you can suck it until my Ambien and Valium cocktail get me back to where I was before you "higher life forms" ripped my world apart.
Screw you and your entire race,
Punxsutawney Phil
Dearest Phil,
I should have known you would answer my simple question with such anger and frustration. I too understand what it feels like when members of the human race come and trounce on your bed and wake you from a peaceful slumber. For that, I am sorry.
However ignorant this may seem, I figured you understood what your role as the Punxsutawney groundhog entails. I have the Internet, so I know that this tradition has been going on for 123 years and has included many fine groundhogs in your family. I suppose I wrongfully assumed your parents sat you down as a tot and informed you of the magnitude of your responsibility and its implications on "higher life forms" such as myself. Being a parent, I know I would encourage my children to be the best at what they do. Do you really want to be compared to the common groundhog, or worse yet, placed in the same league of prognosticators as Jimmy the Groundhog, Octoraro Orphie, and Buckeye Chuck? I think not Phil.
As much as I hate to be the one to break this to you, you should consider yourself lucky to have your home ransacked only once a year. You see, if we humans feel it is necessary to wake you, photograph you, force you to make frivolous predictions, all because our weathermen want to tell the masses what you think before going to their boards and making an accurate prediction, then we will. If we want to host parties on your land, rip you out of you home, fill your living space with bright lights, then we will. We have done this many times to many different species of animal.
What you are failing to see Phil, is that with the title of "higher life form" comes a great responsibility too. It is our job to rid the planet of things we consider useless. As proprietors of all earthly things we can stomp on, plow over, and refurbish any piece of land we want. We can wipe out an entire race of animals, if we want. (Don't believe me? Ever seen a buffalo outside a zoo?)
I do not mean to threaten, but your attitude has left me with little choice. You should be grateful that during this time of economic turmoil you have a cozy home, a good job, and plenty of pills to pop when you are stressed. I simply wanted to know why you try to sabotage such a good thing.
Enjoy your extra 6 weeks of sleep,
Karleen
Dear member of the opposable thumb brigade,
Go ahead, do your worst! We sub-earth dwellers can unite and make your world a living hell. Buried cables and fiber optics? Consider them shredded. But beware: Recall how you missed a few American Indians in your conquest of this "New World." Now most of you are heavily in debt to their casinos. Nice planning.
I didn't ask for this mantle of spring prediction to be passed down to me nor do I want it. I was meant for the stage! I've waxed and toned and kegeled in preparation for my impending stardom. I was born with jazz hands and the ability to high kick as no groundhog before me. The only thing holding me back from lighting up the Vegas Strip is that cockamaimy February 2nd superstition. Let it go, I'm begging you!
In fact, I'm not even a "Phil." In my heart of hearts I'm the Phabulous Phileesha. Madonna and Cher ain't got nothing on me! So can't you understand now? How would you feel if you were denied your lifelong dream and destiny all because of specie-ism? Your showgirls and actresses are all jealous of my obvious talents and the only way they can compete is by keeping me down in that dirt hole, forever tied to pharmaceuticals and a useless tradition where I am constantly chastised for delaying spring.
So please, write your congressmen, Obama even, and free me from my unjust enslavement! Yes, we can!
Viva Las Vegas
Pha-Phi
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