Tuesday, February 2, 2010

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Punxsutawney Phil Has Ruined My Morning

I wake up this morning with the usual concoction of depression, hope (immediately followed by hopelessness), and acceptance. Before I said what up to Matt, Meridith, Al, and Anne, I did a mini-prayer for the groundhog to do whatever it had to do to shorten winter. I wasn’t against the groundhog doing some unlawful shit either. If it had to murder and pillage small neighborhoods to make it happen, then so be it. I’m tired of my nose running after being outside for 4 seconds.

Low and behold, that bastard casted a shadow. Why are we putting our trust in a groundhog? Is a groundhog a prairie dog? And is a prairie dog a guinea pig? I don’t want to put my trust in seasons over an enigma. Another question. Do California and Florida recognize Groundhog’s day as a holiday? “Oh, bro, that fat rat thing said that the temperature is going to be like 1 degree colder than normal these next 6 weeks, sucks man”—that was an excerpt of a fictional conversation I just made up between a Florida bro and a Cali bro.

I, Dub Jeezy, motion to put groundhog’s day in the hands of one special homeless man every year. (Editors Note: I do have a strange obsession with the homeless. It’s fine) His/her value to determining our seasons will be based on how incoherent and bummy the aforementioned bum has been throughout the year. It’s essentially the MVB award. I’d say that’s a pretty high honor for a person that dedicates his life to sleeping, panhandling, and all-around terrorizing people.

Congress, make it happen.

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