The complete and utter idiocy of the pagan-esque tradition known as Groundhog Day has grown exponentially. You can’t turn around without smacking a groundhog in his weather-predicting mouth.
We all know Punxutawney Phil, or however the Hell you spell the name of the small town in Pennsylvania with only that one dumb claim to fame. But did you know about Western Maryland Murray?
How about Nibbles? No?
Well, you must know about Smith Lake Jake, Patty Pagoda, Shubenacadie Sam, General Beauregard Lee and Wiarton Willie.
Groundhog Day itself is idiotic, like Paganism-lite, a way for God-fearing Christians to dabble in a bit of Nature worship on the side. But the proliferation of rodent weather prediction takes the dumbness to a level only the Tooth Fairy could reach.
Each town, and that’s only a small selection, relies to some degree on a rodent for weather prediction and/or tourism dollars.
And it’s just dumb. I mean, look at that a picture of a groundhog.
Look at his face. Cute, you say? I say that’s not the visage of a trained meteorologist. Ol’ Phil in Pennsylvania is only right 39
percent of the time, anyway.
Dumb Things of the Week 