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Groundhog Day, 2012

In Uncategorized on February 2, 2012 at 8:07 pm

I was up early  and watching CNN when the news came on live from Punxsutawney, PA.  Phil, the perennial forecaster groundhog, popped out of his bungalow wearing Razor shades, Crocs and Speedos.  He proceeded to hump the bare leg of a short skirted newscaster. Afterwards, he climbed into a ragtop with what passes for a groundhog babe in a bikini and drove away merrily to the beach.  A nearby witness, Sholanda McCann, asserted she saw him pop the cap and take a swig from a frosty bottle of Rolling Rock before he disappeared from view.  The surprising thing about this story is not that they make Speedos in size groundhog (which, in fact, may be the largest size), but that it was warm enough on a February morning in Pennsylvania for a female newscaster to feel comfortable without wearing panty hose.

My wife insists that I recall the TV report inaccurately.  She thinks that either I had accidentally tuned a Fellini movie on the Spanish language or that I need an adjustment in my medications.  I, however, know what I saw, and am willing to testify to it under oath on any court where a basketball game is not actively in progress.

It has been a tad warm so far this winter, which is okay by me.  When I was younger, I used to think that I would like to live for a spell in a more northerly clime – attend snow festivals, take up ice fishing and snowmobiling and dancing Polkas.  In my wildest dreams, I imagined myself winning a hurling trophy or two.  Nowadays, my creaky old bones don’t tolerate cold like they used to.  My fingers shriek at the touch of ice cubes.  If there is frost on the ground, I bundle up like an Inuit to climb the steps for the morning paper.  I will cross the street to avoid passing on the sidewalk a person smoking a Kool.

It could be that we are being set up for a fall.  After all, the latter weeks of February and the whole month of March could hammer us with freeze and frost the likes of which we cannot imagine.   We might be on the verge of a beating along the lines of Macaulay Culkin entering the ring against George Foreman, Hulk Hogan and Dog the Bounty Hunter.  However long it lasts, I plan to enjoy it.  At least it gives newscasters something else to talk about besides Italian cruise liners and Republican presidential candidates, which it dawns on me behave in remarkably similar ways.

Later, folks.  Peace,  love, understanding and green vegetables to you all.