I’m Going Whole-Hog with Weather Gripes
Sam Venable
Department of Irony
My grumpy meter ratchets up a notch this time of year. Happens whenever I glance at the calendar and notice February is nigh. A nanosecond later, two questions invariably flash through my skull:
What the heck gives some rodent, hundreds of miles away, the ability to forecast weather anywhere in the country?
Why the heck does every news outlet from Alaska to Florida feel obligated to report this astonishing prophecy?
I speak, of course, about a certain February 2nd ritual in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.
You know the drill: Clad in a tuxedo and top hat, some politician or pillar of the community in Punxsu — third grumpy question: can anybody outside of that dang city write it correctly without continual spellcheck consultations? — taps on the door of a fake tree stump, reaches in and withdraws a groundhog named Phil, then holds it aloft with the same unbridled glee as the winning coach of the Super Bowl hoisting the Lombardi trophy.
If the sun happens to be shining at that moment, Phil sees his shadow (isn’t science amazing?!) This scares him (what a wimp), and he wishes to return to his burrow.
The verdict? Six more weeks of winter weather.
Conversely, if skies are cloudy, Phil doesn’t see his shadow and isn’t frightened. Barney Fife would be proud.
The verdict? An early spring is nigh.
Panxsu-whatever Phil isn’t the only “official” weather groundhog. Just the one with the best agent and promotions budget.
There are lesser-known celebrity groundhogs all over the map. Readers Digest recently identified nearly a dozen. One is even a fellow Pennsylvanian: Grover the Groundhog in Pine Grove, a town with the decency to pronounce and spell its name easily.
Speaking of snowmen, why limit “Frosty” to Christmas?
Don’t kids continue to build snowmen as long as there’s even a hint of snow on the ground?
Some others, in no particular order, are: Dunkirk Dave and Staten Island Chuck in New York, Buckeye Chuck and Thistle the Whistlepig in Ohio, General Beauregard Lee in Georgia, Chuckles IX in Connecticut, Jimmy the Groundhog in Wisconsin, Sir Walter Wally in North Carolina, Chattanooga Chuck in You Know Where, and Pierre C. Shadeaux in Louisiana.
Jimmy and Pierre are my favorites.
In 2015, Jimmy took a chunk out of the mayor’s ear when Hizzoner “listened closely” for the forecast. And Pierre isn’t even a groundhog. He’s a nutria from Cajun marshes.
Otherwise, bah! Forecast-schmorecast! Be gone!
No matter what any of these rodents predict, Sourpuss Sam says take this to the bank: Over the next six weeks, it will be hot, cold, warm, rainy, sunny, sleeting, humid, dreary, snowing, cloudy, muggy, hailing, balmy, frosty, windy and foggy. Sometime. Somewhere. In one form or another. And not necessarily in that order.
Sourpuss Sam has spoken. He now returns to the comfort of his den.
Sam Venable is an author, comedic entertainer, and humor columnist for the Knoxville (TN) News Sentinel. His latest book is “The Joke’s on YOU! (All I Did Was Clean Out My Files).” He may be reached at sam.venable@outlook.com.