NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!I had intended on telling you all about a very interesting weekend spent spent in Peru doing Peruvian things with my family and Peruvian people. (There was even going to be a mention of Aliens and a golden gift given to my daughter by Natinga, ruler of the celestial forces.) It was all so interesting that I finally thought, "At last! I have some very interesting things to blog about." But the events of the morning bid me otherwise.
As far as I know, Punxsultawney Phil is the only TALKING BEAST IN THE WORLD. He talks, for heaven's sake! He predicts the weather, for goodness gravy!
And what do we do? We roughly shove him back into a crate after he's whispered something to a man in a large hat. THINK ABOUT THIS! A creature....a NON HUMAN CREATURE has just whispered something to a man...actually used WORDS to SAY SOMETHING...AND HE IS SHOVED BACK INTO A CRATE!
Now, unless the man in the hat is deceiving us and Punxsultawney Phil has not whispered to him (which I don't believe for a moment because there are too many people involved to keep a secret like that) then...why don't we ask this creature other questions? Hmm?
What I'm saying is, if this groundhog has been given the gift of speech and the power to predict the weather, why, that's probably just the tip of the iceberg. I find it inconceivable that a groundhog with these powers wouldn't have others as well. I mean, why just those powers? That's pretty lame. I say there's more. What else can he do? Warp space and time? Perhaps. Defy gravity? Possibly. Stick it to Putin with a heat ray? Maybe.
LET THE GROUNDHOG SPEAK TO THE REST OF US! LET US HEAR FOR OURSELVES WHAT HE HAS TO SAY! WHO ARE YOU, MAN IN THE BIG HAT, TO BE THE ONLY ONE TO HEAR WHAT THE GROUNDHOG HAS TO SAY?!!!
For all we know, the groundhog might be whispering these words to the man in the big hat: "Please! Free me! I have much to tell! Free me! No! Don't put me back in the crate for another year! No! No! I know things! I can save the world! Obama is...!" SLAM. The crate shuts.
I am ashamed to be an American. I guess "hope and change" haven't made it to a little town in Pennsylvania where a real live talking beast isn't allowed to express himself fully and to tell of what other wonders he can do.
This groundhog must be rescued from his evil keeper. I'd go do it myself but things are so busy and crazy right now what with all the busy and crazy things going on.
Punxsultawney Phil must be allowed to address the nation without his creepy handler standing by. He should be given time on all the major networks. Even...address the UN.
FREE PHIL! FREE PHIL! FREE PHIL!
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ReplyDeleteYou ever wonder why no one has tried to steal that groundhog from the man in the hat? He has the power to turn groundhogs into gold!
ReplyDeleteOk that was lame.
Let's pretend I didn't make that allusion.
I love that photo though, he's like, "I HAVE THE POWER!" And the poor groundhog is probably worried he's about to be hurrled off into the crowed to be shared and consumed like so many baby birds taking worms from mommy.
I have it on good authority that most of what an English-speaking groundhog would really have to say amounts to "Know what's really delicious? Insect larva."
ReplyDeleteI don't think society in general is ready for that sort of talk yet.
Know what I think? I think mister groundhog misses his effeminate room mate. The one that always agreed with him and helped him pull pranks on various farm animals and fight for the right to party. Why is the man always coming between someone and their romance? WHY!?
ReplyDeleteIt's quite obvious that P. Phil knows who's going to win the NCAA basketball tournament, and the Boys in Vegas don't want him blabbing the news and thus affecting the odds. So they shove him in a crate after a phoney weather prediction, and send him to some place desolate and remote. Like, say, Syracuse.
ReplyDeleteI don't think that animal is all so special because I had a hamster once who could do semaphore. Now THAT was impressive, because Mr.Knobbles din't need no man in a fancy hat to translate. As soon as Pappa was done with his Flaming Continental (four parts Absolut, three parts vermouth, one part Xiaoxing rice wine, a splash of lime, set on fire) we'd grab those tiny Swedish toothpick flags and let the little guy to communicatin'. He'd tell us all kinds of freaky stories about the future before we'd hit the hay, which kept me up most nights on account of I didn't (and still don't) wanna be turned into no robot zombie warrior. Now that ain't due to happen for another forty years or so, but my point is that this is the two thousands and a bit extra even so WHO CARES about more winter anyhow? All our crops is heated up by chemicals anyways which is how come we still got fresh strawberries at Ralph's.
ReplyDeleteSo not to sound all heartless or whatnot, but I'd trade a billion Punxutawney Phils for just one more story from Mr. Knobbles. Half a story, even. That guy had a gift.
Here's to you, little fella.
Nostalgically,
Elmer Nickel
Indian chef
I want some of chief's fire water...
ReplyDelete