Don’t Drive Angry!

There seems to be a nasty trend with this little rodent. 

No, not Bill – Bill’s cool.  

I mean the furry fiend sitting in front of him behind the wheel.  This little dude is pissed.  And he has been driving angry for most of his career as the prognosticator of prognosticators.  I think maybe he needs some therapy, and someone should be looking into how he got a license to predict the weather in the first place!  I rather doubt he actually has a degree in meteorology.  Unless one was given to him as a “honorary weather dude”, which hardly seems right.

According to Phil has been angry for a long, long time:

“Of the 114 predictions on record so far, Punxsutawney Phil has predicted an early spring 14 times (12%). As to his accuracy, according to the StormFax Weather Almanac and records kept since 1887, Phil’s predictions have been correct just 39% of the time.”

So, not only does he seem to hate Spring – he’s also wrong a lot.  This begs the question:  Is Phil happy at his job?

Granted, this little furry dude is pampered for his whole life.  Phil lives in the Punxsutawney library with “his wife, Phyllis”, and is taken care of by his handlers, who are members of the “Inner Circle”.

And every summer, he gets a sip of a “magic elixir” which is purported to give him an extra 7 years of life.  This little dude’s been doing this for over a hundred years.  That’s a long time to hold 1 job.

And the retirement plan kinda sucks. 

Cause it doesn’t seem to exist.  Ever.

You know, looking back on the life of Phil, maybe he’s not so much angry, as he is simply tired.  I know I would be after doing the same job for that long. 

Maybe it’s time for a replacement?

How ’bout…….  Punxsutawney Pete, the Pussycat?

Ok, simmer down, and hear me out!

Cats already have 9 lives – so there wouldn’t be any need for a magic potion to keep him alive.  He’d be good for a looooong time.

Cats like – no scratch that – cats love to sleep.  They can hibernate for almost forever and not get bored. 

Cats often jump at shadows, so… there’s that.

And, instead of only speaking Groundhogese?  Cats speak a language that almost anyone can translate.

“Rrrow?”  – Did you hear me?  I’m talking to you!

“Meow.” – I’m hungry.

“Meeeoooow” – I need to go outside.

“Mrrroooowww” – Pet me.  Now.

“Rrrrrrrooooowwww — hissssssss!” – No.  Not only no, but  NO.

“Prrrrrrrrrrr” – Yeeeesssss.  You may worship me now.

I rest my case. 

Cut poor Phil a break, guys?  I’m sure that he’d love to be a retiree in some community down in Arizona or Florida, where he can rest and relax with Phyllis and his friends in the pinochle club.  After all these years, doesn’t he deserve a nice retirement package?

And I’m sure that there are a lot of other well-deserving critters out there that would jump at the chance to get their claws, paws and furry butts on the big stump!