Well, here we again, at that most blessed day in all of February, Groundhog Day, when about a jillion people make the pilgrimage to tiny Punxatawney, Pennsylvania to see if the eponymous groundhog of that fabled burg will see his shadow.  Of course, if he doesn’t, then it means that Spring is just around the corner, while if he does see it, it means that Bill Murray will be doomed to ten thousand years of immortal suffering while learning valuable lessons about life, love and not allowing rodents to drive.  At any rate, suffice it to say that Groundhog Day is one of our nation’s most hallowed and sacred of traditions, being as how it is the one holiday on the calendar that Hallmark hasn’t really managed to cash in on yet.  And verily, I would like nothing better than to leave you all secure in the belief that all is well in groundhog world, that you might go on with your wholesome and decent lives, battling zombies, solving wacky mysteries, and making fun of foreign countries that happen to have silly names.  Alas, as a blogger, it is my responsibility to stir up scandal, garner headlines, and by doing so do my part to kick the mainstream media in the face like Bruce Lee in the Face Kickalympics.  Therefore, it is my solemn and silly duty to inform you that I have it on the best of authority that Groundhog Day is rigged.

            Okay, now that the collective gasp of horror which surely just rose from all my readers has hopefully dissipated like the delicious smell of a double steak bacon waffleburger, I shall commence with the getting into of all the gory details.  You see, it happens to be the case that the night before Groundhog Day (or, Groundhog Eve, and it is called within the Catholic Church), the unscrupulous city fathers of Punxatawney issue a press release to the newspapers of the world in which they say what Phil, that most revered of ground-dwelling earth squirrels, has prognosticated for the year.  And what is worse, all these newspapers, these so-called bastions of liberty and incorruptibility gladly buy into this hideous and smelly web of groundhog-related lies and deceit.  Clearly, something must be done to stop his dreadful perversion of groundhog weather prediction.

            All this does however beg the question of why anyone would even go about thus pulling the proverbial wool over the eyes of America in such a way?  Who, indeed has anything to gain by lying in the stead of the inestimable groundhog?  Nobody, except of course for the Weather Channel.  You see, while more and more Americans have, in recent years, turned away from listening to old men talk about their knees, looking at the bands of wooly bears, and throwing spaghetti at the wall in favor of such things as Doppler radar and accuforecasts, a recent poll showed that nearly 3072% of Americans still find their most reliable source of weather forecasts to be an underground rat living in the Keystone State.  As a result, the soulless minions of the Weather Channel have doubtless tried to buy off said groundhog with all manner of blandishments and promises.  But nay, all their efforts have come to naught, and they have now resorted to a most duplicitous plan of action.  What they conspire to accomplish is nothing less than the complete destruction of Punxatawney Phil’s good name and reputation by putting out spurious and inaccurate forecasts in his name in the hope that the people will lose faith in him.

            This, my friends, is one outrage with which we must not put up.  Indeed, as a fellow member of the alternative media I feel a particular responsibility to making sure that the truth on this matter gets out and that assuming that a diplomatic solution cannot be reached, a rescue attempt will be the only recourse left to us.  I foresee a brilliant and unexpected night raid where, under cover of darkness, I and a crack team of ninjas will infiltrate the Weather Channel’s compound, gnaw through the electric fence, leap o’er the moat full of firebreathing pumas, kick a bunch of people in the face, and affect the daring and audacious liberation of our nation’s greatest weatherman.  From there, we will surely have to go underground, so to speak, moving from town to town, ever watchful of outsiders, while transmitting our own pirated signal to the world so that good men and women everywhere may still know whether or not it’s going to be partly cloudy or partly sunny tomorrow.  True, sacrifices will have to be made, but in the end, I have no doubt that justice will prevail and that the edifice of lies which the newspapers and the Weather Channel have built will crumble like an alabaster hippopotamus struck with a stinger missile.  Viva la Groundhog!