Punch a Groundhog Day

Buffalo Bert was wrong. Like malfeasance wrong. He should be disbarred or defrocked or whatever it is we do to the furrier of the meteorologists. He said six more weeks of winter, and today, nine weeks later, I’m looking at snow. Sticky, slopy snow. His dereliction of duty is so severe I want to punch him in that smug little nose.

Though I’m not sure it’s all his fault. This year’s ceremony was held at Flying Bison Brewery. They woke this creature, offered him some beer, and asked him to predict the weather. He’s a groundhog from Buffalo! What’s he going to do, NOT slug down a larger at nine in the morning and tell us what we want to hear?

He’s only 25 pounds. Next year, I hope Paula’s Donuts is the sponsor.

My yard, April 5, 2024.