There's a trend on the internet of things lately where it seems like people are taming raccoons for what can't be any other reason than internet stardom. Cute videos of their cute raccoons doing the cute things cute raccoons do. I love the raccoons. I hate the people.
I want to see the videos of the sort of tamed, mostly feral, animals laying waste to these twat's kitchens. Trash and sofa cushions tossed asunder. Crying children with scratched faces, confessions of their mistakes in bringing in an animal that has the IQ of a monkey into their homes, I want to see the carnage. I want these people to pay.
This may seem like an enormous amount of ill will for an internet stranger, but I feel like if we are all honest, internet strangers don't get enough of what they deserve. As such, punishing the fly by night Steve Irwins of the world seems like the very least we can do.
Them and the intersection box blockers. Don't get me started.
But I have started. And today it's raccoon owners who will get my ire.
Now a fox. I'd approve of this ownership. Cute as button, them, and probably so well mannered. Okay, slippery slope and only a few chromosomes off from a rabid coon. We will draw a line in the sand with "no animals that have to be tamed besides our own kids and animals deemed safe as pets."
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Today is my 53rd Groundhog Day. Nobody celebrates these things, but really Groundhog Day is just like a birthday if you spin it right. AND it's a day we can all celebrate together. Treat yourself today. Give yourself the gift of a rodent's weather forecast, it's got a 50% chance of being right. This is the same percentage chance that a person with a phd in meteorology has.
To be fair though, the guys in the top hats are the ones deciding. We know the Punxsutawney Weather Cabal is controlled by the men in top hats. No rodents know shit about fuck. Of this I'm 100% sure.
In the years 1993-94 my friend Jennifer Granda (now Lanier) and I talked ad nauseam about throwing a Groundhog's Day Party. How it would be the grandest party of them all. Honestly, at that point in our lives we didn't need a Rodent Weather Predicting Day for an excuse to drink too much, we just needed a day ending in "day", but something about the Groundhog Day celebrations to be just seemed more special. More sparkly.
I don't recall any special decorations, no top hots or rodent fodder. No. Just a good day celebrating bad weather predictions. It just felt right.
Thirty to thirty-one years later and no parties have been thrown. No Phil's celebrated. Nay, February 2nd, 2024 looks to pass me by again without a top hat or trained rat.
I'd say this saddens me, but really it doesn't. I always think of this party on Groundhog Day, never before. The planning therefore, never starts, the invitations, never sent. The rodent forecast, already over. If you're thinking I should start today for next year, please know that I won’t.
Phil saw no shadow today and so we will get an early SPRING! Or maybe this is just Global Warming and spring's going to be coming early forever and ever and ever.
With or without the party.
#hugsandhi5s
"No rodents know shit about fuck." Truer words . . .
Hahaha…Foxes are actually quite rank, I understand (except Fantastic Mr. Fox)