Spring is Here...

Annually, on February 2nd, the undeniable meteorologist of the animal kingdom, Punksatony Phil, emerges from his hole in the ground and forecasts the coming of spring. That’s right, to millions of Americans, the fact that whether a fucking groundhog sees his shadow or not actually determines their meteorological future and alters their lifestyle choices. Seriously, I’ve heard of people not going on vacation because Big Phil saw his shadow. Good job guys, way to up the learning curve.

By the way, that whole process doesn’t even make sense… So legend says, “If Punksatony Phil sees his shadow, he gets scared back underground, and we have two more weeks of winter.” Or something, I dunno, don’t quote me on that. But, seriously… If he saw his shadow, wouldn’t that mean the sun was out, and thus Spring is on its way? The whole process is flawed, but that isn’t why I write to you today. Nay, I write to inform you of the true weatherman of the order rodentia; the squirrel.

That’s right, fuck Punksatony Phil; that pudgy bastard... If you want to know spring’s around the corner, turn to your bushy tailed, arboreal allies. Why, just today, I walked out my front door and saw two squirrels absolutely humping to the max on the tree in my front yard, and that, my friends, is how I know spring is here. Squirrels know what’s up… They definitely plan ahead. These guys spend months hording acorns so they can make it through the winter, there’s NO WAY they’re going to blow their proverbial load--well, okay, maybe not so proverbial--and have a litter of offspring when it’s still winter out. I’m not sure exactly how long a squirrel pregnancy cycle lasts, but I guarantee that spring comes whenever that is from today.

Yeah, that’s right, fuck Groundhog’s Day, fuck Punksatony Phil, and most of all, fuck Bill Murray. It’s not about a hypoglycemic rat seeing his shadow, it’s about squirrels getting their freak on. Pass the word, and let’s put an end to this ridiculous holiday… Although, I always did think that it was an awesome excuse to drink. But, then again, what isn’t?


Is his thumb in that rat's ass? I think it is! That guy is waaaay too close to that rodent!

Pass da Valentine from de Left Hand Side.

Pass de Valentine from da Left Hand Side…

Like a diaper clad ninja, Cupid has once again snuck up on us and heralded in another Valentine’s Day. Not that ninjas generally herald in Valentine’s Days, or do any heralding at all really, I just meant that Valentine’s Day kind of came out of no where this year. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a girlfriend that’s reminded me every day since Christmas that, “Valentine’s Day is just around the corner!” Or maybe it’s just because this entire year is flying by in a weird haze of boozing and folding T-shirts. Either way, I feel like I should take a minute to talk to you all about Valentine’s Day and how utterly irritating it is. (As is the custom amongst bloggers.)

I hate Valentine’s Day for two separate, but equally annoying, reasons… Neither of which is what you assume I’m going to say. I could really care less about being single on the most romantic holiday of the year*. I also don’t care that Hallmark’s stock will go up eleven points based on tomorrow’s last minute shoppers alone. I DO, however, care about how annoying everyone else in America gets about these two facts.

Seriously, there is not a single Valentine’s Day that can come and go without some jackass telling me it’s a, “Hallmark Holiday,” and how they invented it just to sell greeting cards during the non-Christmas season. I mean, they don’t want you to know this, but Hallmark actually did invent a time machine, went back to the fourteenth century, and offered Geoffrey Chaucer a twelve thousand gold bullion endorsement deal to include the first ever Valentine’s Day reference in his pseudo-literate love poem, Parlement of Foules. Seriously, shut up… You don’t have to prove how fucking punk rock you are by quoting the same anti-corporate bullshit that we hear every year.

In fact, a Hallmark greeting-card might just be the only place that will ever publish that mediocre, coffeehouse, beat neck poetry that you carry around with you in that oh so indie black and white speckled notebook. So, you might not want to run them out of business with those neon-yellow, anti-corporation flyers that you ironically made at Kinko’s. They didn’t invent Valentine’s Day. End of story. They did, however, invent Leukemia in a dastardly ploy to bolster the sales of “Get Well Soon” cards, but that’s a different story all together.

Secondly, attention single girls and emo kids… Stop crying about being single on Valentine’s Day. You are not any more alone than you are every other day of the year. Sure, society flaunting its collective romantic success in your face might make that microwavable soup-for-one taste a little less sweet, but it’s not that big of a deal… Use the holiday to your advantage. Undoubtedly there will be other lonely people freaking out about being alone on Cupid’s birthday too, and I hear that there’s these places called bars that serve this stuff called alcohol. Go, drink, and take advantage.

Personally, I found a “Fuck Love” Valentine’s Day party… Which, although sounding inherently cheesey, is boasting $2 shots of Dewars and $1.50 PBR’s. So, hooray for lonely people marketing ploys! Anyone who wants to come get wasted, hit me up…

If not, be safe and remember, it’s not that big of a deal. Don’t contribute to Valentine’s Day’s epic battle with Christmas for holiday supremacy in the domain of suicide numbers.


* Arguably, Thanksgiving might be the most romantically skewed holiday, because, well… Let’s face it, fat guys and gravy equates to a venerable supernova of romance.