Happy Groundhog Day

Listen up, Phil. So help me God if this is some sort of joke, because right now I’m starting at a snowbank that’s piled as precariously high as organic oranges at Whole Check—one snowflake away from an avalanche. So, if come March 20 that sun doesn’t shine in a way that’s both blinding and capable of igniting a fire, we’re gonna have a serious talk, Phil, and, fair warning, that talk will in a furry, dead heap.


Responding to numerous death threats, I didn't look very hard for my shadow.





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