Leah Bitsky ’12
Staff Writer

Overall, I’m a huge animal lover, being a vegetarian and all, but I really just want to brutally hurt the groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, both physically and mentally.

He just had to see his shadow once again. Six more weeks of heinous winter. Ok, that’s just obnoxious.

I just hate winter—yes, I know hate is a strong word, but that’s how much I detest this dreadful, cold, agonizing season.

I am already running low on my Aveeno hand lotion because my hands have been so cracked from the cold, plus the constant use of all that swine-flu-preventing Purell.

A longer winter is a huge pain in my posterior…literally.

A longer winter means more ice, which leads to more slipping and falling and landing on my butt, and then I have to ice my butt, which just makes me even colder.

But now I wonder if I should trust Punxsutawney Phil, and my fellow Connecticut groundhog Chuckles, who both saw their shadows, or should I trust Staten Island Chuck who did not see his shadow concluding that spring will come in the next two weeks.

So now I have to decide who I should believe…the groundhogs who saw their shadows, or the groundhog who didn’t.

Being a winter-hater, I would definitely want to believe in Chuck, but I have to think reasonably here.

I have to see which fat brown rodent is a more reliable source.

I first decide to rule out the famous Punxsutawney Phil, because he lives far away from me and I don’t really care about winter in Pennsylvania and I don’t really care for Pennsylvania either.

Sorry Phil, fame isn’t everything.

Now I am left with Chuck and Chuckles…two woodchucks that don’t chuck wood.

It is true that Chuckles lives in the state of Connecticut, but New York is very close so it’s very tough to say.

Now it’s time to get rational.

I like the name Chuckles. It rolls off the tongue, whereas Chuck is just boring and a predictable name for a woodchuck.

But then I hear this weird thing that Chuckles’ name isn’t really Chuckles. It’s actually Molly. I don’t know why the state of Connecticut can just decide to change the identity of a living, breathing, hairy animal. It’s dishonest and tacky.

Would you still trust your best friend who you’ve been calling Mark for the past nine years, and then discover his real name is Oswald? No. what kind of friend is that.

I believe in the same importance of honesty in identity with any mammal, fuzzy or not—it is quite acceptable, however, for reptiles and amphibians to lie about their names, of course.

Seeing as Chuckles is neither a reptile, nor an amphibian, he looses all his credibility as the arbiter of a long or short winter and so it is evident that Chuck is the one I choose.

Chuck clearly is the one groundhog that I, and anyone else, can trust, so get ready for spring boys and girls, because Phil is so wrong.