Located within this fiberglass log is a fat rodent that I believe they breed to ooze some kind of pheromone to direct more people to it. For hours the arriving victims are hypnotized by one of the cult leaders, who carries around a giant clock and commands the audience to dance around and chant, “Hey Ben, what time is it?” and mock them by forcing them to repeat–which I am sure is only for the cult’s sick pleasure–“Hey Ben, how cold is it?”

Hours upon hours, as the temperature rises and falls somewhere between ten and ten below, the drunken males float through the waves of people and the occasional cloud of smoke rises above the crowd that I can only assume is to dull the overwhelming power of the pheromones.

Upon the time the claim to release the vermin, they distract the audience with bright lights, the Pennsylvania Polka, and a parade of more of the cult members. After they announce the each member of the “inner circle,” which I am positive is symbolic seeing as circles never end, they pull the groundhog out of the fiber glass log. The most disappointing part of the entire ordeal is that they don’t even sacrifice the bastard! The head of the “inner circle” talks to the animal and apparently, it talks back claiming to predict the seasons! Miserable from the overall experience, a train of zombie-people slithers through the town back to their beds, drained.

I’m sure there is a deeper conspiracy here but I myself am too drained to figure it out.

Lots of holidays are retarded. Groundhog Day is the worst.

I don’t just hate it because it’s superstitious. Plenty of holidays are superstitious and founded on baseless idiocy. Halloween, Christmas, Easter… But I don’t hate those as much as I hate Groundhog Day, because Groundhog Day is superstitious and boring. All the evil spirits of hell coming to the earth to haunt and torture humans—interesting and awesome. Big guy in red has an unsustainable business plan—interesting and unrealistically generous. Guy gets nailed to a cross and poked with a spear for being abnormally nice—gruesome, but interesting. Groundhog Day is none of those.

We’re talking about a day on which a gopher looks, or doesn’t look, at his fucking shadow. This spectacle draws a crowd of hundreds. That’s fucking LAME. I await National Watch Stalactites Form Day and Glacial Movement Week, those’d hold my attention better than this. And even the consequences are boring! Six more weeks of winter?! It’s not like, there will be nuclear war and cities will be reduced to ash and there will be six eons of nuclear winter, no! It’s not even like, Everyone Gets Free Postage Stamps day, which would be boring but useful, it’s just something fucking stupid. “If one boring thing happens, then something else boring will happen.”

Find six differences between the two panels! HINT: One is a pair of rodents and the other is interesting.

Wikipedia has a list of “Famous groundhogs”.

Famous.

GROUNDHOGS.

Just say it to yourself out loud and actually ponder its meaning: “Groundhog day”. A day for celebrating gophers. What legislatures had so little to do that they actually got this turd out of committee and actually voted to make it a holiday in two states?

The traditional Bavaria is Boring dance

Leave it to German immigrants to invent something like this. When you’re German, you’re opposed to concepts like “entertainment” and “fun”, and so to avoid such things you impose workaholism on yourself and your family. Or you declare war and occupy neighboring countries, either way, really. But if that’s your life, your evenings and mornings get dull, and you don’t know what to do with them when there’s no light to slaughter innocents by. That gets you to thinking, “It sure would be nice if I had an excuse to drink myself stupid.” And so, excuse or no, you drink yourself stupid.

Thus it came to pass that one morning in the 19th century, Hans von Lederhosen looked out his window and saw a groundhog digging up his pristine vegetable garden. “Hey,” he thought to himself, “I wonder if there’s a way I could use that fucker as an excuse to get drunk.” He took a sip of his lager and then blasted the groundhog with an elephant gun.

Tanzmetall would like to go on record and say that he is of German descent, and that many of his best friends are groundhogs.