I’m pleased to wish American Spectator readers a happy Groundhog Day. Of course I’m writing from my man cave in Tampa where we’ve never experienced six straight weeks of winter, and are unlikely ever to, no matter what Phil has to say.
We all know that if that furry prognosticator, Punxsutawney Phil, sees his shadow on the morning of February 2, when he emerges from his burrow, there will be six more weeks of winter. Not welcome news for people on the mainland. Even worse news for us all is that if Scranton Joe (aka President Clouseau) sees his shadow on any given morning when he emerges from the White House basement, where his handlers stash him overnight, there will be AT LEAST six more months of stupidity, incompetence, dishonesty, demagoguery, decline, and despair. I’ll take winter any time, thanks very much.
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