Ladies, gentlemen, and those still scraping ice off their cars… it is with great reluctance, and absolutely no surprise, that I must announce that Punxsutawney Phil has betrayed us once again.

Yes. On this sacred Groundhog Day, the furry little meteorological menace emerged from his burrow, took one look around, and declared six more weeks of winter. Six. More. Weeks. As if we haven’t suffered enough.

For those unfamiliar with the ancient lore: Groundhog Day began in the 1800s when people, apparently bored and cold, decided to entrust seasonal forecasting to a rodent. A rodent. Not a druid. Not a wise elder. Not even a slightly drunk farmer with a cloud‑watching hobby. No! a bloody groundhog.

And ever since, this whiskered weather‑wizard has held the Northern Hemisphere hostage with his shadow‑based tyranny.

Well, not this year.

I, do hereby declare WAR on all groundhogs. Phil, his cousins, his agents, his furry little intelligence network, all of them. If winter must continue, then so must the resistance.

• Let it be known: We will not go quietly into another frostbitten morning.
• We will not accept another icy windscreen without complaint.
• We will not bow to the whims of a glorified woodland potato.

Rise up, friends.
Sharpen your snow shovels.
Prepare your thermal socks.

The Great Groundhog Rebellion of 2026 has begun.

Down with Phil. Up with spring.