The Ground Hog-- a Gateway God
Ground Hog's Day is about as close as I get to a religious holiday. It is one day when I place my faith in something intangible and unproven; the belief that if some stinky rodent wakes up and comes out of its hole on a sunny day and looks down, it will magically control the progression of seasons.
GH Day was a high holiday in my home growing up. Just when the rest of the kids were bored silly with their Christmas toys, my dad would dress in a generic rodent suit and pretend to crawl into the house through the laundry shoot. He'd leave us toys in a nest of wood chips and eat some carrots we'd leave out. Sometimes we'd go out caroling, gaily singing songs to our neighbors about the day. That was our celebration of something that wasn't really true and was sufficient to satisfy our faith void.
Across this great land children will be taught the story and will be told to place their faith the ground hog. It is our society's way of using the schools to stealthly indoctinate the next generation into believing in what they are told rather than what is real, perpetrated by a cute, fuzzy, warm gateway god that will lead them down a path to believing in an omipotent angry invisible man and WMDs.
Just like any belief in a mysterious power, there is no proof that it works, no strong correlation, and nobody looking for it. The myth and faith in a rat predicting weather runs so deep that everyone knows of it and most believe it is accurate. Newscasts will feature the shadow sighting and talk of extended winter minutes before a meteorologist uses the lame tool of science to predict it. Then television viewers will get mad at the scientific method when it is incorrect, yet they won't hold the ground hog accountable. Just like religion!
Still, it seems safe and fun, so it is the one bit of faith and mysticism I can be comfortable with. Sure, it's no parting of the Red Sea or being born to a virgin, but then again, nobody has flown a plane into a skyscraper in the name of Punxsautawny Phil. Yet.
posted by Schmootzie @ 8:07 AM
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The Chihuahua Creed
I believe in one Dog, Sammy the Mighty, Maker of Turds in the grass, and of all things visible, but not invisible, except maybe what I can see with a scanning electron microscope.
And in one Flea, Tinker The Itcher, the Uber-Flea, borne and carried by Sammy the Mighty upon all carpets, sofas and silky blankies, Dog of Dog, Itch of Itch, Very Dog of Very Dog, begotten by a Bitch, and of one substance with the Flea by whom all itches were made; who for us men (and women), and for our annoyance, came and multipled and used square roots. And that we were infested by the Holy Flea and its multitudes, and were made Dog and Flea Bothered, and Dog was given a Flea bath, also for us under Poncho, the Vet. Sammy suffered and was deloused, and on the third day he was clean again, according to the directions on the Flea bath, and ascended onto his human Aunt’s bed, and sitteth on the right hand of Aunt Isabella. And he’ll probably get Fleas again with glory to judge both the bitten and the unbitten, whose kingdom shall have no end. Amen.
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The God of Blogging double posted the Chihuahua Creed. I deleted the second one.
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