Groundhog Poker has become a sacred tradition in the CAFC clerk community, deeply rooted in the union of our passion for complaining about the weather with our debauchery and commitment to trash talking each other.
This year, however, I think we can safely forego consulting rodents and just declare an early spring. I wore a light jacket this morning and was sweating by the time I got to work. I saw a sports bar advertising outdoor patio seating for the Superbowl. I think the cherry blossoms are expected to bud next week.
Since we clearly don’t need a weather forecast this year, let’s instead take a trip down memory lane and recall past Groundhog poker reports…
Groundhog poker 2011: “Greg Dolin emerges from a rank-smelling hole in search of his shadow. Spotting the vile silhouette, he cried a nasal ‘feck!’ and scurried back below signaling six more weeks of poker.”
Groundhog poker 2010: “A groggy Mike Tyler emerged this morning from his post-birthday hole of stale liquor and spent nicotine patches and saw his shadow. Six more weeks of poker.”
Although groundhog poker 2009 was not memorialized in an email, my recollection is that it was my debut poker, I shattered a wine glass at Erica Andersen’s apartment, Neal Hannan told me that I would never be invited to poker again, and I ran down a hole and cried for six more weeks of poker.
Looks like it’s about time we had an early spring! Some come on down to [——-] tonight at 7:30 pm and don your favorite springtime apparel. Bring wild flowers and Easter candy and tell Punxutawney to shove it. Please RSVP, as my powers of predicting quorum as not as good as a groundhog’s ability to predict six more weeks of winter.