We drove all through the snowy and rainy night and in the morning presented ourselves and our press release at its very seat of augury in downtown Punxsutawney -- the prognostication and "weather capital of the world" -- innermost sanctum of that "seer of seers," Punx'y Phil, presently residing in the "Groundhog Zoo" just behind the mentioned fair little city's municipal building.
It was now February 1, Groundhog "Eve". Phil was evidently already intensively resting up in anticipation of his prescribed late-night and early-morning activities for the coming day. He lay there in a brown, furry, featureless ball in a corner of his diorama, or cage, close up to the cool window, visibly breathing, but giving us no other oracular indication.
We took this as an implicit approval of and a positive pass upon our thesis. Fifty cents inserted into a meter activated the audio portion only of a prepared video presentation. We interpreted this to mean Phil thought our news release was really outta sight. (And the guy whose quarters it was said the snow condition that appeared then on the video screen mean it was going to snow.)
Now, I have to confess this was not only my first visit to Punxsutawney during a Groundhog celebration, it was also a rude awakening for me as to Phil the groundhog's true condition and disposition. I had always imagined he was a free-range groundhog who came up out of his hole to see or not see his shadow; hadn't guessed he was a captive; wouldn't have supposed the auguries could be counted upon if he weren't free; and can't help thinking a Free Willy-like Free Philly movement couldn't be far off down the road.
Indeed, the most striking thing that happened at this year's festival, besides Phil's not seeing or even casting any shadow (a relative rarity) is that he bit his handler (previously unheard of). This blatant omen was ignored but would clearly indicate that he doesn't care to be handled, earnestly wants to range free and takes very much to heart the millennium celebration policy we proffered in the article "Jubilee" -- of, among other things, emptying all the jails in Barbaria. This only recorded positive demonstration of his would very much seem to lend his emphatic support to our thesis.
Also, we handed out almost 100 copies of our Groundhog Day Press Release to the people in Punxsutawney and were warmly greeted, even enthusiastically hailed at times by trains of seekers of copies, and by seekers of extra copies. We were guests, on the fourth-floor roof of the tallest building in town, at a sumptuous spread of hors d'oeuvres, we overate, we slept it off, we saw thousands of happy and friendly revelers moving about the town at all hours of the day and night, we attended the uproarious midnight countdown to Groundhog Day at Scotty's Donuts. (Incredibly Ralph slept through it, and I was out back taking a whiz at the moment of truth.) We met the reporter and the banker and the deejay and some of the organizers in tuxedos and tophats. The day was worth a million bucks to Punxsutawney, and to us.
(Nowhere was there any sense that an animal's rights were being violated. So why mention it? Perhaps they weren't violated. And Phil seems to be able to take care of himself. They say he's 111 this year.)
Anyway, the point is we still have over 900 numbered copies left of the limited edition and original artifact to give away or sell, all of them fully imbued with the authentic vibration of celebration and jubilee. For a limited time, we are offering them free for your SASE sent to Box A1 Taconic CT 06079. Limit one per SASE, and one SASE per person. Offer subject to end. Ask for your favorite 3-digit number and we may be able to oblige you with it. We would like to be selling them as well as limited re-editions of them before long. We think they will become a valuable collectors' item.
Stay tuned. We also expect to be doing something for "The 2000th Anniversary of Herod's Final Eclipse" on March 12-13, 1997, and certainly something else for All Fools' Day, April 1, and maybe some things in between, but who knows what?
And then look what comes up:
The thousand-day countdown to the standard millennium (the one reckoned by the authoritative but busted "Rome-Greenwich" Millennium Calendar, which takes as "Day Zero" January 1, A.D. 2000) will begin with "Day 1000" on April 6, 1997, proceed to "Day 999" next day, etc. The Inaugural of this Millennium Countdown is none other than the Sunday Sabbatical immediately following our All Fools Millennium Inaugural, and a day which is coincidentally in its own right the Inaugural of Daylight Savings Time. We imagine such an auspicious triple inaugural will get a bit of attention -- even, and especially, alongside the approach of the much heralded Hale-Bopp Comet, whose perigee is expected March 22 and perihelion April 1 -- the very same day as our own hottest, clearest, most propitious best guess!