When it comes to Groundhog Day, yesterday’s XKCD nailed it.¹ It really is a bizarre holiday, and it’s one I have previously derided:

The problem, as I see it, is that there’s simply nothing there. They pull out poor Punxsutawney Phil, and then…a person announces whether the rodent saw his shadow or not. The groundhog doesn’t actually react in any visible way. The whole thing isn’t even as goofy as “Is the groundhog awake or not?”. No, the weather-predicting woodchuck is utterly unnecessary to the proceedings. They could just flip a coin. Or skip the whole thing entirely.

That post goes on to detail how back in the 19th century, they killed and ate Punxsutawney Phil following his prediction. Even three years after learning that horrid bit of trivia, I’m still taken aback by it. And those Phils were not the only unfortunate prognosticators.

Yesterday, I learned about Nantucket’s decades-old tradition of Quentin the quahog. Quentin is a random clam that gets cracked open to make a weather prediction.² The forecast is determined by which side of the shell the water spurts out from, which is quite stupid, yet still better than Punxsutawney Phil “seeing” his shadow (or not). Once cracked, however, the clam may as well be eaten, and so it is. I think.

Nantucket’s Quentin the Quahog squirted to the right Monday morning, predicting an early spring is on the way[.]

…

Quentin was opened this morning at the town’s Brant Point Shellfish Hatchery by assistant biologist Griffin Harkins. He then paid the ultimate sacrifice and was consumed.

The writing is decidedly unclear, but I believe that Quentin was the one consumed, rather than assistant biologist Harkins. It would probably be bigger news if they ate a scientist.

Speaking of comics about Groundhog Day, Snoopy gave us a far better idea for a holiday way back in 1981.³ Perhaps next year, we can celebrate that instead.

Footnotes:

1. The XKCD strip in question is archived here. ↩︎

2. “We kind of try to choose one that looks like it’s going to be able to predict the future” said Nantucket biologist Joseph Minella. ↩︎

3. The Peanuts strip in question is archived here. ↩︎

I first became aware of the new movie from James L. Brooks when I saw this ad online:

The quote at the top caught my eye, and for some time I was quite confused. Eventually, I worked it out. Apparently Emma Mackey is a real person, and she has the title role of the movie “Ella McCay”. Or possibly Ella Mackey is the star of “Emma McCay”? Then again, maybe Emma McCay is helming “Ella Mackey”. We also can’t rule out that Ella McCay is starring in “Emma Mackey”.

Whatever the case may be, the movie is apparently not very good. At least it’s providing folks with amusement in the form of recreating Emma/Ella’s strange pose from the poster.

The Boston Police Department recently shared some holiday and package delivery safety tips, including the wise suggestion that you be home when a delivery arrives. Clever! Fairly obvious recommendations aside, what really caught my eye was this accompanying image:

This picture seemed to be showing a package thief dressed as the Grinch. Prominently featured on the Grinch’s sleeve, however, is a BPD patch. Why?! Why on earth did they make the Grinch a Boston Police Department employee, while also having it carry out crimes?

I thought perhaps they had simply Photoshopped the patch onto a stock image, but no. This is actually a still from an entire video.¹. In it, the Grinch has a patch on both sleeves, and there’s just no way to make that make sense.

They took the time to attach TWO patches to this Grinch suit. While that was being done, surely someone could have stopped to say “Wait, why are we making the Grinch a cop?”.

Footnotes:

1. The full video is archived here, and I cannot stress enough that you should not watch it. ↩︎

Recently, I found myself desiring a new way to relieve a bit of stress. I wound up purchasing a kit from PaintGem, whose FAQ describes their product thusly:

Gem painting is a new type of craft where stunning artworks are created with colorful tiny gems. ​​​​The process of picking up the gems and placing them onto the canvas is easy, relaxing and is perfect for stress relief!

It’s essentially paint-by-numbers, but with tiny plastic beads. When I phrase it that way, I realize it’s probably murder on the environment in miniature, and I’m sorry about that. I purchased a kit that included replicas of masterpieces from Van Gogh, Klimt, Da Vinci, and more. As I was checking out, this note on their site caught my eye:

I define the word “creative” about the same way Merriam-Webster does: “having the quality of something created rather than imitated : IMAGINATIVE”. Recreating famous artworks via bedazzling by numbers is imitative at two distinct levels, and seems the antithesis of imaginative. I did not expect to express my creativity, but that was fine, because I have a mildly popular humor blog for that.

When my kit came, I quickly got started on what seemed the simplest piece, a tiny reproduction of Mondrian’s “Composition” paintings. The piece’s large rectangles and plain swaths of colors were easy, and it was as relaxing as I’d hoped. The meditative nature of the activity appealed to me, giving me a chance to slow down and focus on something right in front of me.

In the background, however, my brain was apparently still churning on that word “creativity”. When I had nearly completed the piece, I stopped. A terrible, terrible, terribly funny idea had struck me, but I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to go through with it. I paused my work and vacillated for a full day. Ultimately, however, I worked up the courage to press forward.

I’m glad I did, because my finished piece is already sparking tremendous buzz. Critics have said “[I]t might make people uncomfortable”, “This is the WORST!”, and “I’m impressed AND I hate it”. One person asked “How can you live with yourself?!?”.

Without further ado, allow me to present my completely original work entitled “A Fly in the Ointment”:

Choke on my originality, Mondrian, as well as every person whose eye twitches when they see this. I’m not sorry. Great artists never apologize, maybe.

OK, I’m a little sorry.

At some point in the late ’90s or early 2000s, I purloined this sign from a recently painted object:

I took it because it tickled me, and it hung it on various walls before I eventually did what I often do to reduce clutter: Take a picture and throw it out.

But having recently stumbled upon that photo, I realized I should share it with the world. Years later, this sign still tickles me, for three specific reasons.

Firstly, the girl in the flower dress is causing trouble, and that’s unusual. Too rarely do fictional girls get to misbehave, but in this cartoon world exists a little hell-raiser who has made things problematic for the boy pictured. If you’re wondering if my life imitated this art, I assure you the real-world paint was dry by the time I removed the real-world warning. While I can appreciate a female antihero, I had no desire to emulate her.

Next, I enjoy the idea that there may be recursive signs. Though the cartoon “Fresh Paint” sign is not shown in its entirety, it does feature the same text and M•A•B logo. It may well match the real-world version completely, with these very same two children included on the sign the girl holds behind her back, and thus on the sign on that sign, and so on to infinity. In my heart, I believe there are an endless number of elfin children engaged in this face-off.

Finally, while this image at first appears saccharine, closer inspection may have you thinking otherwise. I believe we are actually gazing upon the prelude to a grisly scene. The bat in the boy’s hand reeks of menace. Look at the girl’s face, and recognize her growing fear. Does the redness of the paint not feel like an omen? I do not wish to see what happens next. There seems little chance these two grow up to be high school sweethearts, eventually married for decades. One of them may not grow up at all.

This simple sign, created for a utilitarian purpose, carries so much dramatic weight. I extend my kudos to the artist of M•A•B Paints sign #175-0435, whoever they may be.

Update (November 18, 2025): Shortly after posting this, I was discussing the odd phrase “Fresh Paint” (rather than “Wet Paint”). Upon searching the web, I was shocked to discover my own past self. Clearly, this work of art has embedded itself deeply into my brain.

Though I’m sorry for the repetition, I am amused to find that my current and past selves agree with one another so well. I’m also glad that I feel my newer effort is the superior one. Perhaps we can think of this like Hitchcock remaking “The Man Who Knew Too Much”.