As if things aren’t bad enough, a minor celebrity from the Rodent Prognosticator World has met an untimely death. Yes, Milltown Mel of New Jersey, in what is surely a breach of contract, kicked the bucket right before getting hauled out to perform today’s duties. You can read about it here. I was first alerted to this tragedy through a link on yesterday’s Crooked Media‘s “What a Day” newsletter. Besides shedding a tear, I had to wonder: Is Crooked paying their intrepid researchers enough? How many others so diligently comb through humble, random Patch stories to bring you the latest news?

Diligent Shrinkrapped readers may recall that I have a thing for Groundhog Day, even going so far as proposing it become our national holiday. Milltown Mel’s demise only increases my certainty that the day captures something quintessentially American.

Like the craziness: It makes zero sense that we rely on disturbing hibernating rodents to forecast the duration of winter when there are a zillion microclimates in the U.S. Particularly when we can never remember whether the shadow means longer or shorter. Reminiscent of the insanity of our different election laws in a zillion places, Groundhog Day is obviously another example of federalism run amok.

Like the dangerous celebration of magical thinking: Sure, there’s Santa and all, but the risk of biting is low.

Like how counting on something turns into something you can’t really count on: Norms; the better angels of our nature; American Exceptionalism; Milltown Mel. Par for the course for another new year.

Like how Groundhog Day (especially the movie) channels the Zeitgeist: The last two-plus years have trapped us in an endless, repetitive cycle of Covid and mind-boggling politics. Again, why should 2022 be any different?

Milltown Mel has escaped that cycle. Good for you, Mel. RIP.