South Philly Review

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Today is Groundhog Day. In Punxsutawney (and other places around the state that are easier to spell), folks anxiously await to see if the groundhog will see its shadow. Some genius figured out that if it is sunny, the groundhog will see its shadow predicting six more weeks of winter, so it behooves us to root for clouds today. This entire event has been promoted to embarrass Hurricane Schwartz (the groundhog has historically been more accurate). The much celebrated event also gives Groundhog Phil something else to do besides hyping the Pennsylvania Lottery, the proceeds of which go toward helping me ride free on SEPTA.

“Groundhog Day” also was the title of a popular 1993 movie starring Bill Murray. In it, Murray plays a man who lives through the same day over and over. As a Cubs fan, Murray was able to identify with premises of the film. For Cubs fans, every baseball season is much like the last since 1908, the last time the team won the World Series. I know the feeling, having covered a number of Andy Reid’s press conferences over the years.

The Republican Party ought to ditch the elephant in favor of the groundhog. An elephant is supposed to be an animal that always remembers. If any Republican Party members actually recall the miserable eight years under George W. Bush, I haven’t found them. The GOP formula for success to finance two wars was a temporary tax cut and an unfunded prescription drug plan. Forgotten is that the sainted Ronald Reagan raised taxes 12 times. The GOP formula for success in 2012 is to extend the same “temporary” tax cuts and keep the unfunded prescription plan. If temporary tax cuts keep getting extended, at what point do they become permanent? If you forget the past, you are not only doomed to repeat it, you have earned the groundhog as your mascot.

I don’t know about you, but every time I squirm through 60 plus minutes of another State of the Union speech, I keep thinking it’s Groundhog Day. Each year we go through the same elaborate ritual. Leaders of Congress preen as they strut through the aisle behind the president. All of them wave and blow kisses to their colleagues as if they hadn’t seen them five minutes ago. Congress members scurry like Justin Bieber fans to shake the president’s hand or get a nod in their direction. Once the president gets to the podium, he is flanked between the vice president and the speaker of the house. Both look as if they’d rather be waterboarded than sit through the speech. Finally, the riotous applause dies down. The president is announced, and then the applause begins all over again.

He opens by declaring that though we face serious challenges, the state of the union is good, whereby applause erupts again, although no one really believes it. Cameras flash to the smiling first lady, who is always flanked by the hero of the moment (the hero being one who might have landed his airliner in the Hudson River or who overcame the odds of not having a good health-care plan like the president and members of Congress).

The president proceeds to encourage the cooperation of the opposition party, all of whom are as still as mummies and are thinking, “Yeah, when hell freezes over.” He proceeds to offer a laundry list of proposals that will never see the light of day or are totally forgotten five minutes after the speech is over (think George W. Bush’s promise for a new mission to Mars). As the president launches into each new promise, one side of the aisle stands and applauds while the other side sits on its hands. Occasionally, some members get confused, mistakenly stand and are tugged to their seat by an annoyed colleague. Through it all, Supreme Court members, who don’t know why they are required to be there at all, squirm uncomfortably in their seats.

Finally the agony is over, the president makes his way out of the chambers, smiling and shaking hands all the way out the door as if he has just delivered the Gettysburg Address (which was about 50 minutes or so shorter). Congress members, meanwhile, are rushing for restrooms with full bladders.

Cameras switch to TV commentators who summarize in five minutes what it has just taken more than an hour to deliver. They tell us that the president likely will not be able to deliver on any of his promises. Cameras switch to the chamber floor where a reporter has cornered a member of the president’s party, who gushes over the speech’s greatness. and then switch to the other side of the aisle where another reporter has grabbed an opposition member in desperate need of a restroom complaining there was nothing new in the speech. The TV anchors introduce the opposition rebuttal speech delivered by someone not popular enough to run for president that explains why the country is a sinking ship, that the president doesn’t have a clue about what to do about it, and that most likely he is entering either the advanced stages of senility or is a dreadful person who also suffers from halitosis. No one is paying any attention. The TV audience who bailed out about halfway through the speech.

Shouldn’t the State of the Union speech be delivered on Groundhog Day?

Contact the South Philly Review at editor@southphillyreview.com.