As I write this blog, I am dismayed over the prediction of Punxsutawney Phil, the famous groundhog who just doomed us to six more weeks of winter. Groundhog Day is the one holiday where we all collectively agree to let a fuzzy woodland creature determine our future. Not a meteorologist. Not a scientist with a Doppler radar and a PhD. No, we leave our fate in the hands (paws) of a groundhog named Phil who lives in Pennsylvania. And has zero skin in the game if he’s wrong.

Every February 2nd, we tune in to watch a group of grown men in top hats yank Phil out of his cozy underground bedroom like, “Good morning, sir, would you care to see your shadow while thousands of people judge you?” The rodent clearly did not consent to this responsibility. He was asleep five minutes ago. I’m not even sure I should be trusted with major life decisions before caffeine, and no one’s asking me to predict seasonal climate patterns.

And let’s talk about the logic. If Phil sees his shadow, we get six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, spring comes early. That’s it. No wiggle room. No explanation. No peer review. Just groundhog vibes. Honestly, this sounds less like science and more like the way I decide whether to leave the house: If it’s cold and I’m already annoyed, I’m staying in. And speaking of logical, which we clearly weren’t, shouldn’t the groundhog’s prediction be just the opposite? If Phil sees his shadow, doesn’t that mean the sun is shining and doing its best to oust winter? I say we turn that prediction around—to one that I clearly agree with.

Meanwhile, weather forecasters spend years studying atmospheric pressure, jet streams, and climate models, only to be overshadowed—literally—by a chubby rodent with good PR. Somewhere, a meteorologist is whispering, “I went to college for this,” while Phil gets a whole holiday in his honor.

And Phil is not even particularly accurate. Depending on which statistics you believe, his success rate hovers around 35%. But do we hold him accountable? No. We just keep inviting him back. Year after year. Imagine being that bad at your job and still getting national television coverage and honorary titles. Must be nice. Only politicians fare better. But I wonder whether, if we slipped Phil fifty bucks (again, the politician analogy comes to mind), he could be persuaded to change his prediction to an early spring.

The best part, though, is how seriously we pretend to take it. News anchors nod solemnly. Crowds cheer or groan. Social media erupts with hot takes like, “Phil better not see his shadow or I’m suing.” Over what? February? Sorry, entitled one, but winter has already made it clear it does what it wants.

Groundhog Day exists in that magical space between tradition and complete nonsense, and maybe that’s why we love it. It’s harmless. It’s weird. And it reminds us that in a world of constant updates, breaking news, and things we actually should worry about, sometimes it’s okay to let a groundhog have the microphone.

I saw several Facebook posts after February 2nd that indicated people are less than thrilled about Phil’s latest prediction of six more weeks of winter. One post showed a picture of Punxsutawney Phil’s ex-wife, Phyllis, who now lives in Florida, and said that Phil is a compulsive liar. Another unenthusiastic fan said, “This coward just hides from his shadow and curses me with six more weeks of winter.” One cartoon showed Phil at an airport with massive amounts of luggage sneaking off to Cancun, while still another showed Phil in handcuffs. According to the Groundhog Club’s archives, Phil has seen his shadow 109 times, or 84% of the 130 times he has predicted the weather. To me, anyone who predicts six more weeks of winter 84% of the time SHOULD be in handcuffs.

After all, if we’re going to be disappointed by the weather anyway, it might as well be Phil’s fault.