After the hullabaloo of Groundhog Day came to a close, Punxsutawney Phil—a forgotten icon in the off-season—was left alone with ample time to reflect on many years of pent-up frustration. The following grievances were found scratched into a piece of bark one morning after Punxsutawney Phil refused to exit his den to feed.

1. My full name is Philip, a royal name. I believe I’m distantly related to Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, because I can’t drive a car either. The all-too-familiar “Phil” is quite disrespectful.

2. All I wanted was a life of purpose; a life of burrowing, burrowing, and changing direction to begin burrowing anew. I was thrust into stardom against my will, and fame is tedious and futile.

3. The life-extending elixir I'm fed each year at the Groundhog Picnic has a terrible side effect (beyond the outcome of extending my personal hell for another three years). One—and only one—of my butt cheeks balloons to the size of melon for days.

4. I'm tasked with making a prediction I've proven myself to be consistently incapable of handling… but who can make any decision fresh off a nap anyway?

5. I haven’t seen a single penny from the movie Groundhog Day, nor did I receive a vanity credit.

6. The way I'm held when I'm hoisted in the air sort of digs into my ribs. I'd be interested in exploring some other hoisting techniques.

7. Can we not with the goddamn flash photography?

8. The stress of my position has made me overindulge on nuts, and I've lost my strapping figure as a result. I'm not revered for my body anymore, just my statistically inaccurate brain.

9. While the men of the “Inner Circle” are dressed to the nines in top hats and bowties, the guest of honor—moi—is forced to attend underdressed. Not even a measly cummerbund to spare me from such a faux pas.

10. I've made constant entreaties for some orthodontia to fix my buck teeth, but I guess the world's most famous whistle pig is asking for too much.

11. So… about the whole mating thing. Are arrangements being made for that or… ???