Today is Groundhog Day, an annual US holiday on which a rodent is said to predict the length of the remaining winter. What’s more, next week marks the 25th anniversary of Groundhog Day, a light romantic comedy in which Bill Murray becomes an immortal godhead doomed to live the same day over and over again for what might be millions of years.
In short, we are right in the middle of all things groundhoggery, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Not only has the film become one of the all-time greats in the ensuing quarter-century, widely held to be as funny and touching as it is conceptually ingenious, but it has also started to take on an uncanny edge. I can’t be the only one to have noticed elements of Groundhog Day slipping into our day-to-day lives, can I?
Brexit
If we weren’t all trapped in a nightmare of endless repetition, then surely we would have figured out Brexit by now. We would have had a national discussion, reached some sort of consensus, and formed a blueprint for the best way to move forward. But no. Both sides of the debate are just as entrenched as they were on the day of the referendum, nobody has budged an inch, and we’re all still flailing around with our bums hanging out. Is this because we’re incapable of learning and would rather destroy ourselves than compromise? No. It’s because this is Groundhog Day, dummy.
Donald Trump
Remember that bit in Groundhog Day when Bill Murray killed himself in an array of violent flourishes, and none of it mattered because he was always still alive the following day? Isn’t that what life under Donald Trump is like? It doesn’t matter how spectacularly he self-destructs – how many outbursts and botches and Twitterstorms he blunders into – because he’ll still be America’s president the following day. You know why? It’s because this is Groundhog Day, and we should blame that rabbit thing that saw its own shadow once or whatever.
I haven’t looked at Twitter today but I already know what’s going on. People are screaming at rail operators. A company got caught selling a T-shirt that is objectively offensive. Someone leftwing said something that wasn’t deemed leftwing enough and now everyone is calling them a Tory. Endless, endless gifs from Friends. People not sharing my articles as much as I think they should. Every day on Twitter is identical to the last, and it makes sense that I should blame Groundhog Day for this.
My own life
Today I woke up, had a cup of tea and drank it while my toddler repeatedly watched a Portuguese nursery rhyme he found on YouTube. I changed a nappy. I cleared up dropped food. I wrote something insubstantial for the internet in a shed at the bottom of my garden, and not enough people shared it on Twitter. Later I’ll eat a microwaved pouch of soup and wish I was asleep. That’s what I did yesterday, too, and what I’ll do tomorrow. Because it is Groundhog Day, you see. I don’t know how I can make this any clearer.
People are always going on about Groundhog Day all the time
Admittedly you could argue that people are going on about it because it’s Groundhog Day, and also because next week marks the 25th anniversary of Groundhog Day’s theatrical release. But to that I say no, it’s because we’re all trapped in Groundhog Day and this whole thing won’t let up until we’ve spent thousands of years obsessing over Andie MacDowell and she eventually caves and lets us sleep with her.
