Carl Jung once said, “It is a frightening thought that man also has a shadow side to him, consisting not just of little weaknesses and foibles, but of a positively demonic dynamism.” On this 136th Grahndhawg day, I wanna address the real shadow needs seein’.
It went dahn on February 3, 2021. I woke up in the den stinkin’ a sex an’ those bullshit ahtta state Rollin’ Rocks with six rabbits butt naked piled on top of me, feelin’ like a gumband was wrapped tight on my brain. It took me seven minutes to haul my ass outta ’at hole, fer chrissakes. When I finally reached the top, the frickin’ sun stung like an ass slapped at the wave pool with a wet tahl. I turned arahnd and yarfed up yesterday’s scrapple. When your whole life is burrowing, it’s hard to imagine hitting rock bottom. I says t’myself, Phil, ya gotta change.
I’m not one of those tawchy-feely soft hawgs. I ain’t Pierre C. Shadeaux dahn Lousiana splashin’ arahnd in the crik tryin’ to pretend he’s my family. But my mum knows Dr. Kowalski an’ says he’s real professional, a guy you can trust—kinda like television’s Attorney Edgar Snyder. I had to get him on the horn. First four months yappin’ with Dr. K I thought, This guy’s a jaggoff. Why’s he askin’ me if I ever seen my dad cry? Why’s he care so much ’at Tommy Levangie stole my chip chopped ham sammies an’ stuffed ’em in my Trapper Keeper? I says to Dr. K, “Woah bud, I’m here to look forward. Nobody wants a groundhog to look behind ’im, ya know?” But I gotta say, this headpeeper grew on me.
Dr. K helped me realize that I gotta take a look at my “shadow self”—it’s not the groundhawg thing, this is some Jungian shit. Everybody’s got a dark side, a little bit a’ jag inside them that’s makin’ em do stuff they don’t even realize they’re doin’. Me? Turns aht I been way overcompensating, makin’ a big effing deal of myself. Like I’s won those six rings myself. The all-you-can-eat banquets, the dueling pianna after-parties, demandin’ the corner table dahn Gimmicks so I can keep an eye on the statue of me aht front. I charged seventy-five bucks for cameos! You know how hard ’at app is withaht thumbs? Deep dahn I was terrified. Take away the guys with top hats, an’ I might as well be a rat.
Dr. K says I’s projecting big time. When I seen little Lonnie Antonelli aht back Laska’s Pizza Tahn readin’ a Farmer’s Almanac, I took it as a personal attack. When I fahnd aht ’at guy from Ghostbusters came in tahn to make a movie about MY DAY and he didn’t even CALL ME? Like I don’t know life in front ’a the camera? I lashed aht. I abused my power. I started seein’ my literal shadow ON PURPOSE just to fuck with people. HOWS YOU LIKE SIX MORE WEEKS OF WINTER, BILL!?! WHY DON’T YOU EAT MY SCAT.
I’m just tryna take it day by day.
Worst part? I fahnd the frikken love of my life and I lost it like a deluxe parkin’ spot when you forget to put aht a chair. I’s whistlin’ at my lady about whether she cleans up her pop or why she’s aht gettin’ loaded nachos with her girlfriends when really I just wanted to curl up on my La-Z-Boy with her an’ go all Lady an’ the Tramp on some Hawt Pockets. I left her faster than Jagr skated aht in ’01. I acted like a jabroni an’ it cost me a good lady. I’s pushin’ my grocery buggy through Gian’ Iggle’s, an’ when I walked past frozen foods, I CRIED.
It don’t matter whether I see my physical shadow again, I gotta stay on top my personal one. A wise guy once said, “It’s not a thing of how many carries, but were you effective when you did carry.” Nah, ’at’s not Jung, ’at’s my boy Franco Harris. But Dr. K agrees, and on acahnta him, I’m a better hawg than I was last year. I’m here poppin’ my head aht this hole inta the light payin’ attention to the shadow that’s important.
And hey, Diane, if yer watchin’, I’m just a hawg, standin’ in a pile a’ dirt, askin’ you ta’ come home. It’s our Sega now baby.