Every year on February 2nd, the giant ground sloth that lives out on the fells wakes from his winter slumber and lumbers out of his cave to check the weather. If he sees his shadow, that means… oh, i forget what that means. Someone here must know.
What’s his name, and what else do you know about it?
Big Bill Buxby. He likes cinderberries and if he takes one you offer, you’ll have good luck all spring and in the Oiling Festival.
We employees of the Scientific Instrument Manufacturing Company have always been great and loyal fans of Fellsway Fosdick, the Sloth of Renown, and his uncanny ability to predict financial markets. The beast’s expression upon seeing its shadow is all the wise witness needs to see to know where their money will be most profitably invested:
– A contemptuous sneer: The giant sloth is irritated by the smell of rich foods and expensive booze… enough partying with your profits! Time to invest in some commodities.
– A yawn: Purchase bonds and other non-volatile instruments for safe, steady returns… and rest up for upcoming market turbulence.
– A sour expression: An overpowering scent of body odor indicative of increased activity in the building trades and associated industries. Investment in companies that produce building materials would not be un-clever.
– A look of dépaysement strongly reminiscent of the warrior king in David’s painting of Leonidas at Thermopylae, but giving a greater impression of wistful contemplation rather than resignation and ennui: Sell precious metals.
Special attention should be paid if Fosdick
– Upchucks: Sick sloth = too much soot in the air = lots of train travel = desperate salespeople looking far afield for new business. A recession is nigh.
– Breaks wind: It means sloths have been sneaking out of their caves and snacking. Look for food shortages, higher prices and higher wage demands from local union bosses.
I should also point out that competing manufacturers seeking contracts with the city are advised to rub Fosdick dung on their written bids before submitting them to City Hall. For good luck.
brilliant!
Perfect
Now, we may not be thinking about the same creature as the Fells is full of all manner of flora and fauna of the sort that gets your academic-types all goosebumply. Had a bunch of high-brows from that Mist-a-tonic University out in the backfields the other day getting all worked into a lather over a couple of bandersnatches fighting over an acorn. Took me a good hour to convince them they wasn’t mating. Let me tell you, when bandersnatches mate there ain’t no mistaking it, and brother, believe me when I say, you don’t want to be watching no amourous bandersnatches. Those little effers don’t take kindly to voyeurs.
Anyway, I’m digressing; as I was saying, that there sloth you townies celebrate every February could be a legitimate member of the Xenarthran subspecies of placental mammals, as you suggest, but just to add a little controversy to your cozy civic myth, it also fits the description of my great Uncle Tupelo. Lazy bugger’s been missing nearly half a century. Don’t ask me what he does in that cave the other 364 days of the year, but I don’t recommend exploring it without a bandana soaked in some sort of sweet fragrance tied about your nose.