Panic Catfish

While walking to get lunch one December afternoon, I saw Snowbird.

Snowbird was spreading cheer and goodwill downtown from the back of an antique fire truck, which was happily blaring its siren.

I stopped to take the above picture. The Snowbird waved to me. I waved back like a little kid, not caring that maybe I looked like an idiot. After all, I’m an important professional eating important lunches and otherwise busy doing important things. But, Snowbird.

Snowbird is beloved.

He/She lets you out of school. He/She means sledding and hot chocolate. He/She is friendly, with a peppy jingle. He/She has never sat on a wire and pooped on anyone’s car. Even my no-girls-allowed barber has a Snowbird bobblehead.

Snowbird rules.

So, I got back to my office, then I got this tweet:

This made me think critically about Snowbird.

What does Snowbird actually do? Here’s a good example of what Snowbird does (to the most innocent among us):

Snowbird causes panic.

Let’s be honest. We’re all friends. We panic at the mere mention of snow. And, frankly, panic is warranted. We can’t cope with the snow. We’re awful at it.

It’s about time we had a mascot to account for this.

Introducing The Panic Catfish, brilliantly rendered by Matt Huff @M_Huff217:


Only time will tell whether this will become “The Panic Catfish,” the “Panic Catfish,” or just the “Catfish.” Y’all will decide.

While the Snowbird will be doing its Snowbird thing: putting a positive spin on snow, the Catfish will be an honest representation of what we do: Panic.