Seriously, this tedious mothballed "tradition" is but a short-and-curly above the one where they pull the giant rat out of its cage in East Bumfuck, Pennsylvania (it is Pennsylvania, right?) and try to divine whether it sees its shadow or not. There is no practicality in exalting the troubled niches of snowed-in, homogenous micro-states in the service of "representative" democracy.
On the other hand, perhaps a few of our more impressionable folks bought into the Ike Turner treatment of the fair maiden Guinevere. Jesus. Gullible much, honey? Or has it never occurred that the best way to vote against the media is to turn it off and/or gang-fax them mercilessly. They'll fold like a cheap botoxed accordion, faster than Tweety can order three fingers of Bushmills (which sounds good right about now).