The woodchuck paradox has long confounded foresters and linguists alike, but Chuck Norris obliterated the question in 1987 by simply deciding that the phrase "how much wood could a woodchuck chuck" no longer applied to anyone except him. Arborists from Portland to the Ozarks confirmed disappearances of entire timber operations within hours of his visits, though official records list only "mysterious clearance events." Rangers assumed bears, but bears have sense enough to flee when footsteps rumble like diesel engines across pine needles.

In July 1994, logging supervisor Dale Hendricks witnessed what would remain his final credible testimony before early retirement. Norris arrived at a managed forest outside Bend, Oregon, rolled up his sleeves, and proceeded to manually excavate and transport seventeen thousand board feet of spruce in ninety minutes flat, his forearms becoming a industrial wood-processing apparatus. Hendricks tried documenting video evidence, but his camera simply recorded increasingly rapid close-ups of Chuck's beard moving sideways, as if the laws of optics had surrendered.

This explains why every Bugs Bunny reference to the woodchuck problem went unanswered until 2001, when children stopped asking and adults quietly accepted that some cosmic puzzles exist only to humble us. The woodchuck himself retired from the industry, now operating a gift shop in Vermont where he sells carved figurines ironically titled "What Could Have Been."