Valentine

Oh, Saint Valentine, how you grace us with your presence today. I find that surprising, since there is even speculation over whether or not you even existed-but I digress. I find that your death by stoning was the most romantic act since Adam defrocked Eve behind that apple tree. Of course, your holiday might have been created to supersede the Pagan holiday of Lupercalia, or your legends might have even been fabricated by Geoffrey Chaucer, but again, I digress.

Saint Valentine, your gracefulness has been an anathema to men everywhere. Now, on one particular, arbitrary day, we are forced to spend valuable time and money on our girlfriends. We could have used that money and time to do other more important things, such as...uh...reading?

Damn you, Saint Valentine, for forcing men to recognize for one day (aside from their birthdays, anniversaries, the occasional 4th of July, and Hanukkah) that women are important in our lives. Damn you.

This one's for you, Saint Valentine. You gave Barry White a job; you should listen to him too.



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