Valentine’s Day Ruled Unlawful, Stupid by Male Supreme Court Justices

Listen up, ladies and/or whoever plays the woman in the same-sex relationships of any of my gay readers. I’ve got a news bulletin for you: We men are tired of your manipulation and we’ve decided we’re not going to take part in this Valentine’s Day massacre anymore.

[That is, unless you threaten to withhold the sex. Should you choose to withhold the sex as a means of retribution, you’ll need to specifically identify this particular three-week sex drought as punishment so it doesn’t blend right in with the mélange of naturally occurring multi-week sex droughts to which we’ve grown accustomed since we got married.]

Anyway, back to your bullshit manipulation and the realization that it has, for some time, been legitimized with its own national holiday. For whatever reason, we don’t call it Bullshit Manipulation Day, we call it Valentine’s, or St. Valentine’s Day if you’re a bit of a dandy fop. Today, February 14th, we honor pouting as an art form. We honor guilt and extortion as the most natural extension of a loving, trusting relationship. Yes, Valentine’s Day, in many ways, has become the logical byproduct of millions of women whining in unison. I say “millions of women” rather than “billions” because I assume oppressed women throughout much of the world are busy trying to convince their male overlords they deserve the right to vote and speak without being spoken to, and thus, by the Reflexive Property of The Man Keeping You Down, freely observing the mother of all women appreciation holidays is much further down the list. Probably somewhere between “Please don’t beat me when I’m defiant” and “Can’t I wear something besides black?”

Anyway, men, I think it’s time we all agree Valentine’s Day is a completely asinine holiday and just stop observing it. By and large this country is run by men (and aliens), and it amazes me these same men don’t just take it off the calendar one year to see if anyone but women notices. Here’s a newsflash: men wouldn’t. We’d just notice at the end of the year that we had an extra $150 leftover for some reason. The newspaper on the February 15 would make no mention of the holiday being missed and the only related stories would be the one about 8,000 Zales Jewelers closing nationwide tucked back on A-14. I see that as a good thing. It opens up another spot in the mid-mall area to bring back Orange Julius.

Hell, I’m not averse to taking lots of stupid holidays off the calendar. Let’s put Arbor Day, Secretary’s Day and Grandparents Day on the chopping block. I say for a day to be considered a legitimate holiday, one of three requirements must be met: 1) The savior of the world must have been born, died or arose from the dead, 2) you get the day off work in observance of whatever the day is, or 3) adults use the day as an excuse to get together to binge drink on a work night. So, Christmas, Good Friday, Easter -- you guys are okay. Labor Day, Memorial Day, 4th of July, and New Year’s -- you’re all free to go. Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day -- you guys just made the cut. Paging St. Valentine, Martin Luther King, Columbus, some guy named Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, mothers, fathers and any veterans who don’t feel they’ve sufficiently been recognized for their sacrifice already on Memorial Day. These eight holidays please report to my office immediately. I have some bad news.

I think my problem with Valentine’s Day is that it’s just so…I don’t know…made up. I challenge anyone to show me another holiday more manufactured than Valentine’s Day. Hallmark should secure the copyright to Valentine’s Day so that, whenever anyone mentions it, they’re in violation of the copyright if they don’t say “Happy Valentine’s Day. Brought to you by Hallmark, manufacturing and homogenizing the socially accepted ideal of love for more than 50 years.” I’ll grant you that if Kwanzaa ever really catches on, it should wrestle Valentine’s Day in a Loser-Leaves-Town match for the title of Absolute Queerest Holiday.

I mean, let’s start to define what it is by first identifying what it’s not. Valentine’s Day is not is a holiday dedicated to the idea of celebrating love. This is troubling for a number of reasons I admit, but J-Lo and her beautiful ghetto ass had it right: My love don’t cost a thing. (“Think I wanna smack your ass, I do. Think I wanna touch your jugs, I will…” Are those the words?). Love shouldn’t cost a thing. Valentine’s Day has become a holiday propped up and perpetuated by the retail establishment. Somewhere along the line, the amount of money men spend on women on this day took on a proportional relationship to how much men love women for the whole year. If Valentine’s Day was all about love and not about just getting shit, we’d still give each other little perforated cards that hold a sucker just like in grade school instead of diamond tennis bracelets and $85-teddy bears and flowers arrangements equal to a luxury car payment. I say the awful truth is that Valentine’s Day is a nationally observed holiday dedicated to state-sanctioned prostitution.

Look, split hairs if you want, but what’s the real difference between paying $200 to a hooker for a half and half and giving your wife $200 worth of flowers and some lingerie? I say the difference is semantics, my friend. But, seriously, the only real differences are that you love your wife and sometimes the hooker lets you punch her in the ass for an extra $20 if that’s what floats your boat.

So, if the real difference is love (and some good-natured ass-punching), then how on earth did we get to the point where there’s an expectation of high-end gift giving to substantiate our love for you on Valentine’s Day, ladies, when a nice kiss and a warm hug and a simple “I love you” seems to do just fine every other day of the year…except your birthday…and Christmas…and Mother’s Day…and our anniversary? I can see how this crazy gift-giving trend works on the anniversary. It makes sense. It’s our annual payoff to our wives and significant others for staying with us. But, Valentine’s Day is like Anniversary II for any of us not smart enough to get married on Valentine’s Day in the first place.

I say it’s gotta stop somewhere, ladies. We’re paying mortgages and car payments and private school tuition and hush-money to some girl named Linda we knocked up at an office party and there’s just no money left over for lavishing gifts on you on yet another fictitious holiday. So, the Valentine’s Day king’s ransom you’ve come to expect has to end.
Can’t we all go back to when we were kids when everyone’s mom made sure everyone in the class got a valentine, even the kid that was a little old to still be peeing his pants? We’ll exchange little 10-cent cards and cupcakes and little Hershey’s chocolates, not that Russell Stover’s bullshit in the sampler box. We’ll make hearts out of posterboard with non-toxic paste and red sparkles and elbow macaroni and then we’ll all meet up to exchange them and that’ll be the new tradition on Valentine’s Day. Trust me, ladies. It’ll be great. It’ll be just like when we you were nine and all you wanted was to get a valentine from Randy, the tough kid (pre-mustache, new Dokken shirt for every day of the week, don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about) in your homeroom. The only problem is, that kid’s serving five to 10 for a little B&E, so you’re going to have to settle for some cards and candy from one of us law-abiding types. If you want, you can call me “Randy” when we’re doing it later that night, but I reserve the right to punch you in the ass if the mood strikes me.