February. ‘Tis the month that celebrates Blacks, feeding birds, Kosovo’s independence and the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Also, ’tis the month of Valentine’s Day and, of course, my birthday.
I loathe Valentine’s Day. Always have, always will. My hatred of this day has nothing to do with whether or not I have a dear one in my life. It has to do with the over-hyped worshipping of a pervy, nekkid little kid wearing wings and carrying a bow and arrow who is all about shooting folks in the ass so they’ll fall in love — usually with the first person they spy with their little eyes. Also, the whole if-you-don’t-have-a-Valentine-on-Valentine’s-Day, then you’re a pathetic loser who has probably done something to deem yourself unworthy of love. If you’re single on Valentine’s Day, then you suck out loud.
HOWEVER, during my daily news search, something crossed my path that has made me reconsider my feelings about Valentine’s Day. I now see it as a lovely, bright spot on this rancid rock we all call home. It’s worth celebrating now because of couples like this:
Happy Valentine’s Day, folks.