I <3 St. Valentines Day
By Chris
It's that time of the year again:
romantic evening, kisses and hugs, chocolates, capital earnings, hearts, stars,
moons, clovers, and
balloons, and of course doin' the sex, and all that other crap. Ah yes, of
course, Saint Valentine's Day. But where did this stupid holiday come from?
No one really knows but me.. and the internet, so listen up! I'm gonna make
it quick.
Roman Empire, days of peganism, caesar pissed about military not being up to snuff because guys like getting jerked off instead of getting murdered in the face (which I don't understand). Caesar cancels all engagements and marriages, no more sexy time. Caesar gets a boner for murder - and war.
Mr. Valentine along with his other saintly buddy do the marriages anyway in secrecy. Caesar finds out and sentences his ass to death. But not just any death. The bestest and coolest death ever. Getting beat to death my a hoard of nigerian, lesbo midgets. Well, not the lesbo part.. or the midget part.. and maybe not even the nigerian part. But the ass beating to death part is good to go. So he got beaten to death with clubs and stuff. Maybe a piano. I don't know. Is that not reasonable?
Now that you know the story behind February 14th, compare it to how it's celebrated. St. Valentine's Day clearly has nothing to do with what actually went down. The day of sugar coated sexfest and buying tons of delicious fattenings to entice the one you wanna get nake [SIC] on with is far from what should be happening. We want to celebrate the man behind the holiday.. not your mommy-daddy buttons.
So forget the love, the candy, the cards, the hugs, the kisses and go out on the 14th of February and jaw jack a slut. Beat the shit out of someone like they were marrying people behind your back because that's the true meaning of St. Valentine's Day: blood on your knuckles.
On a side note flowers are still perfectly acceptable. In fact, I encourage giving the people you don't have time to outright pop in the snot locker as many flowers as you can. What better way to tell someone you wanna beat them to death than killing a ton of plants signifying that you are willing to participate in mass murder but just don't have enough time to get around to it; a friendly reminder that there is always next year.
Just remember, when you give that person you're fuckin' their hug and a kiss, try sneaking in a headbutt and say it was an accident.