Monday, February 6, 2012

Cupid, Draw Back Your Bow



Boy, I'm bummed!

My holiday comes up next week and as always, it is the lamest holiday ever.   A gratuitous pit stop on the calendar artificially manufactured to sell greeting cards, roses, and courses in anger management that do not have to prove effective for more than a single day.   

Oh, my name's Cupid, how the hell are ya?  Yeah, I'm naked but that was never my idea.  It's February, Zeus damn it, and I'm freezing my pee pee off!

How I got stuck being the Grand Kahuna of St. Valentine's Day is beyond me. I originally put in for Shavuos but got turned down.  Somebody said a chubby Italian kid shooting arrows hither and yon wasn't appropriate for a Jewish holiday. They said even my most potent arrows couldn't make Jewish men sexy.

How do I hate thee, Valentine's Day?  Let me count the ways.

For the holiday supposedly with a heart,  you are particularly heartless for single people.  All around them they see couples nuzzling, looking ardently into each other's eyes,  and pawing one other passionately.  

Of course, these are strictly the boozed-up ones who've just met each other at the bar.  

Still, the single individual feels depressed and left out on this day, yearning for a Significant Other other than the one at the other end of his arm.  As at Christmas, there's lots of suicides on Valentine's Day, almost all of them occurring immediately after commercials for Kay Jewelers.

Married couples fare no better with thee, Valentine's Day

Of any ten random married couples, four hate each other with the same passionate intensity that Kevin James hates being funny.  For these people, the day begins with breakfast at a table that becomes progressively longer the longer they eat, resulting finally in one of the two being unceremoniously shoved out on the front lawn.

At work, they harangue one and all about the despised spouse to such a degree that most of their co-workers quit, the leading cause of corporate failure and bankruptcy in the United States.  Having picked up the requisite box of chocolates or roses --- often with specified extra thorns --- they return home and spend a forced minute or two exchanging gifts and attempting a token kiss, missing each other's lips with the best of luck by at least a good foot and a half or more. 

Thereafter they have dinner and repair to an evening of internecine conflict the likes of which I haven't seen since the Peloponnesian War! 

Of the ten random couples, four are indifferent to each other.  For these folks, Valentine's Day is a day of professing deep feelings  that they do indeed have --- for other people!  The husband presents flowers to the wife that he'd like to be presenting to the woman in Marketing with the big boobs, and the wife gives chocolate to the husband she'd like to be tendering in person to George Clooney.

If they do it all, it is George Clooney and Melissa Goldstein in Marketing who are in reality having the sex. 

Finally, two of the couples actually do love each other with the same deep romantic passion that an orthodontist feels for anyone who's English! 

These people count the micro-seconds until they can be home again in one another's arms, present to their beloveds chocolates, roses carefully de-thorned, and gifts from Kay Jewelers worthy of  Burt Lancaster/Deborah Kerr - sized smooching, and do the deed  for hours on end like the mightiest of Olympians!

Frankly, these folks don't need Valentine's Day.  What they could use is a break.  
Their kids haven't seen them since August. 

So what about you?  Where do you fall in the spectrum on this most lamest of holidays?

 I thought so!  Well, that's what my arrows are for, my friend.

Shall I take aim?  

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