February 28, 2006

You can measure the calendar year with astounding accuracy simply by walking past the “Seasonal” aisle at Wal-mart (or your local overpriced competitor). You know the aisle I am talking about. It is sometimes referred to as the “profit margin” aisle, in which pieces of paper and plastic can be marked up stratospherically by virtue of the color in which it is printed. When those bits of paper turn red and pink, you can know with the regularity of bran-eating two-year-old with his training pants off that it's that time of year again – specifically, December 26.

Of course, right now it's February 28, which is, in a way, after February 14 th . But it's still February in many time zones (all the important ones, at least), so I feel completely justified in writing about what is, probably, the stupidest holiday of the year, including all those wacky Canadian ones.

Certainly, some people with good attitudes probably look at Valentine's Day in positive terms – the decorations are endearingly tacky and the lines at Italian restaurants are shorter than the lines at the Department of Motor Vehicles, etc. But unlike those silly people, I don't see much use in looking at a piece of half-eaten chocolate as 50% edible. And the stupidness of this holiday is plain for all to see. Think about it. For a significant percentage of the population, Valentine's Day is a torment, a horror, and a royal pain in the butt – a pain in the butt so royal, in fact, that it has been known to show up stamped on Canadian currency. I am referring, of course, to that percentage of the population made up of males in committed relationships. As a single guy, I remain happily immune. So there.

It seems to me that, from the perspective of a male, who is required by international law to be the initiator of all romantic events, there is joy to be had in making the female (who is required by international law to be continually suspecting that her male is a jerk) as radiantly happy as possible. The male knows, however, that in order to achieve maximum female happiness, there needs to be an element of surprise (with some guys, any happiness at all would be a surprise). This is simple enough during most days of the year that do not have “OBLIGATION TO DO SOMETHING INCURABLY ROMANTIC” written on them. Unfortunately, Valentine's Day is exactly that kind of day. As far as Valentine's sentiments go, “I just wanted to placate you and, possibly, society!” is somewhat less satisfying than "I did it out of my spontaneous love for you!"

Sure, “I love you” is a great three-word phrase. But “under no obligation” has its perks, too. Not that all singles understand this. Some see Valentine's Day as a day to mope and moan, because it seems like everybody but them is getting bombarded with gigantic, embarrassingly tacky displays from Wanda's Discount Flower Deliveries. They should see Valentine's Day as a day to rejoice! They can reserve moping and moaning for those times when it'd be really nice to not be single, like when you're running for governor or something.

Moping and moaning on Valentine's Day ought to be forbidden, and for a very good reason. Studies have shown that Valentine's Day moping and moaning can lead directly to Communist-style totalitarianism, a form of government rated by 4 out of 5 Americans as “probably bad.” How is such a thing possible, you might be asking. The link should be obvious: elementary schools.

If there weren't any rules in place for Valentine's Day, what would happen on February 14th in primary education? Why, some people would get tacky discount displays, and some people wouldn't – the very essence of unfairness! So, in order to stave off moping and moaning, the powers that be (and possibly also the guidance counselor) got together and concocted a Communist-style totalitarian scheme – “We'll force all the kids to bring cards for everybody. That way everybody will feel special!” For this, they used a special kind of logic that exists only inside of education departments and underneath certain English rabbit holes. The result was, unfortunately, that nobody felt special, but everybody felt annoyed by having to bring 25 cards depicting Batman and/or Care Bears informing classmates as sincerely as Batman and/or Care Bears can that the non-gender-specific child is “A great pal!” And from Care Bears, the next step can lead nowhere but Communism.

Think about it! If some inept but powerful organization, such as, say, the federal government, gets a load of all the moping and moaning, they might force adults to distribute mass amounts of Hallmark style affection to everyone they know! Wouldn't that be awful? Oh sure, the mopers and moaners might feel a little better knowing that Michelangelo thinks they are “one awesome dude,” but how much better will they feel knowing that somebody was forced to trudge down a high profit margin aisle to deliver the message? Will the government also distribute approved heart candy with federal-style messages of affection such as “Yours Always (Except in Massachusetts, Void Where Prohibited)?” Who would want that? Not me! So no moping and no moaning!

Okay, maybe a little moping and moaning. I think I'm entitled to a teensy bit after I tried to sing various “du-wop” style songs for a “Ladie's Appreciation Banquet” at church, in which all the ladies got to sit back and relax while the men poured gravy all over their vegetables. Well, I should make it clear that I'm not in the least bit upset to have tried to entertain the wonderful females at Melrose Church of Christ, excepting the fact that none of the college age ladies came (pooh on them!), so they didn't get to hear my leet bass du-wop skillz. On second thought, maybe that's not such a bad thing.

In order to appreciate the many things the ladies do for us men, we sang a selection of four songs – including “In the Still of the Night,” whose deep and meaningful lyrics (specifically, “shoo-doop, doo-bee-doop”) speak to our love and affection for the opposite sex, followed by “Oh Lord It's Hard to be Humble,” which speaks to our even deeper love and affection for ourselves. Over the course of the evening, I managed to hit an impressive 85% of the bass notes within a half step above or below the note as written. Fortunately, everybody laughed and said we were wonderful, so rather than second guessing it, I'm just going to eat up the praise. Thank you, ladies. You're wonderful, too. Except you college ladies. Because you didn't show up. Not that I'm bitter.

Fortunately, February is on the way out and March, a much better month as measured in number of spring breaks, is the on the way in. But for next year, if you're tempted to mope and moan, always remember – the Power Rangers think you're cool.