Valentine's Day

The Truth of Saint Valentine's Day! | | One question seems to plague me this holiday season. Why do I hate Valentine's Day? Why do I hate, despise, loathe, and many other creative verbs, Valentine's Day? I feel as though this is a question that tugs at my very heart, or someone else's heart, I keep forgetting which. I'm not sure where my despair of St. Valentines Day originates from, but I do know that it wasn't anything seriously tragic or damaging. I wasn't dropped in a rose patch as a small child. A large red cardboard heart didn't scissor my head from my body. I don't remember a small winged child in a diaper hunting me down; arrows aimed at various tender areas. I'd better stop now; I could go on with these all day. One of my first major problems with this day of Saint Valentine is the repeated appearance of the image of a heart. I'm sorry, but real hearts do not under the most tripped up Nyquil induced high look like those that Hallmark tries to pass off. This flagrant disregard for representation of the human anatomy is going to lead to serious problems. Not that I know what a real human heart looks like. I don't routinely dissect human hearts and keep them in jars under my bed. That's what my fridge is for. Oops I've said too much. Getting back to the issue at hand, am I the only person who can see doctors years from now searching for a heart shaped like two bananas instead of the traditional shape? Deaths from heart failure are going to hit an all time high since the invention of the remote. We are placing our own futures at risk here people! My next biggest issue with this grossly useless holiday, aside from selling leftover Christmas chocolate, is with those Valentines I always had to send out as a youngster. I remember well my Mother bringing home some of the sappiest and noxious examples of Valentine poetry ever. I would spend hours reading through those enamored things with my little black marker, doing my