Vally Day Special: The Fattest Whore or Punk Spiritual Holiday

WARNING: POST TASTES LIKE BILE. USE EXTREME CAUTION. CONTACT WITH EYES MAY CAUSE SEVERE IRRITATION OR BLINDNESS. INHALATION KNOWN BY THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA TO CAUSE CANCER. FATAL IF SWALLOWED; DO NOT INDUCE VOMITING UNLESS PROMPTED BY POISON CONTROL.

IT IS AGAINST FEDERAL REGULATIONS TO USE THIS PRODUCT IN ANY MANNER INCONSISTENT WITH ITS LABELING. MAXIMUM PUNISHMENTS MAY VARY DEPENDING ON STATE.

DIRECTIONS: DO NOT READ UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. WHEN NECESSARY, MIX THREE (3) OUNCES WITH ONE (1) GALLON WATER. STIR WELL AND SIP SLOWLY OVER THIRTY (30) MINUTES. REPEAT UNTIL SYMPTOMS SUBSIDE. DO NOT SWALLOW CONCENTRATE FORM. LIFE INSURANCE POLICY RECOMMENDED BEFOREHAND.

The Story of a Real Man (TM)

A man with body armor, a face shield and birdshot sprays a dozen aisles of glass goods specially chosen and placed for his enjoyment. The crumbling of glass trinkets and ceramic kitchenware into dust and shrapnel is outspoken by the eardrum-rupturing thoomb of the pump action twelve gauge.

Forty-nine rounds and three years-worth of nominal hearing damage later, that same man rubs a sore shoulder and heaves, perhaps cursing that he did not have more ammunition. He is content nonetheless because instead of causing “life” and “love” on this most holy of days, he caused destruction. That man loves—and I mean loves—Valentine’s Day.

Actually, he loves to hate Valentine’s Day.

His Plan to Save the World

Here’s an idea. Let’s all buy expensive Valentine’s Day gifts and help out the poor proprietors of Walmart and the Dollar General because, God forbid that I sin on this most holy of days by not providing the people I love with chocolate and candy. Because, if I don’t give them chocolate, I don’t love them—not one tiny bit, right? Isn’t that fair? Isn’t that the truth?

So, if I don’t give that person or those people anything, what am I telling them? Am I telling them that I don’t love them? Am I telling them that I am too lazy to buy them anything, or that they don’t mean enough to me to bother with going to the store for? Am I telling them that they just aren’t worth the money, or that I am just a cheap person? Don’t they have a right to be offended?

I won’t consider anyone who loves me on those terms worthy of consuming my fecal matter, much less my time.

ADHD Side Note:

You know what? I am a male—you know how much is expected of men on Valentine’s Day, right? If I was dating someone, I would dump the ever living fuck out of them if, after I had gotten them a six-hundred-dollar ring, I didn’t at least receive a bouquet of flowers afterword—and not the cheap shit, either. I want real fucking flowers. I’m a gardener, for God’s sake, and I know the difference between shit and quality, so don’t you go fucking me with some knockout rose bullshit.

You should be buying (or growing!) ME flowers throughout the year, not just on one fucking day. Why you ain’t never give me no flowers? Bitch, good-fucking-bye.

My Address is 6019 Long And Winding Lane East, St. Walnut, FL, 34256. Just thought you might like to know.

You see how stupid and shitty this damnable holiday is?

WTF Have You Been Smoking??

Jesus Effing Fitzgerald—how shallow shall we teach our children to be? “If you buy your loved ones things, that means you love them. Life consists of things, for without things we have nothing—quite literally.” Well, that’s fine if the wealth and measure and value of your life and of love consists solely in chocolates purchased on holidays—and other physical, pocketbook-emptying attractions.

If there isn’t a substance beneath that “special chocolate holiday purchase” holding you and your “loved ones” together, then I suppose there isn’t any purpose in all of your gifts. So, fuck you, ya dick bag. Sum up the value of all of your tangible assets, and that dollar amount will be henceforth how much you are worth, because value doesn’t extend beyond the physical.

Therefore, all human life is worthy only of the sum of what it accumulates or what it can create with what it has accumulated. Therefore, humans are all consuming, hoarding robots, and those who hoard the most physical objects increase the most in actual value.

Therefore, humans who do not produce tangible products should not live and consume because they are valueless and are wasting space and resources that other pro-production individuals could be using to increase the total calculable value of humanity.

Therefore, Heil Hitler. Oh, that wasn’t what you were going for?

Just curious Mr. New Hitler, but do you know how much money it costs to buy a one-way ticket out of the ass-crack of hell? Last time I checked—and this has been a while—the number was somewhere around fourteen trillion. That’s been years ago, so with inflation it’s probably even worse now.

The Main Problem With Getting Out Of Hades

Now, there is also a specific issue associated with that dollar figure. In Hell, there aren’t any banks and there aren’t any ATMs, and you can’t really take anything with you when you go. Neither can anyone else, so you can’t smuggle the money in. You lost your soul already, so you can’t use it as a bargaining chip. You can’t access any of that funding that you saved up while topside, and by the time you finally figure out how to get it into hell, your great-great-great nephew and his many friends will have already spent most of it on hookers and coke and fast cars and buying up small islands in the Caribbean.

Why You Should Fuck Off (Valentine’s Day)

Anyway, if you’re me, Valentine’s Day, for an immeasurable number of reasons, can fall into the supermassive black hole in the center of the Milky Way. It is otherwise a useless sack of dust occupying vital space on my calendar. I would say, “sack of shit,” but sacks of shit can be good fertilize, even human shit. Ask early twentieth century Japan.

I say dust because dust just isn’t good for anything except choking people.

No, I’m not bitter at all!

I’m just on a mission.

Other Opinions That Matter:

Take a look at some of the reasons why other people are disgusted with this worthless, impotent, obscene holiday:

From a professional Match Maker, of all people:

http://www.paulcbrunson.com/2014/02/7-reasons-hate-valentines-day/

From a long-time married man, with a good argument:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jim-moret/why-i-hate-valentines-day_b_449779.html

From a relationship guru who says it just “gets in the way of real romance”:

http://www.lifescript.com/well-being/articles/w/why_guys_hate_valentines_day.aspx

(When you’re done with that last web site, you can even scroll down and take a test to see whether or not you are dating a total LOSER! I took the test, and it turns out that I’m dating a complete loser. Oh, wait, I’m not dating anyone. Oops, I guess that quiz doesn’t apply to me, but damn it, I could have sworn…)

Public Apology

For anyone out there who has fond affections for Valentine’s Day, well, sorry, I guess. Probably not. What you do in your own home is no business of mine. What you and your dog and chicken do in your closet together is between you and them; but, for conscious’ sake, remember to have your consent forms signed first. I, on the other hand, will not be punished by society for being sinfully single on this most erotic of days.

FUCK YOU VALENTINES! YOU SACK OF RAW HERNIA FLUID! YOU SLIMY SUBTERRANEAN FUCK WAD! YOU, THE MOST VOMIT-WORTHY HOLIDAY SINCE CHRISTMAS! YOU–

Oops—don’t swallow that last part, that was the concentrate form. You know what? Just go ahead and call poison control, just in case. What’s wrong? Your eyes don’t look too good. I’m calling 911.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Vally Day Special: The Fattest Whore or Punk Spiritual Holiday

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s