What of this "Valentine's Day?" A friend of mine has christened it Black Thursday, akin to that famous day of the plagues in the Middle Ages -- Black Friday. (Last year, of course, he had Black Wednesday and next year he'll have the genuine article.) Apparently it's a good day each year for 99 Rock, where he's a DJ: lots of people like to call in with brokenhearted and spiteful song requests. And the other day I got a bulletin gleefully proclaiming, "This Thursday is V-Day, which is not only Valentine's Day but VAGINA DAY!" (exclamation point added, capitals not). "V-Day" will be all about performing the Vagina Monologues and benefiting the women of Afghanistan.
So, what of this enigmatic holiday, anyway? Is it Black Thursday or VAGINA DAY? Could it be both? I wouldn't wish a plague on anyone's vagina. Could it be a megaprofit venture for the greeting card companies? You bet your proverbial bippy. Needless to say, everyone wants a piece of the Valentine's Day action. Everyone has an agenda that they think Valentine's Day is perfect for pushing. We must ask ourselves, then, have we lost the holiday's original intent along the way? Gone is the sentiment of love and passion, fled are the cherubs with their asinine ass-cheeks. Forget the ribbon and lace, forget the box of creamy chocolates; those worthy items are lost in the proprietary shuffle. Have we forgotten the true meaning of Valentine's Day?
Ah, hell, who cares! I want a slice of the pie too! Now I just have to figure out what kind of agenda I want to champion. What message do I want scrawled on every valentine? What thought do I want to cross the minds of young lovers at their candlelit, romantic dinner (besides the obvious, God love their unbridled little hormones)?
"Ban testing on hairless monkeys."
Yes, that could work. Who needs naked little angels to represent Cupid and his minions? Hairless monkeys with bows and arrows would work just as well. Of course, those animal rights guerrillas would have a conniption, but they can kiss my orangutan. No, wait, they're supposed to be the supporters of the campaign. Forget that idea -- too much work.
"Lower emissions."
No, I don't know what that means.
"Less ice on the sidewalks and less biting wind."
That would be a worthy cause, and I'm sure I would have a lot of followers. Everybody hates walkways that make them slip and gusts that flay the skin off their faces. One might say that it's a universal human concern. We could petition the weathermen with big signs shaped like hearts that say "Feel the Love -- Stop the Wind!" Their dread reign would be over at last. I could be a hero to the hoi polloi, as big as Johnny Cash or Kevin Costner's Postman.
Nah, I don't have time for that kind of widespread goodwill. So I'll just take the easiest route and make my agenda purely dedicated to myself. After all, who better to benefit from Valentine's Day than me? Sure, you could argue for the needs of war-torn Afghan women or houseless Hondurans, but let's face it, I have needs too. I hereby declare this Valentine's Day as V-J-Day, with proceeds dedicated solely to Jeff Deck.
What, you might ask, will V-J-Day be all about? Well, for starters, all those little candy hearts will have to be changed in order to be relevant to me. Hence "Kiss Me" becomes "Kiss Jeff" and "Be Mine" becomes "Be Jeff's," and so forth. In fact, consider the entire realm of Valentine's sweets to be under my control. Take your chocolates and give them to me. I'll make sure they go to an appropriate source.
As for those ornate lace-and-red-construction-paper valentines I'm sorry, but those will have to go. They have no place in V-J-Day. The only valentines that I will allow must be made of cover sheets from the Berry printer and all the names must be crossed off and replaced with my own. Ha, how about that? I've got a real-world agenda, after all: recycling those piles of wasted papers. Take that, Nader.
I'm afraid there will have to be another classic Valentine's Day element subtracted from the equation, and that is the candlelit, romantic dinner enjoyed by so many tenderhearted young lovers. It doesn't matter what I said before, this part has to be scrapped. It conflicts with the basic philosophy of V-J-Day, which is to concentrate on advancing my agenda -- namely, me. I don't gain anything by watching you googly-eyed twits murmur at each other and drool in your salads as a maestro plays the violin a safe distance away. Skip right to the marathon sex, I don't care.
All right, I've outlined what V-J-Day will be like; now I invite you to create your own agenda for Valentine's Day. Feel free to incorporate whatever campaigns or ethos you'd like. It's your holiday to play around with. Nobody owns it, not even Hallmark, Incorporated. If you want to wear dark glasses all day and mutter only the words "contamination helix" when spoken to, that's your privilege. If you want to burn an eight-foot-tall effigy of bare-bottomed Cupid out on the Green, by all means do so. Be free, be original and ditch those paradigms. Nobody needs 'em anyway.
