If you are recently single, terminally single or you just think Valentine’s Day sucks Stegosaurus soap, then you are in the overwhelming majority on this lovely February day.

Considering that Valentine’s Day started with the runners as a empire-wide orgy with the explicit objective of deflowering the New Year’s poon hold-outs, we can declare, without qualification, that it is a much more boring day in modern times. As the centuries passed, Valentine’s Day evolved into an occasion for women to do sexual favors for men. After the feminist neo-commercialism revolution of 1971, men were required to buy loads of crap and reserve expensive hotel rooms or face banishment into the fifth dimension.

The only reason they were able to get away with such atrocities is because the revolution left the name intact. For over 3700 years, February 14th held its proper title as Steak & Blowjob Day. Depending on the culture, it took various names like Make Me A Sandwich Day. The French pioneers of the Louisiana Territory called it Show Me Your Boobs Day. That particular variant was so successful, it turned into a month long celebration called Mardi Gras.

For those who don’t know French, “Mardi” means “show me” and “Gras” means “your boobs.”

Of course, the facts are of little consolation to those currently feeling the inexorable weight of depression closing in. For those readers, we quote the sage advice of contemporary American philosopher Kenny Rodgers from his poetic essay, The Gambler:

Every gambler knows that the secret to survival is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep. Every hand is a winner and every hand is a loser. The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.

So, boys and girls, turn toward your windows, crush out your cigarettes, fade off to sleep and pray for death. There’s really no reason for you to continue. You can accelerate the process with a coffee mug full of Benadryl. Since it’s pink and white, you won’t forget why you are setting yourself up to induce respiratory failure and choke on vomit.

Whatever you decide, just make sure to max out those credit cards with drugs and whores before offing yourself. Good luck. You'll need it because you just aren't enough of a metrosexual to survive in this brave new world.

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