Welcome dear traveler to the last sanctuary of insanity in this world for the hopelessly dull and destitute. Today is V-Day, a horrible time where tiny fat angels fly around firing off red tipped arrows in the hopes of ruining lives and destroying dreams. It is a day where people give each other their hearts, both symbolically, and perhaps most disturbing of all, quite literally. These hearts are subsequently ripped open and devoured. Those of us who choose not to celebrate in this sanguine merriment are considered unloved and outcast from society.
I've already told you what love is. Don't make me repeat myself. Whyever humanity sought to make a holiday for something so incomprehensibly anti-human I would never be able to explain. Fortunately, V-Day isn't about love at all, not erotic nor filial nor any of the many Venusian complexities created to confuse the average heterosexual male when his female companion is angry at him. (Sorry guys, but you can't win today... or any day for that matter.) V-Day is a Hallmark holiday, and like all great Hallmark holidays, it was created for the sole purpose of selling cards and other oddities and not give a rat's ass about its namesake (examples: see Mother's Day, Father's Day, Christmas). Saint Valentine has as much to do with romance as Saint Patrick has to do with booze.
The Church had long established the celebration of St. Valentine (who has nothing to do with the subject matter present) in mid February, possibly to supersede an older Roman fertility festival. Roman fertility festivals tend to carry a lot of drunken orgies and a fantastic amount of sex, so it is perhaps because of this that an air of romance, which is really just something guys use to get girls in the sack, developed around V-Day. By the mid-20th century this practice had become an excuse for men to pretend to be romantic in the hopes of getting laid and women to engorge themselves on sweets. The whole bit with the cards, which had been around since the 18th century, stuck around, despite nobody really caring about that sort of thing.
Today, V-Day is a bustling mid-winter festival which still holds true to its roots: wasting time and money, the American dream. To this day, I don't know how the cherubs fit in or how Eros/Cupid somehow got turned into one. I was going to research it, but screw it.
Enjoy ripping out peoples hearts and eating them. Kali-ma!
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