Disclaimer: Please take this is in the spirit in which it was written. I actually enjoy Singles’ Awareness Day Valentine’s Day.
Dear Men of the Universe,
I have been very nice to you. You are free from premenstrual syndrome, menstruation, pregnancy and labor, and menopause. And how do you repay me? By systematically oppressing women.
So stop it.
You heard me.
Stop it.
You know very well what I’m talking about. The boxes of chocolate, the elaborate flower arrangements, the overstuffed animals/bugs, the poorly written poetry mass-produced by greeting card companies–it needs to end.
I know what you’re thinking. “We’re ruining your planet and the entire animal kingdom and you’re upset about one lousy holiday?” Damn straight I am, Jack. But since I know you only respond to masculine authority, I’ve been speaking with God about an appropriate scheme to convince you to change your ways. He has since referred me to an attorney. You might know him–Luc I. Fer. You’ll be hearing from us presently.
But Valentine’s Day. This is such a ridiculous piece of nonsense that I am convinced I can handle it myself. I am a feminist, jack-ass. And I’m as pissed as a 6’6 rugby player whose game was ruined by a brown-nosing CPA. (That would be you, genius.)
I don’t condemn love, sex, relationships–they’re all fantastic. When the Lord Almighty decided to pair the human species off into two-by-twos he was onto to something, I grant you.
But when you develop a commercial holiday solely for the purpose of selling useless crap to couples who will be broken up by February 15th that silmuteanously destroys the self-esteem of millions of women, it’s time to say, The ride ends here.
What do I propose you do to stop this ridiculous holiday?
I suggest you cease, desist, and end production– effective immediately. Stop promoting a false holiday in the interests of improving the emotional health of a set of human beings.
No? You refuse? Money is more important than the emotional health of a few nobodies?
Well. I guess this means I will have to play hardball.
I didn’t want it to come to this. I thought we could all be adults and come to a reasonable conclusion. But since you prefer to cling to your patriarchal oppression, I will retaliate.
I currently have Cupid, the Easter Bunny, the Sand Man, and Santa in custody. Unless you agree to cancel Valentine’s Day, I will begin shooting these hostages, starting with the fat pervert with the wings in the diaper. If you don’t cooperate, you can explain to your two-year old daughter why her father’s value of monetary success over human beings led to the death of the benevolent Kris Kringle.
You have twenty-four hours.
Sincerely,
The Shrew
aka Mother Nature
