Ye Ole Story of Valentine's

Few of us know the story behind Valentine's Day, but many of us know the feeling of an empty wallet following it, well us guys and a few butch lesbo's anyway. I'm here to tell you the real history behind this one day of true love.

According to history.com:

One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men -- his crop of potential soldiers. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine's actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.

Other stories suggest that Valentine may have been killed for attempting to help Christians escape harsh Roman prisons where they were often beaten and tortured.

According to one legend, Valentine actually sent the first 'valentine' greeting himself. While in prison, it is believed that Valentine fell in love with a young girl -- who may have been his jailor's daughter -- who visited him during his confinement. Before his death, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter, which he signed 'From your Valentine,' an expression that is still in use today. Although the truth behind the Valentine legends is murky, the stories certainly emphasize his appeal as a sympathetic, heroic, and, most importantly, romantic figure. It's no surprise that by the Middle Ages, Valentine was one of the most popular saints in England and France.

Yea, that's all fine and dandy, but it sounds like some Hallmark card propaganda. I'll revise that story, and shoot it to you straight, the way it really happened:

I will not argue that Valentine's Day was probably started in third century Rome. Most things started in Rome, and that's why we should do as the Romans do, unless the Romans are killing their head of state, which they had a habit of doing, and doing so in the United States would result in probable death (unless you are tried by jury of Democrats). But, that's neither here nor there.

In 3rd century Rome there lived a boy named Jim. Yes, I know this is disappointing and you expected his name to Valentine, Augustine, or Lucius, but I assure you, his name was simply, Jim. Jim lived like many Romans of 3rd century Rome...poorly and fearing for his life. You see, 3rd century Rome was much like present day Iraq, full of military anarchy. Life expectancy was low, and STD's were high (usually not an apples to apples relation, but you had to get it while the getting was good) There was constant barbarian invasion, civil war, and rampant hyperinflation, all of which crippled the Roman Empire. Jim knew the outlook for the Roman Empire was bleak and that now was the time to get out.

Leaving should be easy right? I mean the empire was surrounded by vast uninhabited land and a multitude of uncharted water. Ahh, here in lies the problem...a lady. Her name was Shaunte' and she was a direct descendant of Lindsparis SpearsHilohan, Roman goddess of Prostitutes. Jim met Shaunte' during a trip north on the weekend of February 14th to see the famous Roman music festival "Caesar The Day" featuring such bands as The Mars Volta (not the same Mars Volta of today surprisingly, Venus Envy, and The Little Caesars (a band comprised of three Romans with literal short man syndrome). Needless to say, it was one crazy weekend for Jim.

Shortly after arriving at the amphitheatre, Jim saw the most beautiful woman in all the empire. Sitting on a stone chair with just the sun shining on her at just the right angle sat Shaunte'. Jim, not being shy and ready to procreate to hopefully allow his name to live on, approached Shaunte'. Jim used the pick-up lines taught to him by his ancestors:

Jim: I wanna make like Caesar and invade you.
Shaunte': (giggles, smiles)
Jim: You know, a lot of our contemporaries are having sex, and we are in fact in Rome
Shaunte': So...what does that have to do with me and you?
Jim: When in Rome...

60% of the time, it works every time. Just like that Jim had won Shaunte's heart. But, as always, there was more to the story. Shaunte' wasn't like the other ladies in Rome, she was a bit of an anomaly, a working lady. Shaunte' knew the streets of the Roman Empire better than any ruler, and as a result knew many many many of the men. Including one man that had taken a particular fondness in her and her "work" named Val Voline (yes, this is where the quick lube company got its name, I won't go in detail about how or why, but just think...quick...lube).

Val's full name was, you guessed it, Valentine Venus Voline, or 3V as the ladies called him. Val was a bit of stalker and pedophile, even by Roman Empire terms, and had been watching Shaunte' for quite some time. Never one to turn down business, Shaunte' was always very "nice" and "accommodating" to Val and his wishes, as strange as some of those might be. (It is storied that Val would occasionally request his ladies to tie him up nude, and hurl grapes at his genitals. This is where we get The Grapes of Wrath) Val took Shaunte's affection a little too much to heart, and believed the two would live together forever (or the 3 years Shaunte's diseased body had left to live).

As Jim and Shaunte became "acquainted" with one another in one of the festival tents, Val arrived on the grounds and began to ask around if anyone knew Shaunte's whereabouts. Several men said they had just "been" with her, and they didn't know where she had run off to. This of course angered Val, as he believed for some strange reason that Shaunte' was a one man lady of the night. Val went back to his chariot and got out his bow and arrow to hunt and kill the man that was deflowering (really just reaping a new harvest) his lady. Val was trained in the military as his father was a general in the Roman Empire, so Val knew a thing or two about weaponry and the art of war. Val's father, Extosee, was relieved of his duties in the military after it was revealed he had been making a secret potion that if injected would create such levels of sexual arousal, no one in sight could be resisted. In a very homophobic time and in the military, this clearly was grounds for immediate termination. Val had managed to get his hands on some of his fathers potion and as he made his way to Shaunte' and Jim's tent, he began to soak the tips of the arrows in the potion, which he planned to shoot into the heart of Shaunte'.

Val arrived at the tent of passion and tore open the doorway, there Jim and Shaunte' lie on a bed of leaves passionately ravaging one another. Furious Val pulled an arrow soaked in his father, Extosee's, potion and pulled back on the bow and fired an arrow right into the heart of Shaunte'. She dropped. Jim, staring blankly at Val realized that his love was down, and that he must defend her honor. Before he could mount an offensive, he too was short in the heart. Val, now realizing he had shot both with an arrow soaked in "arousal inducing potion" grasped the problem he would face...each of them would be equally highly aroused. Only one thing to do, stab himself in the heart with an arrow soaked in the potion made from his father Extosee. Now, all three injected with the serum and staggering, anger quickly became lust, and a three day menage a trois ensued.

Sunday, February the 14th, when the effects from the serum wore off, and the decisions they had made over the past three days became clear to the three, all looked pretty embarrassed about their actions. Both Jim and Shaunte' turned their anger and frustration on Val, and chastised him for his disregard to their love. In an effort to win back their favor, and the "love" of Shaunte', Val went to the local florist and bought two dozen red roses, to accompany the pot brownies he had already bought at "Caesar the Day." Now with a stomach full of chocolate, and a bouquet full of roses, how could Jim and Shaunte' not forgive Val?

Forgiven, Val moved on, and each and every Feb. 14th he would reminisce about the weekend at "Caesar the Day," and losing the love of his life Shaunte' to Jim. All was not lost for Val, as he would patent his arousal serum and call it "Ecstasy" after his father. Although he wouldn't live to see it, Val's weekend antics would live on through history and be what we now know as, Valentine's Day.

The end.

Barba-ric Post

My disdain for the horse named Barbaro has been made abundently clear over the course of the last few months. In fact, the posts about Barbaro were some of my more well-written and viewed entries. Well, the good times are over, and sad times are upon us. No, not because Barbaro was put to rest because he was a quitter, but rather because I have nothing more to post about him.

For those of you that might have been in a mild state of coma for the last 6 months, or the rest of you that are generally retarded and can't follow any television programming beyond Blue's Clue's, Barbaro is a horse, and a horse that broke his leg in the Preakniss.

Following this "horrific" injury, the nations heart skipped a beat and the stock exchange shut down to chronicle the story of Barbaro and his recovery. Day in and day out all you heard on ESPN, Fox News, CNN, and the Playboy channel was about this horse (I came to find out the playboy channel was referring to another horse, who ironically was not even a horse, but a human) They spoke of Barbaro as if he was Bill from the 10th floor. You know Bill, he tore his ACL in the company basketball game and hasn't been back to work since. He's on the long road to recovery, and Bill's coworkers, friends, and family visit him often and tell stories about what's been going on in their lives and on the outside world. Barbaro received similar treatment from fans, kids, and even horses.

It took me some time to decide which was worse, the stories about kids and fans writing Barbaro letters, or the doctors and media talking about how Barbaro was talking to neighboring horses and being very responsive. I don't want to seem overly cynical, but it's a horse...it can't read. It can't even be read to. When you sit beside his stall and read him his cards, he isn't retarded or injured, you are. Chin check time because there's probably some drool leaking out of your mouth, and you probably have an enlarged forehead. I know...there I go again being cynical.

If this was "Beauty" from the farm in Kruger, Ms it would have been shot immediately after the bone went pop. You would have broken the news to little Janey and Timmy and told them Beauty had gone to sleep and would be able to run forever in heaven with the other horses. But no, this was Barbaro, king ding a ling (literally probably). We can't just take him out back and shoot him like any other crippled mammal, we have to coddle him and cover him like he was breaking news everyday.

You realize that England, France, Japan, and even Mexico probably laughed their asses off when they turned on their Fox news affiliate and saw the American's covering Barbaro three months after his injury. We became the laughing stock for covering live stock.

Well, fortunately for our "great" nation that all ended last weekend when Barbaro was euthanized. Euthanized is the fancy word for 9mm to the temple. Blunt like James, and beautiful doing it.

So, Barbaro...here is my eulogy to you, peace. Yep, short and sweet, like your meaningless 3 year life. Sure you won the Kentucky Derby, but so have hundreds of other horses. You were nothing special. They won't even make glue out of your hooves. You're nothing and won't be rememebered by anyone. The cards you received...burned. The horses that "talked" to you from their stall...all banging some other stallion. The media who covered you...on to Britney's vagina. Old news Barbaro, old news.

Good riddance.