The RROY REPORT for 2/14/08
WHAT I DID FOR LOVE: It has come to my attention this week that there is a War on Valentine’s Day. And since Bill O’Reilly is busy with unimportant stuff, it’s up to me to step up.
It all started when I innocently asked some co-workers (women, not men. I don’t talk to the men in the office if it can be avoided) what they were doing for V-Day. It was if I asked them if they beat their dogs.
“I hate Valentine’s Day. No one is going to tell me when I should be romantic. Why should I only show love for my husband one day out of the year? (to which I pointed out that you’re not only thankful on Thanksgiving, are you?). And blah, blah, blah. And then they pointed to some article that ran in our paper by some teenager about how Valentine’s Day sucks and so on. ‘Cause, you know, no one is more of an expert on love than a teenager.
Well, I will not stand by while people wage war on love. If you let people tear down love the next thing you know they’ll be taking your dead bodies and injecting them with plastic and putting them on display in some damn science center.
I know some of you are taken aback. “You, Roy? Mr. Misanthrope? What do you care about Love?” Well, I do care. Love will keep us together. Love is the answer. The word is Love. It’s So Fine. It’s Sunshine.
Yeah, I know what you’re saying now. “Sure, easy for you to say. You married the hot, smart, sexy, adorable, kind, caring, thoughtful, wonderful and nice lawyer.” Granted. I’m the luckiest sonofabitch on Earth, but it wasn’t always that way. Let me tell you about MY teenage love life. Well, we’re done. I will grant you that unrequited love is not the good kind.
Anyway, yes, it’s easy to be hard and cynical and write clever, sarcastic bits about love and flowers and chocolates and all that. But think on this:
2/3 of The Beatles’ catalogue wouldn’t exist.
You wouldn’t exist. OK, admittedly for some of you tequila or failed contraceptive devices was more of a catalyst for conception than love, but I’m sure that’s a small number.
Romantic comedies would just be comedies. And they still wouldn’t be very funny.
All those “I Heart Fill-in-the-Blank” bumper stickers, T-shirts and whatnot would be meaningless.
The rose is just a flower.
Romance novelists would just be novelists. No, that’s not right. They’d probably just be magazine freelancers.
Michael Buble would have to get a real job.
Judge Judy would be the only thing on daytime television.
Where Would You Be Now?
So, to all of you Valentine’s Day haters out there — kiss off. Or better yet, get kissed. It might just change your attitude.