Redirecting the Loathe

I have decided to stop naming Milwaukee's snowstorms. Not only has it become difficult to keep up (an increasingly depressing frequency), but it seems that assigning them a moniker just encourages them.

In an effort to redirect my Loathe to another inanimate noun - excluding "person," including "place, thing, and idea" - I bring you this:


This reminds me of a recent SNL sketch where all of the young husbands were making it big and leaving their wives for old African American women.


This is probably more true than we'd all like to believe.


My sentiments exactly - at least some of the time.

Yes, I Loathe V-Day (or, VD, as my friends and I like to say). Capital "L" intentional. Even if I had a Sig-Oth, I think I would still loathe the pressure to perform (conform?) to the impossibly high romantic standards. Even the thought of receiving the redundant and uninspired gift of flowers and chocolate from my honey makes me want to roll my eyes rather than swoon in unadulterated ecstasy.

To me V-Day is just too contrived. I respect the idea of buying your Sig-Oth a gift of appreciation, or carving a night out of your hectic schedules to spend some quality time with each other, but can you not just plan that on your own? Must you have the Hallmark, Russell Stover, and DeBeers trifecta order you to appreciate your sweetheart on this particular day?

The individualistic and independent side of me quails at the thought. I think it's that always must question authority quirk in me that causes me to immediately dismiss that command from society which urges me to celebrate this day, and instead rage, rage against the machine.

Oh wait, I think that's "rage, rage against the dying of the light." Gotta love Dylan Thomas.

PS - I would not do well in a Communist society.