I am haunted.  It's strange.  Everywhere I look I see Valentine people.

You know, the traditionally-shaped Valentine heart  

doesn’t even resemble the true human heart.  Not even close.

I once had a genius/comrade/friend/renegade in college who as a post-graduate never enrolled in classes but merely sat in without paying.  He had earned a bachelor’s degree in biology once upon a time and though he could have postured professionally amongst the supreme intellectual crème in his field, he decided instead to just drive a cab.  Go figure.   Anwyay,  it turned out that he almost always (except when I happened to share a class with him—he he)  proved himself the most worthy student in any class he participated in.  His attendance was impeccable, his class participation was enormous, and he always had a new theory or insight upon any matter at hand. 

One Valentine’s Day, he advanced the notion that the traditional *Valentine's heart*, though verbally suggestive of “giving one’s loving heart to another” was really graphically more appropriately portraying the act of a female baboon presenting her behind, bright red when in oestrous, to a male as an invitation to courtship.  The message in doing so being “stick it in, baboon boy, I’m bright and tight.”

Well, you know what?  I’ve never done baboons, but I think maybe he was right!  The next Valentine’s heart you see could really be the flushed moon of a female primate beaconing for conjoint male intimacy.

Now why do we have the supposedly most romantic day all year in the typically coldest month of all get-out?  I mean, it would make as much sense to have the Winter Olympics in mid-July.  Ah, don’t tell me that the powsers-that-be couldn’t rid us of this pagan holiday so instead decided, at least, to try to freeze our horny little butts off??!!