Original image, sans caption, from PajamaGram dot com.
The annual capitalist pig run-up to Valentine’s Day leaves a particularly repellent aftertaste on the Twisty palate this year, so I will take a moment out of my idyllic agrarian schedule (did I mention that I bought a horse? And that I am considering dropping out of society indefinitely?) and blame it.
Join me now, those of you with iron stomachs, as we contemplate the massive pussygrab that is Valentine’s Day. It’s a national mega-bootycall in a paper-lace heart-shaped candy coating. Dudes throw a bundle of plastic-wrapped gas station roses at the straight girls once a year, and the straight girls are supposed to go to pieces over this magnanimous declaration of ‘love’. According to cultural narrative, the macho male is supposedly hardwired to ‘forget’ Valentine’s Day; this is so that even the crappiest box of stale Russell-Stover chocolates will be received with tears of wide-open-beaver gratitude. Overwhelmed that he has actually remembered to observe the cheap valentinian conventions with such clumsy pink-and-red love pantomimes as are prescribed on the great day, the woman’s learned behavior is to obligingly turn out in the Frederick’s of Hollywood stripper drag that properly feted Valentinees are expected to wear, poised for the humpty-hump.
Maybe her “sexy & flirty PJs” arrived earlier that day in a PajamaGram, a Valentine’s Day gift with which the priapic dude may hope to “spoil her.” Lard knows it’s not every day a girl receives a “Pink Seduction Chemise” in an “organza hat box” ($65.95); naturally the only reasonable response to such a heartfelt expression of devotion is to cook him a nice dinner and afterward let him rip the chemise off you on the living room rug.
It is charming that “spoiling her” may also consist of presenting one’s beloved with an $80 teddy bear. Have you seen the commercials on TV? According to Vermont Teddy Bear.com, the anxiety of the would-be seducer at a loss for the right gesture may be entirely relieved by purchasing one of their stuffed bears. Nothing turns an adult woman into kinky-putty in your hands like the gift of a child’s toy dressed in a fig leaf that says “Let’s Get Bear Naked!”
Nothing, that is, except tacky heart-shaped diamond pendants from American department store JC Penney. Their TV ad shows one of these cheap baubles swinging slowly back and forth like a hypnotist’s pocket watch, while the male voiceover says something like “You are getting sleepy. You think I am the best-looking stud in the room. You will love me longtime. You will perform fellatio on me and 3 of my friends.” In the corner of the screen, the price of the hookup flashes: $99.99.
It’s not relevant to the antifeminist character of Valentine’s day, but damn, this is some butt-ugly jewelry.
Women’s status as a class of purchasable receptacles is never in question, of course. Valentine’s Day merely represents the dime stores’ efforts to get in on a piece of the action, the venerable exchange of shiny objects for sex. Like one purveryor of cheap crap from China says, “Walgreen’s has everything you need to express your love.”