The Angina Monologues

Feminists give me a deep pain in my heart.

Okay, actually, they don't. They give me a deep pain in my ass. But I couldn't think of a word for rectal pain that sounded like vagina, so I went with the angina metaphor instead.

Anyway, happy Valentine's Day to all of you. Except those of you that call it V-Day, and go to performances of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues. Because that whole scene is sort of creepy and man-hating.

V-Day is supposed to be about preventing violence against women. Okay, I'm down with that. But that ain't how these V-Day things go. They turn into male-bashing festivals.

And ya know what? Male-bashing is stupid. All that gender war stuff is stupid.

Have men done lots of ugly stuff to women? Yes, and they didn't deserve it.

But women have done lots of ugly stuff to men, and they didn't deserve it either. (But when a male moose, say one named Danny, does ugly stuff to another moose, say one named Chapeau, it's all totally deserved, because he's a doo-doo head. Trust me on that one.)

Anyway, Valentine's Day is a holiday celebrating love. I think it's harmful and narrow and destructive to try to co-opt an event that is about positive emotions, and turn it into some sort of bull-dyke pity party.

So today, I am asking you to ignore the nattering feminists, and hug someone you love. Don't worry about any differences you may have. Those are normal, and add spice to your coupling.

Oh, and you chicks who are single this Valentine's Day? I have a little advice for you. Don't do the man-hating thing. Just present the best version of yourself that you can. Oh, and stop looking for a "sensitive male." Seriously. If you throw your lot in with one of those, you'll wake up one morning and ask yourself, "How the fuck did I end up married to a woman with a penis?"

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