The spring winds bide their time playing poker, while college students nervously look over their notes a third time--for the first time--and take up prayer. On every freeway in Los Angeles there is at least one person who has no concept of car repair, their imminent need for it, or how to turn on their emergency blinkers.

And once again, it's that time where we part our hands: either to tenderly clasp the palms (and whatever else) of someone(s) we care about...or to crack open another can of Harp stout, download porn, and howl at the moon.

Yup, it's Single's Awareness Day (SAD) weekend, and anyone who knows me knows exactly what I'll be doing to celebrate.

The funny thing about SAD is that it means next to nothing to me. I haven't gotten much involved in what you'd call normal relationships. Yeah, you can tell. See, they've more or less run the gamut between drag street racing or hirsute midgets going at it with a cattle skull: fast and furious only to explode into a fireball of apocalyptic death, or just plain damned disturbing. I'll never forget the time an admirer linked me with a picture of a boque of schlongs, asking me to pick out which resembled mine most closely.

So, I've had 31 flavors of fast or fucked up--but I've only celebrated SAD once, back when I was in high school. I spent 40 bucks in picking out some cute presents for her. In return, two rolls of chapped wet flesh pressed against me in broad daylight, with her parents nary 8 feet away. I've since become more enlightened, for I realize now that I could have just gotten 2 months of premium porn--but this was before cable modems, so I don't judge myself.

But I think SAD is outdated.

Now I don't wanna get off on a rant here, but we only have one day out of the year where a guy is expected to shell out gargantuan sums of money to convince someone that he loves them and is clever, original and, above all, worthy.

Is this capitalism at its best? Is this western culture at its finest hour? For shame, corporate America!

But I have a dream! I envision a world where, every month, some random day is planned out by E!, MTV, and flower companies, where men are expected to shamelessly cram every jeweler, every card shop, every flower boutique, every 24 hour sex shoppe, and throw down some bills to prove that they're still the alpha male, the bedroom zeitgeist, The Man! I have a dream where men are judged not by the content of their character, but how long they work away from their loved one to save, save, save..and spend, spend, spend.

Think about what you got here, think about it:

*Luxury goods skyrocket in sales, kicking more money into the local economies and federal economy. With this kind of rampant spending, you can slap on taxes that'd make the angels (and Republicans) weep, thereby reducing the deficit or giving us Syria-Iran-France-China happy invasion fund money!

*Young teenagers can blow the money of their parents on mindless infatuations, only to pawn the shit off when they discover the wonders of their local drug dealer. It's the circle of life smiling down on the drug lords, where South American drug cartels sing and dance and join hands--which in the process helps strengthen US foreign policy! "Bring 'em on!" in the esteem-worthy words of our glorious President! We can take 'em and convince the world we're the bestest protector ever.

*Women can weed out the worthless misers and mildly interested more quickly. For you hopeless romantics, finding 'the one' (or the completely fucking desperate kleptomaniacal psychopaths) will be easier than ever. And for you cynics, think about what this will do for therapy bills, for marriage. More divorces = more alimony = more tax = lower deficit for more invasion money!

The Republicans would cream their pants to have me on their marketing team! And we can do it. We just need to lobby Congress and the Senate.

I have a dream.

Happy SAD weekend :)

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Warning: the previous was a joke, obviously--hopefully.

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