I guess I have to

As you might have guessed, I am not wild about Valentine's Day. There are not one, not two, but three Saints Valentine, all martyrs, and it's anybody's guess which one was meant when the original holiday was invented.

There is no doubt that the original holiday was invented to do away with a most unfortunate custom the Romans had; all the young men got to pull names in a lottery and the teenaged girls whose names were on the lots were assigned to be the, er, companions of the men in question. So the Big RC substituted a lottery in which the young men got Saint's names on the lots instead, with the joyous prize of getting to try to emulate the chosen saint for the coming year. Pity the poor person drawing Simeon Stylites, who spent his life on the top of a pillar, never leaving it for any reason. All in all, not a very good substitute, at least not if you were a young Roman buck. Let's see, concubine or saint, concubine or saint, that's a tough one.

I would like to point out that nobody asked the girls what they thought about it. Okay, the reality is that they probably didn't think much about it at all. Or if they did they were probably annoyed that they would have to find their own concubinage contracts that year; such are the ways of people. Can't liberate the little ungrateful little buggers for nothin'.

Anyway, by the Middle Ages, all hopes for a spiritual Valentine's Day celebration were pretty much over -- by the 1400s a valentine was the name of your sweetheart. And it also is alleged to have something to do with the belief that the second week of February is when birds choose their mates. But all in all, if somebody asks you to be their Valentine today, you might want to inquire as to whether it involves having your head whacked off.

Just a thought.