"Now I like some candlelight and canoodling as much as the next guy, but Valentine's Day is nothing but a ploy for corporate douchebags like Hallmark to line their coffers with the hard earned wages of the working man.
You don't need a sanctioned day in the calendar to get your inner freak on, buddies. Like my friend the gregarious child-baiter Roman Polanski always says, 'ever-ree day is zee ... 'ow you say... jour de Valen-teeeeen.'
Now all this talk of hackneyed romantic sentiment and vapid consumerism takes me back to the 1980s, back when I was in over my head with the Material Girl herself. Yep, it's time for another Sean Penn morality tale from the trenches of Hollywood.
Now I'll be the first to say that I was young, dumb and riding on the Hokusai wave of my ego. I was in my twenties, had a stomach you could carve bread on, plus I still kicked off each morning with a boner the size of the Seattle Space Needle.
You wouldn't think it now with her leather saddle face and goosehonk Jersey Shore accent, but back then Madonna was some primo fuckin' trim my friends. I mean, even before I met her I was spilling gallons of man milk to that Lucky Star video.
So anyway we finally met at the MTV Video Music Awards in '84, I fingerbanged her while Wang Chung were onstage performing and it was on like Donkey Kong.
Amour Fou, as the French call it. That whole time was intense. The combination of that smelly Eye-tie pussy and all the disco dandruff floating around Hollywood sent me temporarily insane. She was always on at me to buy her shit. Cartier this, Vuitton that. And like a fool I complied.
Then coming up to Valentine's Day it all popped off. She said she wanted a diamond encrusted dildo and a romatic sejourn in the Maldives, complete with two white stallions we would ride around the island on in between bouts of frenetic sex.
That's when I had to stop giving in and start getting real.
I took Madonna to one side and told her that being with Hollywood heart-throb Sean Penn should be enough for any woman. Material possessions won't fill a spiritual void.
And even if she had some grade A poontang that was whistlin' dixie, the Platinum Amex was going back in the wallet with the quickness.
She went berserk, shouting at me through her nose about how she was the greatest music star in the world, the Queen of Pop, and so on and so on and so on until I broke out my Louisville Slugger and went Babe Ruth on her ovaries.
And that was that. We got divorced later that year. I guess what I'm trying to say is, just as Luther Vandross and Janet Jackson confirmed on the Mo' Money soundtrack, 'the best things in life are free'. Love, democracy and clean potable water for the developing world.
So this Valentine's Day, you can either drop some major benjamins on a fancy restaurant and let them do the heavy lifting ... or you can run your girl a bath, slip on Sade's Diamond Life LP and get all Gene Simmons on her map of Tasmania. You tell me which one is guaranteed to have her painting the walls white."
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