Emotions can't be prescribed, prepackaged, manufactured, or otherwise dictated, so why does our culture persist in essentially napalming Valentine's Day all across billboards, advertisements, shopping aisles, and mindsets? Mass marketing and dispassionate displays of repetitive catch phrases, gaudy trinkets, and farm raised bouquets strike up the question of whether we are all supposedly seriously that alike.
I can't think of the last time I took a serious second glance at the card section, heart-shaped candy area, or the cellophane wrapped grab bag of candles, lotions, and other such chick get-up. Even Fresh Market, that small grocery chain who always seems to create an authentic atmosphere for it's passionate relationship with food, sold out to the duplicate gift giving idea. My wife and I tend to venture there on the occasion to window shop primarily and to pick up a few whims mostly. We found ourselves there yesterday afternoon, and were instantly taken aback at the front entrance which had been overtaken by penis wearing vultures tearing at the chocolate covered strawberry and coronary cookie display.
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