Love is in the Air. Run.

I hate Valentine’s Day. I hate it with the passion of a thousand burning suns that can only be extinguished on Cupid’s face. Never mind the horrible commercialization of this bullshit holiday, February 14th has historically and personally been a day of Nicolas Cage-disaster-movie-proportions. I won’t get into the sordid specifics here, because they sound very hyperbolic, but I assure you one day, I’ll share them. And then have my friends and family corroborate them.

AT ANY RATE. For those who still want to, and I use this term loosely, “celebrate” this dreaded holiday, I got you covered. I’ve provided some card options for your beloved so you’re not scrambling at the last minute trying to find the perfect card. You’re welcome.

FOR TRUMP:

Full disclosure: When I first saw this next card, I thought FOR SURE the boy in the cauldron was flashing the little girl, and in a move of modesty, they put a heart over his cash and prizes. And you know what? Fuck it. I’m sticking with that assessment because it just fits.

FOR BANNON:

FOR SEAN SPICER, WHO SEES THIS AND THINKS HE WANTS A HOT DOG, GETS ONE, CHOKES ON IT, LIVES, BUT THEN HAS TO DEFEND HIMSELF WITH ALTERNATIVE FACTS FOR CHOKING ON A GODDAMNED HOT DOG UNTIL THE END OF DAYS:

FOR TRUMP’S CABINET OR YOUR STATE SENATORS/REPRESENTATIVES (or Petr):

FOR YOUR GUN-TOTING TODDLER WITH A HIGHER KILL COUNT THAN JACK BAUER:

FOR TRUMP’S CABINET WHO SWEAR THEY’VE GOT OUR BEST INTERESTS AT HEART: