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.
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 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:
FOR YOUR FEMALE RELATIVES WHO HAVE VOTED FOR TRUMP:
FOR ALT-RIGHT NAZI RICHARD SPENCER:
FOR ANY JAGOFF WHO INSISTS WOMEN NEED TO DRESS LIKE WOMEN. GOTTA TEACH ‘EM EARLY!:
AND LASTLY, FOR YOU GUYS. FROM ME:
h/t to wifey AbbySaurus for showing me these and to Mitch O’Connell for leading me down a dark and hilarious rabbit hole