Hey, Stupid Cupid, Stop Picking' on Me!

Call me unromantic.  Call me boringly down-to-earth. Call me cold, indifferent or dull, but will someone please tell me what's Cupid with a bow and arrow, or a semi-automatic pistol (if we want to update him to the modern day efficient equivalent of the dart in the heart, as above) got to do with “Roses are red,” etc, etc?

I must admit that I've never subscribed much to St Valentine's day, whether Cupid, or roses, or chocolates. Furthermore, as I've said before on this platform, I find it hard to climb aboard the concept that some priest (or arguably bishop, depending upon the data source), who lost his head at the direction of his emperor, should be the reason why we should reveal, review or repeat our vows of never ending love to our present partners or potential partners of choice. I mean just what has a churchman got to do with chocolates, tulips and cherubs with darts or rounds of ammo?

And why are we so fascinated by the same churchman who refused to support mad Claudius II's belief that the battle-fodder force elements of his Roman army couldn't perform their slaughtering duties efficiently if their heads were filled with languid and sensually alluring day dreams of their bedtime partners? Perhaps my following ditty, which I have revived to kill off all this false and pretentious Val's Day passion, will serve to confuse you further?

 

Ode to the Invalidity of St Val’s Day

The priest we call St Valentine was doubtless very good, 

The patron saint of lovers, fits, and those who nurture bees, 

But pray do tell me why the fuss, and please don’t think me rude, 

If sending flowers, cards or chocolates fills me with unease. 

You see my Scottish heritage has made me rather frugle, 

My better half will verify I only spend when needed, 

And so I turned for evidence to ‘old mate’ Dr Google, 

To help me formulate why Feb 14 should not be heeded. 

It seems when Emperor Claudius II, gave out a new command,  

That Roman army soldiers should abstain from getting wed, 

Our Father Val continued giving them a helping hand, 

By tying the knot and licensing their entry into bed. 

For this our Claud was not amused and locked Val in the slammer, 

To stop his fornicating fighting force from being mislead, 

Perhaps St Val thought Claude’s reaction somewhat of a clamour, 

Until Claude had him beaten, then, to boot, cut off his head. 

Now just what has this story got to do with valid-dity, 

And why we celebrate poor Val when February comes?

The only ones who benefit from Val’s death, more’s the pity, 

Are those who sell us chocs and flowers, and all their retail chums. 

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Seriously, guys and gals … WTF?

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When not researching the weird or the wonderful, the comical or the cultured, the sinful or the serious, I chase my creative side, the results of which can be seen as selected photographs of my travels on my website at:

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The author of the above, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.

Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.