It’s well established that Valentine’s is the worst. Not only does it force couples to make extravagant plans they don’t really feel like making and guilts single people for not being deep in the throes of monogamy, it also inspires the worst in comedy. Everyone makes fake valentines to recycle threadbare jokes. Then there are the bad spins on old valentine chestnut poems. “Roses are red, something else is another color, here comes the punchline, please tip your waitress.” Almost always they are insipid and lame. Believe me, I can’t do any better. I just about fell prey to obligation and starting compiling fake valentines from NFL players. I got as far as a “can’t spell Valentine’s without Eli” joke before making myself a mixed drink out of household cleaners.
We will counter the manufactured sentimentality the only way we know how: by celebrating sweet, sweet violent death. First, two hyenas gang up to rip open a pregnant wildebeest. See, love and its messy byproduct of carrying children will only make you weak. I also enjoy that it was Darnell Dockett who put me on to this clip.
Next, we have an image of a shark eating another shark. Taste of your own medicine, death machine of the deep (haha, sharks don’t take medicine, they just eat things).
If a shark ingests another shark, does it gain its sharky powers, progressively building strength until it transforms into one of these? I certainly hope so.