The Day The Stars Crash Into Mud

There are a good many 'holidays' I could lambast and shred with my forked tongue but none are more deserving than Valentines Day (or Cash-In On Fools Day as I have labelled it), which is approaching on its cloud of candy coloured bile.
There are many origins to this custom but whatever the truth behind it, it needs to be stamped out and soon. I don't really care about the companies who are making millions every year from soppy idiots, good luck to them. Its more the day itself that annoys me, like it is telling me (or worse ordering me) to show affection to the person I love on that very day. No thank you very much, I do that EVERY day, I do not need to wait until February 14th to say 'I Love You,' or to buy flowers.
It is a horrible, sugary time when even hotels are at it, offering romantic breaks in tourist drenched European countries. Who falls for it? The needy and the fake, the sheep and teenagers. But the young I can understand (kind of) because they are rightly enthusiastic in their Love, and sending cards for them is an honest reflection of their emotions. However when it comes to older couples then im cynical, utterly unconvinced in fact, that this 'love' they reveal on Valentines Day is real.
Some people are even upset if their partner should forget a card! Imagine that? The absolute horror in discovering your rat of a lover has forgotten to send you a piece of flimsy cardboard with a few hearts scrawled on it. By the gods, what a wretched soul! Grounds for a break up there surely? Or at least a cold supper with spiteful remarks.
I will never understand the force which sends armies of people into gift shops, giddy with a sickly adrenaline and filled with love sonnets that on every other day they would avoid like the plague. And let me tell you as a bard who regularly pens a stanza or six, that the words in Valentine's cards are as far from poetry as a fairy is from Monday. Resist the urge to write it immediately, for every stroke of your pen makes Keats hurl in his grave.
Actually I am being as vicious as the day im whining about in that last sentence, so forgive me and compose in merry abandon until your gills be satisfied. But remember, Love is forever not just for February 14th.