The Origins of Valentine’s Day
Far from being a Hallmark holiday, or relating to the death of some guy by some tigers or something, Valentine’s Day has a noble history.
Deep in the Mines of Moria, during the splendour of the Second Age, The dwarves carved out enough mithril to forge the Soup Tin of Gor Daleth. This Soup Tin, it was said, when soup was pored forth from it, caused an enchantment. The drinker of the soup would be overcome by a warm fuzzy feeling, such that he might feel a compulsion to make a home with a fair maiden, and begin a family.
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Preview of Coming Attractions: Valentine’s Rant
Starting Monday, The Correctness will bring you 7 days of brief posts on how much I hate Valentine’s day.
Look forward to such comments as “Commercialism aside, Valentine’s Day also sucks because love does not exist”.
Zing! Pow! Stay Tuned!
Dear Disposable Razor Companies
(Note: This is a repost of the original.)
Oh hey guys.
I was just thinking, you know what would be sweet?
How about instead of 5 blades that dull as soon as I glance at them, you concentrate on providing me 1 blade that is sharp? Or, how about instead of a lubricating strip, you provide me one blade that stays sharp? Or how about instead of a special vibrating handle, you manufacture a single blade that stays sharp?
Dear Jessica 6 of Logan’s Run:
(Note: This is a repost of the original)
Dear Jessica 6:
As the unmarried 1/3 of The Correctness, I am still seeking a Hot Spacewife to get Spacemarried to. I would also approve of a Vampirewife, or a FantasyFictionwife, but I’m mostly looking for a Hot Spacewife. Probably not a superhero wife, they always seem a bit conflicted.
While I know that you are just a character in a movie, and in real life you are Jenny Agutter, and you have had a long career as a respected professional actor, and you are in your fifties (not that 25 years is insurmountable), I would like to leave that aside for a moment.
IKEA’s Creepiest Ads Ever.
Here at the Correctness, we are concerned about the recent IKEA ad campaigns, narrated by David Hyde Pierce, in which domestic horrors are narrowly avoided with the thin, calming veneer of Ikea home furnishings. What surprised us even more were some of the rejected scripts.
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