In the immortal words of perennial pop soothsayer Peter Wolf, he of the J. Geils Band, well, "Love Stinks." Yeah, you can have your Benatar "Battlefields" or your Crackhead Houston's "I Will Always Love You." But come Valentine's Day -- which has come, in case you've dropped your life like a box of chocolates -- it's so much more fun to rue the day you ever decided that, um, hey, maybe I'm incomplete without the intrusive noodlings of my polar opposite. And, um, hey, maybe life would be better if I just completely sold my soul to the idea that two, quantitatively, is better than one.
Color me bitter, because that is my favorite shade, but love to me seems a bit like the top of a twisty-turvy ice cream cone, inevitably melting into amorphous sludge and sticky fingers while you wonder just what those two dollars of calories are going to do for your sex life in the long run.
Well, in the interest of of fortifying the philosophical with the flippant -- because if there's anything I'm good at beyond melting twisty-turvy ice cream cones, that's about it -- I've Googled my life away in the hopes of finding the infinite wisdom of both the good and the evil as they've been quoted by the global press. This way, you see, I don't have to interview anybody, melt any ice cream cones or even put down my drink. Here, then, is a greatest hits of falsified bliss from the parliament of pop culture -- and a few real people for good measure:
"The best smell in the world is that man that you love," stank Jennifer Aniston, flipping her streaked hair and feigning tears at the end of the most boring television show ever.
Charmingly, her million-dollar boy-bracelet offered his own take on the olfactory pleasures of wedded bliss.
"Being married means I can `break wind` and eat ice cream in bed," whiffed Brad Pitt. We're only assuming that the bracketed "break wind" reference is some sort of sailing metaphor, but then again, it's really hard to sail in bed. The sheets help, though.
"Sometimes I think `my husband` is so amazing that I don't know why he's with me. I don't know whether I'm good enough. But if I make him happy, then I'm everything I want to be," fat-lipped Angelina Jolie. Again, the brackets are the real story, as, last I heard, charmless ex Billy Bob Thornton had been washed out of her hair, leaving unseemly vials of necklaced blood for drunken eBay joke purposes.
More realistic, although altogether less attractive, rubber-faced Jim Carrey offered these stay-sweet yearbook musings on the great poetic act of co-dependence.
"I really want to love somebody. I do. I just don't know if it's possible forever and ever."
Carrey, however, is too much to handle. Nobody really likes him. He's Steve Martin without any of that pesky resonance. But "The Cable Guy" was a really good movie. No, no it wasn't.
Already ready already for a TV movie about her messy hair and messier stumbles out of seedy bars, Tara Reid must have burped before coming up with her lovelorn revelation. She's perfect, you know. And, well, I want to be her.
"I know this sounds ridiculous but I like guys with love handles," she grips for my sides, with all due futility. "I hate a washboard stomach -- that does not turn me on."
Similarly blond, and probably as well known for her exploits that are best crushed up and inhaled through the nose, pointless heiress Drew Barrymore goes all gold-digger-salt-'n'-pepper for her out-of-context quote on the lustier side of love. All the way to pseudo-journalistic TV hosts, even. God love her.
"I think I have a love for TV hosts. I can't help it," she lifts her blouse. "Ted Koppel was my first crush when I was 3. Then I was in love with David Letterman. He's my sweetheart. But now I've got my Tom." Not anymore. He only has one ball.
Chicken of the Sea Jessica Simpson pulls the standard Spiegel page-flipping bullshit in her reflections on the love search that brought her Nick Lachey, the potentially gay knight in fading career. A girl of few words, this one. Thank God.
"I was like, 'I want that one!''' she chewed tuna.
Chewing multiple tins of tuna -- but only in his free time, not ruining another Jackson career -- Justin Timberlake seems comfortable in his Justified perfection. And a little like the annoying stalker who had a locker next to you but smelled like he walked to school.
"Every relationship I've been in, I've overwhelmed the girl. They just can't handle all the love." Oh, love. That's what they're calling it these days. God I hope his cock is big, otherwise we've all been had.
Here's what I've always wanted to do: Pull somebody completely out of context into my fiberglass columnar water feature and try to make it make some sense. So here goes. Ladies and gentlemen, lock up your doorknobs: I've got Helen Keller.
"Relationships are like Rome: Difficult to start out, incredible during the prosperity of the 'Golden Age', and unbearable during the fall. Then, a new kingdom will come along and the whole process will repeat itself until you come across a kingdom like Egypt ... that thrives and continues to flourish. This kingdom will become your best friend, your soul mate, and your love."
Boring. Boring. Boring. Then again, she had bigger problems than throwing her legs apart in search of self-justification. A moment of silence, then.
OK, snap out of it. For my last search, I went to the funniest man in the world. Ugly, but funny. I hope Matt Groening's "Simpsons" (not to mention the playful gay "Life in Hell") will go down as the only justification for our failed culture when generations to come have to go to social studies classes. And I love him, mostly because he doesn't love himself.
"Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun," Groening both dances and shoots.
And me, I do a shot.
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