Just a love machine

You remember this, right?

When we were kids, we used to buy the big 24-pack of Valentine’s day cards (or rather, our mothers used to buy them for us), and we’d pass them out at random to everyone in the class.

You know the ones I’m talking about. They came perforated, four to a sheet, in a variety of cartoons; Peanuts was a staple, but there was also Pound Puppies, etc. Sometimes you’d even find G.I. Joe, but your mother wouldn’t let you buy that one because it was too cool and Valentine’s day isn’t cool.

And then your teacher would make you give them out to everyone. Everyone. Which was a weird time, because while you didn’t really want to give them to the opposite sex, if you were a guy (and I was. Still am, come to that.) you sensed there was something even weirder about giving them to other guys*.

And in this manner, you’d learn about love: that it’s traded in little slips of paper.

I wonder what would happen we tried this as adults? Just walk onto the street and start handing out My Little Pony valentine cards to random people?

Try it; let me know how that comes out.

*Unless, of course, you were gay. In which case, I imagine V-Day was really awkward.