Valentine's Day -- The Love Machine

ELVIS PRESLEY - "The Love Machine"
(Click pic for YouTube video)

Here's a great song for Valentine's Day, Elvis Presley from the movie Easy Come, Easy Go, doing "The Love Machine." I listened to it earlier this morning and now it's all I can think of.

In fact, I'm giddy as Scrooge after his ghostly visitors, with everyone stopping by -- the milkman and paperboy -- both perplexed as to my joy. They must think an old single guy can't be overflowing with joy on Valentine's Day, but they know not the source of my happiness ... Elvis' happiness. He's like my older, more successful brother, and if I stick with him, surely one of these gals will notice me in the shadows. "It may be Susie or Maybelline. She could be Kathy or Angeline. Let the wheel go round, round and round, try your luck right now on the Love Machine."

Beyond me and my love troubles -- and please be in prayer that my many trips around the square tonight are profitable -- I do get some measure of joy, and dare I say, satisfaction, from Elvis' work in this movie, putting the Love Machine out there for his mates in the Navy, that they might immediately get not just the girls' measurements but their phone numbers. (I pixellated all phone numbers on the off chance that they've changed since the mid-'60s.)

One great thing about the Love Machine that gets my imagination running wild is that this definitely beats the dating scene today. I see these guys on TV with their dating websites -- that one old white-haired fart -- and it makes me sick. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned nature, this person sniffing around and this person sniffing around and they happen to bump noses? Every three-legged blind dog hobbling down the street gets a date, how did the human race go so wrong? We've all had ancestors, and the world has even somehow become overpopulated, but now, suddenly, we're such wallflowers we need to go through a thousand computer profiles? Gimme a break.

You say, "Yeah, but what about you driving around the square, tonight of all nights?" OK, fair point, but in my defense, I'm old, wasting away, with bad hair, bad teeth, and conversationally-challenged, the whole bit. You won't believe what I did, though, just yesterday. Knowing Valentine's Day was here, I went out and bought $218 worth of new clothes, true story. But while there, trying on one of the shirts, I caught a glimpse of the back of my head in a three-way mirror, OK? How horrendous! My bald spot's grown! Not only that, the tangle of wild hair around it makes it look like a clearing in the jungle. Big enough to set down a small plane but not big enough for a settlement. That's why I'm so down on my chances.

But all hope isn't lost yet. The Elvis video's great, because it presents a definite alternative to websites. You get the cards and information from many women, put them on a wheel of fortune, and spin it. Take down the number and you're off. It's social media without the computer! They've apparently all agreed to this system, so when you come calling -- if you've got $218 in new shirts and pants and have trimmed your jungle -- they're gonna be up for it. Certainly if you happen to be Elvis himself, or one of his good-looking Navy brothers, it shouldn't be any problem.

Maybe I will try a few of these phone numbers. This movie was made around '66 or '67. If these gals were around 22 then, that'd make them only 70-something now. Heh heh, this is gonna work. I'm only 62, which would be a good match for a 70-year-old lady. So screw the square, tonight I'm spinning the wheel!

Valentine's Day -- My Date's Heartbeat

Note: It's Valentine's Day, so we're celebrating LOVE and all the accoutrements that go with it, including, between the lines, a dash of sex. It's great to "couple," however you do it, whether together in the flesh or in some other sense. I've had a few dates lately. She and I went out for our Valentine's Day date last night, to avoid the rush -- the crush of people -- on Valentine's Day itself.

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Remember a few weeks ago I said I had a couple dates? Well, guess what: It's true, lightning can strike in the same spot twice! We had another one.

The difference between this date and the others is that we know each other so much better. We have exchanged calls, texts, and Facebook statuses. I'm pretty well up to snuff on her love of funny cat videos and miniature horses. I appreciate the psychology behind liking miniature horses.

This time, again, we came together over dinner, for Valentine's Day. I did the traditional thing, which is paying for her meal. No dutch treat for me. I'm old-fashioned like that. My dad probably did it before he and mom were married, even though, as I understand it, he was something of a pauper.

Later, without getting into too much of the nitty-gritty details, I found myself in a position of resting my head on her chest, just under her chin. By resting my head, I mean sideways, definitely not my face directly buried in her chest. It was a touching moment, right out of the old song, "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child." Which, after all, I am.

And she seemed comfortable with it. I was comfortable. It gave me a lot to think about, as you can imagine, about proximity and what it could all lead to. Of which, speaking of comfort, I'm not comfortable saying too much.

Then I started thinking, "I can hear her heartbeat." Thumpa-thumpa -- thumpa-thumpa, etc. It really did something to my thought processes, giving me the thought, "Good grief, this is a living other ... blood is flowing ... each cell is being nourished," and other things along those lines.

Then the more I thought the sillier I felt. Of course her heart's beating! There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's just you don't hear it that often. I kept toying with the idea. She might've thought I was lingering a bit too long, but what could I do, being a motherless child and all? Who knows her secret thoughts, probably something about nurturing and me being clingy?

My silly thoughts went something like this: Hearts beating, hasn't it been done to death? All these years the same thing, we haven't risen above it. Even though they've done marvelous things with artificial hearts, they still haven't got one to sound as lifelike as this, I presume. I keyed in on how regular it was. She wasn't varying much from the same old thumpa-thumpa you think of as the heartbeat's basic stereotype. How exciting is it having me attached to her breasts, in that sideways manner of speaking? Obviously not too exciting... she had the same beat-beat regularity...

Continuing this lovely reverie, I noted to myself, Aren't heartbeats these days almost passé? We've denied so long that we're living things -- not willing to use a bathroom if another human soul is within 50 feet -- both because of the well-known reluctance to pass waste in public as well as the fear of being sexually attacked by truck drivers in the area -- why, at the end of it all, is a heartbeat allowable?

This woman is mortal! I exclaimed with my inner silent voice. Not the goddess I imagined. Someday, although God forbid, her heart will be stilled. And if we proceed down this path, I might be there, whether it's 10 years or 30 years later, when it happens. What will I do? What should I do? CPR? How am I to know if this mortal machine can be repaired either by medicine or mechanic?

I felt my own heartbeat quicken its pace, making me no more innocent than she. When a thought like that hits you -- you know as well as I -- it's a real bastard to shake.

Is It Strange For True Love To Be So Young?

I've got an old record -- and of course you can find it on YouTube -- by Tony Bellus, called "Robbin' the Cradle." It always strikes me as fairly lascivious although it's an entertaining record with nice echo. But the main theme is, "They say I'm robbin' the cradle, little darling ... Is it strange for true love to be so young?" We might say, Well, Tony, it all depends, how young are you talkin'?

It used to be -- sometime between the ancient Greeks and the 1950s -- that the field of "love" was wide open. Then we developed a few more morals and really cracked down on these sorts of activities. That and dating first cousins. Although I used to have some distant cousins who got together and they never had any problems. Both were blind as well as three or four of their kids. But that was it.

The ancient Greeks, I'm not 100% sure what they were up to. But I am sure that's why you never see an ancient Greek living within 2,000 feet of a school. Whatever it was, their lovers hadn't graduated yet and gone on to college. But that was when the human race itself was young, and they were still feeling their way toward a modern standard of right and wrong. It's like that in most societies; you have to run through every option before you winnow them down to the right ones. Like slavery, we look at it today as a big duh.

Because today we know the difference between right and wrong. At Walmart you have to show ID if you look under 40. They overcompensate just to be on the safe side. The corollary when it comes to dating is, If she doesn't look 40, she might be 17. We know the difference between right and wrong! And woe to those who don't! Yes, I'm looking at you, the occasional bad apple teacher I read about at Huffington Post! It's not love, folks, it's sick. There's an interesting thought: You bring a juicy apple to the teacher, but what if the teacher himself (or herself) is a bad apple!

And with that, let me wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day. May all your love be completely kosher.

The Valentine's Flower Racket Morticians Run

I'm getting the word out there early on something I suspect, way before Valentine's Day, because I'm hoping to get widespread attention on this matter. I'd call it something of a scam. At least that's my suspicion, and I've always had a pretty good success rate in these things. At the very least it should be investigated, and when found to be true, be exposed, shut down, and left dead in its tracks. Prosecute!

My suspicion -- and I'm pretty sure it's more than that, it's something factual -- is that there's a huge racket being run by unscrupulous morticians. The racket goes something like this: Starting around October or November, they start "syphoning off" flowers from their funerals, then keep them in cold storage till just before Valentine's Day. Then they are sold everywhere, like to florists looking for something cheap to help their profit margin.

The big problem as I see it is that those flowers were purchased by well-meaning families and aggrieved loved ones, meant solely to honor the dead. They weren't meant to go from hand to hand, then on some black market, only to end up, maybe purchased by the same people as tokens of love on Valentine's Day! Of course the flowers are the property of the original purchasers, whose intent was that they would make festive a memorial service, then the grave-site.

You know what I should do? I ought to go nosing around a funeral home. I could show up during a funeral, then slip into the back room and watch through the curtains. While everyone else's eyes are bleary from tears, I'm wide-eyed and alert. I can see the flowers, what all there is. Then as the mourners file out, I watch for the morticians to start skimming. Plus, I'm listening. "This flower looks great, this one will fetch a pretty penny, I might keep this one for myself," etc. The wife, normally upstairs doing bookkeeping, is the go-between, helping stash away the flowers before anyone notices.

Or, my other plan might be to show up at a funeral home -- have some business cards printed, "Floral Wholesaler" -- and present myself to the mortician. Naturally, I'm looking to cut a deal. The guy's nervous, he hasn't seen me before. But obviously I know more about the scam than the average guy. And I'm flipping a coin. His denials won't hold up, because I'll keep pressing him, telling him, "You either play ball or they'll be buying flowers for your funeral, and I mean full price!" I honestly can play hardball, especially if my sense of justice is riled up, as it is on this issue.

I love the above graphic. I think it really drives the point home. Look at the expression of professional grief on the schmuck's face. It's Valentine's Day, and he's portrayed handing out flowers to sexy women in their underwear, you'd think he could manage a smile. But no, he's a professional frowner, looking a lot like an underpaid, unappreciated butler, so even naked ladies don't move him. Then we have the women themselves. They're not the least bit suspicious why a frowning mortician would be handing them a flower. They're just gung ho for flowers, they don't care where they come from!

But I care. This is the honest to God truth: In the last year I have personally sent two big floral arrangements to people's funerals. You ever do that? It costs a fortune. I bet they were $60 apiece. The last thing I want is to have these damned morticians -- very unethical -- reselling them on Valentine's Day. To me, that's simply wrong.

The New Valentine's Day -- Adolf Hitler's Birthday

If you like Valentine's Day on February 14, enjoy it while you can. Because I see a day coming -- and the way the world is going, with lots of hatred, etc. -- when everything might change!

The problem, like I said, is hatred and love together. They're getting mixed up. Or maybe it's always been that way, but people have been too dishonest to say so. They certainly don't love one another. They don't even like one another. It's sad but unfortunately very true. Not everyone, but many.

OK, Valentine's Day, Febuary 14, is a day for telling your supposed love one how you really feel. But, according to the new honesty, you might say, "I really don't love you. It's all been a sham." It's harsh, I agree, but the advantage of saying it on Valentine's Day is that the general spirit of the day, a day of love, cushions the blow. She or he thinks, Maybe it's a fluke, maybe it's a joke. But, no, it's no joke, as you reiterate the negative sentiment, with finally a torrent of hate-filled invective pouring forth from your mouth, by now a non-stop stream of poison.

You can see what would happen if enough people did that -- and they're aching to, for sure. It wouldn't take long until the cushioning effect in general was worn away, because the day would be known for so many break-ups. By then, the spirit of the day would have changed entirely. It would become a day known for domestic crimes, murders, harshness, people flipping each other the finger, and so forth. If it happens it will give the phrase "St. Valentine's Day Massacre" a whole new meaning!

Eventually, then, the day being completely ruined for love and becoming a day representing total hate, those who still want a day for love will cast wide (and fervently) for another day. But what other day is there? They're all basically occupied by something, and you can't have too many holidays right in a row. You need a buffer space so each holiday can have its own niche. Certainly the adherents of other holidays won't want to yield to the orphaned idea of a day of love. Christmas? Arbor Day? Columbus Day? Never! So there will be troubles all the way around.

Then someone will think, what about Hitler's birthday? That's a date, April 20, that's long been more or less kicked off the calendar. I know when the day comes around, there's a lot of hushed tones. Everyone goes, "It's Hitler's birthday, damn it!" No one calls in sick because they want an appointment with the many therapists out in force that day, counseling those who have terrible issues with Hitler. So they decide, Why not rehabilitate Hitler's birthday? It's not good for anything anyway. We could have Valentine's Day then!

In fact, it's perfect! It's long been known for the hatred of its namesake! Why not claim it as the day of love, and completely turn it around? With the hearts and candies and everything that we used to associate with Feb. 14 simply transferred over. I know, it's close to when Easter sometimes is. But Easter, being a nomadic holiday, is always going to be in the way until it finally settles on when it wants to be.

So that's it. That's the future. It sucks, yes, to have to change. If everyone decides to keep Valentine's Day a day for love -- and drop the honesty business -- then maybe we can avert this alternate future. But if you actually do feel like pouring out your true feelings -- I hate you, darling -- then just know we have a fallback date for the true lovers.

Now it's known as Hitler's birthday -- BOO! -- but it wouldn't take much to make it a day of love!