Dearest February, you are the worst. You are so terrible. Everyone despises you. I am reticent to speak so bluntly, but it’s true. February, you are the worst.
There are twelve months in the year and unfortunately, you are one of those months. I don’t know how you got the job but I suspect bribery or even blackmail was involved. It most definitely was not based on your qualifications or skills. What are you even good for? Nothing. You are good for absolutely nothing. You are the worst.
You don’t even have the decency to have a normal amount of days. I mean, that’s just dumb. And your name is stupid. No one pronounces it correctly. Hint: It’s because everyone hates you. Who wants to enunciate that ridiculous “R” after the “B”? No one. That’s who. February, you are the worst.
You are cold. Stupidly, nastily cold. I realize there are other cold months in the year, but your cold is worse. It’s an ugly, boring, pointless cold. Most of your days are bleak affairs filled with gray skies and impossibly short daylight hours. Why are you the way you are? February, you are the worst.
When the months of the year play a game of pick-up basketball, you undoubtedly are picked last. In fact, I would wager good money on you not even being picked. One team would rather be outnumbers six to five because they hate you so much. You are the worst.
Now, in an effort to be fully honest and fair, there are a few things to your credit. The NFL’s big game happens in February. (Ugh! I hate typing your name so much. It’s so stupid!) Additionally, there are some pretty important birthdays in the month of February. (My mother and mother-in-law were both born in your month.) But, that’s it. And frankly, as important and great as those reasons are, they don’t outweigh all your nonsense and awfulness. You are the worst.
Dearest February, you are loathsome and vile. You fain innocence and frivolity yet you are filled with the very essence of cynicism and death. It’s no wonder the most repellent and abhorrent of all holidays takes place during your pointless month. You have unjustly soiled Saint Valentine’s good name with your greedy materialism. You are the worst.
What more can one say? What other proofs must I offer? As Poet laureate, Benjamin Lloyd Plunkett, so eloquently put it, February is “malevolent and dark and pretty much the worst thing ever.” Be gone, February. Take your cold, your gray, your sadness, your evil, and your despair and never, ever come back. We hate you. You are the worst.
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