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This Week In Weird Twitter, Volume 37

By: Rich Cromwell
11 min read

Love isn’t all you need. There’s also food, romance, and cages.

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Rich Cromwell
@rcromwell4
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Supposedly, Valentine’s Day began with one, or possibly several, saints who answered to the name Valentinus. The good saint, as the story goes, would marry those who were forbidden to marry for one reason or another. For this, as well as his Christian faith, he was imprisoned and executed.

It wasn’t until much later that he came to be associated with romantic love. At least, that’s what legend would have us believe. The truth is that scientists in the 1980s developed a time machine for the purpose of going back and killing Hitler. Alas, a representative from the greeting card industry had other plans. He hijacked their time machine, and a legend was born.

Someday, a new time machine will be built so we can go back and kill the greeting card guy who stole the first one. Until then, though, we’re stuck. So put on some Barry White and crack open some bubbly, but don’t forget to do something with the young ‘uns first.


Unless you’ve got this going on, in which case you’ll need something stronger than a crate.


As we saw above, they come home that way anyways, so go for it.


Even if you don’t address them as Satan, there are other ways to make their parents hate you.


These candies are chalky and unpleasant, plus this concept of “wuv” confuses and infuriates me.


If you don’t have a dog crate and really love your wife, do this. You’ll be rewarded later.


But what about the chill, Val? You have to include “and chill.”


Hospitals definitely have ice chips, so they’ve got the chill, but do they even have Netflix?


It’s not just about married people. It’s also about those still in the courtship phase.


So, fellas, don’t forget to sweep her off her feet.


Or let her sweep you off yours.


This sounds pretty good, too.


But then you arrive here.


You should’ve gone to Jared, man.


You, too.


You ladies don’t exactly make it easy on us.


If you find yourself alone on the dread holiday, put your phone away.


Or go out and party instead.


If you’re not feeling like drunk texting or partying, just avoid the subject.


With flowers you bought at a gas station.


Don’t believe her when she says this. Plus, the end results would be boring, like a Stepford Wife.


I fail to see what’s wrong with this logic, other than he didn’t give it as a gift.


When the magic is gone, every word a knife.


I forgot most other things marked by dates, too, but I’m an overachiever.


That is why this is also the title of my memoir.


This is how I feel about whiskey, but I usually relent.


Moving on. Valentine’s Day isn’t the only time you get to hope your wildest dreams will be fulfilled.


Small dreams, too.


That’s why they just whisper about it instead of actually cutting us. Usually.


As I said, usually.


On the opposite end of the spectrum from telling them to calm down is being too nice.


The song was about someone.


But who is this tweet about? Is it about me? Now I’m going to question every retweet.


This isn’t a joke.


Nor is this. It’s sound advice.


If I can ever stop procrastinating, I’ll be the exception that proves the rule.


Technically, it’s already allowed, it just comes with consequences.


Love is a many-splendored thing.


Why do we speak so poorly of the abyss? I’m a fan.


And what did the abyss say back?


This alternate reality is why it’s probably better that the greeting card guys stole it.


To be fair, they also resumed production of high-performance cars. They started making Argentinians, though.


Uhhh, goodnight, honey. Don’t take it personally that I’m locking the door.


And then the kid said…


This is an excellent superpower.


Although this superpower is excellent, too.


Combine the previous two superpowers with this, and you’ll become unstoppable.


When all is said and done, go out shaken, not stirred.


Where were you one tweet ago?


And with that, he was gone.


Enjoy Love Day, you magical weirdos. May it be filled with lots of splendor and excitement. Or nothing. Or somewhere in between, depending on your level of commitment. Also, even if it is a made-up holiday, remember that everyone is lying. We all want diamonds and roses and maybe baby hedgehogs or at least some peace and quiet.

Richard Cromwell is a writer and senior contributor at The Federalist. He lives in Northwest Arkansas with his wife, three daughters, and two crazy dogs. Co-host of the podcast Coffee & Cochon, you can find him on Facebook and Twitter, though you should probably avoid using social media.

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