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St. Valentine, Chaucer, and Barry White February 14, 2013

Posted by J. in FYI, Genius.
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Today is St. Valentine’s Day! In honor of the day, I answer the question, “How does St. Valentine tie into this Hallmark Corporate Sponsored ‘holiday’?”

But I’m gonna tell it Badass Saints style. ‘Cause that’s how I roll.

Badass Saint ValentineFebruary 14

Badass Saint Valentine
February 14

 

I know what you’re wondering: how did a third-century martyr come to be remembered by cheap boxes of drugstore chocolates, sappy cards covered in glitter hearts, and bouquets of flowers from the gas station?

St. Valentine’s life is a mystery, most likely because he died in Rome in 269 (well played, God) and was not known for any heroic or super-saintly deeds. In fact, much of his history is thought to be bits of the lives of three different dudes all muddled together like some sort of hagiographical mix-tape. In fact, so little is actually known that in 1969, the Catholic Church removed St. Valentine from the calendar of observed feasts, though he remains venerated as a Saint.

Val was a bishop back in the happenin’ town of Rome, and he—as so many Badass Saints did—fell out of favor with the Emperor. Claudius wasn’t a fan of Christians to begin with, but Claudius was also a soldier, and like so many rulers before and since, he felt a burning duty to involve himself in the sex lives of his troops. Claudius believed that unmarried men made better soldiers, so he forbade his men to marry. And he did it at a time when violating “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” could get you disemboweled and your own dick fed to you on a stick.

Here he is in prison performing what appears to be a gay marriage between soldiers. (Gonna get another call from the Bishop about that little crack. You just wait and see...)

Here he is in prison performing what appears to be a gay marriage between soldiers. (Gonna get another call from the Bishop about that little crack. You just wait and see…)

Even back then, people were not going to stand for being kept from marrying the person they love, so they found ways to defy the emperor, and Bishop Valentine became the go-to guy for marrying soldiers on the sly. Of course when you’re the go-to guy for anything, word gets out, and Valentine pretty much had his dick handed to him for defying the Emperor on matters of love, marriage, and soldiering. He was beaten with clubs and rocks, and when that didn’t kill him (Badass!), he was finally beheaded. Suddenly, having to celebrate the day with a box of candy doesn’t sound so bad, does it? It’s all about perspective, man.

So that’s how St. Valentine became associated with love and marriage, though the two were never officially linked in any way until Geoffrey Chaucer got creative with his quill and connected the dots, and introduced him as a patron of courtly love. Literally, the dude made it up, and folks seemed to like it, so the tradition of showering one’s beloved with gifts on this day can be blamed on the premiere poet of the Middle Ages. Yes, Chaucer was both the Father of English Literature and the inventor of the Hallmark Holiday.

That's him. Chaucer. Sitting there with his quill just making shit up as he goes along. *snorts* Writers...

That’s him. Chaucer. Sitting there with his quill just making shit up as he goes along. *snorts* Writers…

As a side note, there’s some flimsy evidence that we celebrate St. Valentine as the Patron of Love simply because his feast day was celebrated the day before the pagan fertility celebration of Lupercalia, though that theory has been generally dismissed by scholars who study such things. And even though the Church has a long and storied tradition of playing fast and loose with pagan rites and rituals, in this case there’s no real connection between Lupercalia and the modern tradition of getting down with a box of wine and a Barry White album.

Badass.

St. Valentine’s official feast day, though no longer celebrated in the Roman Catholic Church, is on February 14, and he is the patron Saint of engaged couples, bee keepers, love, happy marriages, and the plague and is invoked against epilepsy.

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Hey, Jude! August 6, 2012

Posted by J. in Genius, Sticks and String.
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I finally finished my Badass Saint for this month’s April’s Army Charity Shop. I’ll post links to it when the shop is life. Here’s St. Jude!

Of all the Saints, the Apostles are the twelve dudes who stand head and shoulders above the rest.

 Handpicked by Jesus, they were the most motley group of losers Christendom could have imagined. Jesus would tell them things about heaven and they’d sit there slack-jawed. They questioned him at every turn. They made him explain things over and over and over. He said, “Stay awake and pray with me,” and what did they all do? Fell asleep. It’s enough to make the Son of God facepalm.

 And as soon as the shit hit the fan, the twelve scattered and hid. “Jesus of Nazareth? Dude, never heard of him.”

 But then Jesus came back and this time, he brought the Holy Spirit with him. He came to them and gave them power. He gave them gifts. He gave them faith. He gave them fucking big brass balls. And armed with this new testicular fortitude, they went out and preached the Gospel message of Christ: love one another. Be kind to one another. Treat each other the way you want to be treated and you will bring about God’s kingdom on earth.

 It also got every one of them killed in spectacular fashion.

 Judas (“Seriously, man. Call me Jude.”) was a childhood friend of Jesus and was likely a relative of his, either a cousin or a brother. He walked with Jesus in life, and after his death traveled all over Persia and Mesopotamia driving out evil spirits, working miracles, healing the sick, and telling people about his Holy Homeboy. Not everyone took kindly to that, and as so often happens when you try to convert folks who don’t want to be converted, he met his untimely end by being clubbed senseless and having his head split open, because nothing says “bugger off” like the business end of a broad ax.

 To add insult to injury, St. Jude not only got a martyr’s death, but then after death he got ignored for a long time. See, his real name is Judas. Not Iscariot. St. Jude didn’t betray Jesus, but it’s kind of like going through life named Adolf. At some point you’re just going to ask people to call you Al. Or Scooter.

 St. Jude’s feast day is celebrated on October 28, and because so many miracles have been attributed to his intercession, he has become the patron Saint of desperate situations and lost causes. When all else fails, ask St. Jude. 

Badass.

St. Jude has been meticulously rendered from his split skull to his sandals in 100% wool and stuffed with polyester fiberfill. He measures about 9 inches high without his removable felt broad ax. He wears a St. Jude medal around his neck which has been blessed by my Parish priest and may be removed and worn.

Badass Saints are OOAK art dolls and are not intended to be used as playthings.