When light is observed

it becomes waves

illuminating and definitive

   When the Earth shifts

it becomes waves

tearing and indiscriminate

   When love combines

it becomes waves

peerless and infinite

Thou shalt not kill.

This is from the Holy Bible. It's one of the ten commandments allegedly given to the prophet, Moses, straight from God. It doesn't say:

Thou shalt not kill. Well, unless it's for your country. Oh, or if you're hungry.

God, not being Schizophrenic, kept it simple, as I can only imagine infinite intelligence would.

As clear and succinct as God was; people just weren't getting it. So he sent his son—Jewish carpenter, public speaker extraordinaire, savior—Jesus Christ.

Jesus told many parables and performed countless miracles, wowing crowds across the Middle East. Still, the Shepherd, then as now, and as his father before him, eventually discovered that he was playing to the cheap seats. His impeccable eloquence and master storytelling techniques weren't working. The sheep were confused.

So Jesus prayed. He prayed hard. And then it hit him. How could he have missed something so simple?

He gathered the masses and proclaimed:

Love one another.

That's it. "By this shall men know ye are my disciples: if ye have loved one to another."

Jesus went so far as to call it "The New Commandment." In other words, "Forget about the other ten—this new commandment says it all." He used his gift for brevity to cut the number of commandments down by 90% in one fell swoop.

How we got from "love one another" to "friendly fire"; from "turn the other cheek" to "holy war"; from "love thy neighbor as thyself" to "gay bashing"; and from "thou shalt not kill" to "Veal Parmesan"—is a mystery.

I think Jesus was right on with the whole "love one another" bit, still I'm not Christian. There are myriad others that have said the same thing throughout the ages. Why play favorites?

The word of the year is love. It's simple. It's cliché. It's the answer to every question.

Dear Saint Valentine, I know, I know—this is hard to read while spinning in your grave. First of all, no one really knows anything about you—whether you were just one person, or series of martyrs—it's a mystery to us all. I Wikipedia'd you and and everything. I just wanted to write a quick note to thank you for letting us exploit your name. As you are aware, we use it to sell lingerie, diamonds and candy. We use it to sell reservations at fancy (or not so much) restaurants. We use your name to sell love—one day a year. (Don't get me wrong, I love lingerie and chocolate—I'm wearing both at the time of this writing.) It's such a great name: Valentine. It just rolls off the tongue. Couldn't it be Valentine's Life? Couldn't we just make each other cute little cards all the time? Couldn't we just have a romantic evening on a Thursday or Tuesday? It is a little sad that your day, as beautiful as it is, serves more to let us off the hook for the other 364 days of the year. If this Valentine's Life deal pulls through, we could still celebrate February 14th with an UnValentine's Day, in which our day jobs and TV can be our priorities. Sincerely, Brian