"April is {not} the cruellest month"

   Alas, T.S. Eliot had it wrong because February is in fact the cruellest {apparently English spelling} month and despite that it is the shortest one on the calendar doesn't save it. (and March 3rd sounds so much better than the actual February 31st — just how depressing would that be?)
  The disheartening month is cold, it's windy, it is the absolute dead of winter and has that absurd Valentine's Day manufactured right in the middle of it so if dudes aren't feeling that February funk nearly deep enough they have to come up with something romantic (but not fattening) and inventive and original to prove their undying, everlasting love for their woman — or they are just not trying hard enough. Well ... a picnic is out, as would be planning any romantic romp in anything other than a snowmobile suit.
   I am not a person of black heritage, but if I were I would be a little pissed that the month selected to celebrate my roots would be the worst weather month of the year, despite that fact that it contains some historical milestones (you could find historical turning points in any month: Juneteenth, anyone?).
   No, true joy in February can only be found in Arizona and Florida where spring training begins, or in Lima, Ohio, where the Kewpee burger operations offer up Februcherry pie to offset the interminable slate of sunless days.