angry couple sold separately

It's March. The only reason I know this is because yesterday, when I went to check the time on my cell phone, March abruptly appeared on my phone's screen saver. Which just so happens to be a calendar. Which is no mistake, as I have yet to get a calendar for 2005. And I didn't realize that it was leap year. But I didn't care about any of that. I gasped and quickly snapped my phone shut, that is, tried to make March go away (rudely confronted by March as I was) as March was such a shock to my eyes. Because, according to my cell phone, March is quite a different story than February. And my cell phone, or more specifically, Samsung, definitely wanted me to understand that February is NOT to be confused with March by employing a not so subtle method of surprise via sudden and contrasting images. That moment (that first moment of March, when a Samsung customer with this particular screen saver first becomes aware that it is March, NOT February) is so shocking that it's reasonable to assume that such a Samsung customer will never manage to surpress the memory. And I believe that that was Samsung's objective. Because there is no other explanation.

Let there be no misunderstanding: March. It's not the same as February.

Consider last month. February. February's screen saver was a horribly desolate snow scene. February. Innocent enough. Probably not intended to inspire suicide, so much as something just short of suicide. Like an especially debilitating case of seasonal disorder. Malaise. Certainly the Blahs. Because a grittier, more in your face look at February does not exist in any other cell phone that I've ever seen. The foreground of the photo was filled mainly by a terrifying tree with it's bare branches reaching out into the bitter cold like so many skeleton's fingers. And, save for one decaying leaf, which remarkably had managed to hang on presumably since Autumn, there was no reason to believe it will ever again be Spring for this tree. The rest was just a lot of swirling snow against a twilight sky. That moment just before the sun goes down. Once and for all. Forever. Grim, indeed. So, as cell phone screen savers go, Samsung must have felt, after many a meeting and lots of deliberation, that this haunting, relentlessly unforgiving portrait of February was the way to go. Their gift to us, you might say.

And believe me, I said, thank you, Samsung each and every day. I did.

But now suddenly it's March. Not just March, but March. Samsung's March. Just twenty-eight days later, and I guess it's all going to be ok, and you can put away your gun, because according to my cell phone, March is fabulous. It's 75 degrees warmer than it was yesterday, and all of a sudden there is no limit to what you can do with your life and imagination. I mean, if I'm to believe what my cell phone is suggesting, March brings a profusion of red tulips. Millions of tulips. A seemingly endless field of flowers. On a fantastically sunny day. Fantastically. Frighteningly sunny. It's an overwhelmingly happy scene. There's spinning. Mania. Love is everywhere. You've been assigned a muse. Inspiration grows on trees. Everything is funny. And you are free. Yes. And the sky is sapphire blue with only just a few wisps of clouds. Wait. Don't worry. Those aren't really clouds. That's sky writing. An airplane has written crazy cryptic messages across the sky just for us to read. Just for us. Down here. On Earth. Incredible.

So, as you can imagine, I was shaken.

But then I noticed something. When I looked at this scene a little more closely, I saw in the background what can only be identified as an angry Asian couple. They were way in the background of this image, almost imperceptibly hovering in the margin. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and the pixels were killing me, but from what I can glean about this couple, he seems to be accusing her of something. And her head is turned defensively, as if in reflex. And she's wearing pink. I imagine she had no idea that morning, when she put on that dress, that it would always from that day forward be thought of as the breakup dress. My guess is that the sudden field of tulips proved to be too much pressure for this couple. This part of the image is sort of airbrushed out. Sort of. But not quite. And Samsung thought no one would notice.

..thank you, Samsung.