The following can also be found in the book Chicago Stories 1996. Click here to learn more, and to download a free electronic copy.

(This is an audience participation piece. Every time the reader points to the audience, they are to say "St. Jason Day" in a voice like a bored grade-schooler.)

Okay, class, settle down... class, settle down... class... class! Okay, class, now today's March 5th, and we all know that means it's (points to audience, who says "St. Jason Day") very good, class. And, according to the National Holiday Act of 2014, I am now bound by law to spend six minutes of classtime explaining the origins of the holiday to you. What's that, Tommy? No, you're still getting homework. Anyway, here's the federally-mandated story of (points to audience, who says "St. Jason Day") very good, class.

Jason Pettus was born in St. Charles, Missouri in 1969 and lived a remarkably non-eventful childhood there. In 1994 he moved to Chicago, Illinois, home of... yes, Tommy, home of Rodmanworld. Yes, Tommy, I know you went there last year. The whole class knows you went.

Anyway, Jason was one of a growing class of males in America at that time, a class of sensitive, artistic men.

Now, class, to understand the story of (points to audience, who says "St. Jason Day") very good, class, you have to put yourself back in time to the 1990's. Everyone close their eyes. Yes, Greg, you too. Now imagine yourself in the 1990's. There are still Starbucks on every corner. President Madonna was just a singer. And kids, I know it's going to be hard to believe, but in the 1990's, women simply didn't want anything to do with sensitive artistic men who were in touch with their feelings and would be good in a relationship. No, really, Sally, it's true! Why? Well, class, there are certain points in American history that can only be explained by saying that it was the expected behavior at the time. Even though we see these things as bad now, Americans at the time saw nothing wrong with it. Like... slavery. Or pregnant women smoking. Or... Microsoft.

Now, class, in the mid-1990's, when St. Jason was still just Jason, he was in the same boat as a lot of men at the time, which was that he simply couldn't find a date, anywhere. Women back then would repeatedly and without thought completely pass over the men that they should have been dating, the kind men, the caring men, the... good men. No, class, they would go straight over them without so much as a pleasantry and head straight to the... well, let's just call them the bad men. No, Sally, not like Greg! Greg's a good boy! Well, at least let's give him a couple years and see how he turns out.

Jason would befriend these women when their relationships would go sour, as they always would. He would hold them and let them cry and silently nod his head when the women would wail, "Why do I keep dating all these assholes?" Jason would patiently explain that they need to find men that are good, that would treat them with the respect they deserve, and they would nod their tear-streaked faces and say, "God, Jason, yes. Yes, you're exactly right." But did they heed his words? Well, as history has taught us, class... no. No, they didn't.

Well, Jason tried to keep a sense of humor about the whole thing, but he was a man, like any other, and he eventually reached his boiling point. And on March 5, 1999, Jason's 30th birthday, a date that will be marked throughout history, Jason strolled out into the middle of the intersection of Michigan Avenue and Randolph Street, delivered a short oration on the frustrations of dating, and... well, class, he set himself on fire. Yes, Tommy, he died.

Oh, Sally, no, don't cry! If it hadn't been for Jason's courageous act of bravery, we wouldn't live in the world we live in today! You see, news of Jason's death passed quickly through the city, and then the country. Women who had previously turned Jason down for a date started... rethinking the situation. They started realizing all the good, wonderful things that Jason had. They started getting filled with regret that they had missed their chance. And they decided that in honor of Jason's death, to mark the glorious act of martyrdom that he had performed, they would agree to a date with the next sensitive, artistic man who asked them out.

And, class, an amazing thing happened! Women the world over started realizing that they never had to put up with the bad men again! They discovered a literal country of men out there who worshipped the ground they walked on, who would let them pick out the CDs, who valued their opinions on subjects of the world. Not to mention a whole nation of men who made them experience things in the bedroom they had never experienced before. What's that, Tommy? Well, wait until Health class, and it'll all be explained then.

Women got hooked and never went back. Bolstered by a profound sense of self-confidence, sensitive artistic men took over Congress in the 2000 elections. Their first act, the National Genocide Act of 2001, called for the immediate death of any man ever in a fraternity... any man who ever owned a Chicago Police leather jacket... any man who was ever a bartender in Wicker Park... any man who had ever read a poem at an open mic about a prostitute falling in love with him... and any man who had ever visited the ESPN website.

Unemployment disappeared. The problem of world hunger was solved. The Chicago Transit Authority started running on time. And in the year 2005, Jason was canonized by the Catholic church. In a press statement, the current Pope, a man known only as Shappy, declared...

(Man stands up in audience and yells) "Hell, I'm dating Uma Therman now! And if that ain't a miracle, then I ain't Polish, fuckos!"

And thus, March 5 was declared (points to audience, who says "St. Jason Day") very good, class.

Well, class, our six minutes are almost up. Does anyone have any questions? Yes, Sally? Do I celebrate St. Jason Day? Well, actually... I met my wife on St. Jason Day. I was in the park reading through this book of P.G. Wodehouse stories (holds up book) when a beautiful woman approached me.

(Woman in audience stands and says) "Excuse me,"

(Jason resumes) she said,

(Woman) "Is that P.G. Wodehouse you're reading?"

(Jason) Yes, I said.

(Woman) "Ooh,"

(Jason) she said,

(Woman) "You don't know how hot I get from turn-of-the-century British satirists! Tell me more!"

We went to a coffeehouse and conversed over cappuccinos throughout the afternoon, and by that night... (he gestures to the woman, who runs up and embraces him) we were in love. (Woman continues to stand on stage, hugging Jason, giving him small kisses on the face and neck, and giggling uncontrollably. Eventually Jason murmurs "Okay, Jennifer, okay, that's fine. You can sit down now." Jennifer giggles one more time and runs back to her seat.)

Well, anyway, class, we're out of time. Now, if you'll get out your history books, please turn to Chapter 10 -- "The Olson Twins, Voices of a Generation." Happy St. Jason Day, everyone.