Happy Birthday to Me!

GUYS! GUYS! GUYS! IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! Yaaaaay! Now everyone gather ’round and post an apathetic birthday messages on my Facebook wall, it’s my birthday god dammit! No, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, seriously thank you everyone for all the well wishes, it gives me a false sense of popularity that feeds my ego just long enough to make it until next year. I honestly don’t know what I would do if my self-esteem fell below it’s artificially heightened level. See now I’m sounding like an asshole again. To reiterate I am merely trying to be humorous, I would wholeheartedly thank everyone who posted on my wall, the other 200 of you can go rot in hell, I always hated you anyways.

Say Hi to Satan for me

Say Hi to Satan for me

Birthdays are kind of a weird phenomenon in our culture.  We value them so much that every freaking comedian from here to Daniel Tosh has made fun of them. Near as I can tell, there is hardly any more jokes to be made, so all I can do is lean in and steal a few jokes. It is the internet after all, joke stealing is like standard protocol or something.

Personally it seems kind of weird to me that we still celebrate birthdays. I mean back in the olden days sure it made sense. Back when people actually had to worry about things like disease, famine, and freaking TIGERS(!) surviving an entire year was actually an accomplishment. You could pat someone on the back and say, “congrats on not getting cholera” and actually mean it. Now whenever anyone says that APPERENTLY they are an asshole, even though they were just TRYING TO BE NICE.

HAHA...silly meme

HAHA…silly meme

Granted there are a few birthdays that are worth celebrating. Babies are pretty much useless sacks of crap that can’t fend for themselves, so I suppose your first few years of existence are worthy of celebration. After childhood (which ends at 10), the days of yearly birthdays are over. You can have one at 13, 16, 18 because you’re becoming a god damn adult, and 21 because booze, but after that, only on the 10’s (30, 40, 50, etc.).

That way birthdays are still a meaningful celebration, rather than a pointless excuse to eat cake, and exclaim how amazing we are. I know some people who I would be surprised to live past 30, and so I will gladly congratulate them on not dying from their own stupidity, I will not however, congratulate them on continuing to exist in a world where humans don’t regularly encounter diphtheria on a yearly basis. But because I am bound by the immutable rule of internet law, I will still wish you well on your Facebook wall.

Happy Birthday Asshole.

 

I wasn’t born on the Fourth of July, but I was born three days later, so that makes me Jesus right?

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