Everybody in existence will have a birthday this year.
2005 is not unique in this. Last year was similar, if not the same. 6 billion something birthdays. Think of it. All those candles.
1,303,654,784 birthdays will occur in China, though not on the dates we think they will of course because January is February and December is January and it's all 4207 and 2005 is not the year of our Lord but the very own year of the Cock, which may be tantamount to the same thing. What have I said? Moichido's improbable Catholic readership may now be going crazy, although a cursory check of recent headlines intimates that the Holy See probably already has. So much for infallibility.

And what of Christmas Island? An oft overlooked place in this world upon which live only slightly more people to have birthdays then there are year days available to have them. Pop. 373. And are birthdays so popular in a location where it's arguably Christmas everyday? Who knows? Not me.
Palau, the Cayman Isles, Lietchenstein, yes even Lietchenstein; birthdays to celebrate all. So why is mine important?

It's not.

I've had twenty-eight birthdays before and hardly celebrated any of them. Each another year closer to death, whenever that may be. Understand that this lack of birthday enthusiasm is not a faith based thing, it's personal. What did I do worthy of celebration? I just sit on my arse and allow the year to float around me, like a lift/elevator (hello America!) that goes nowhere whilst the building moves around it. So. Friday's going to be much the same as any other day, except my mother may call and say something about my 'making her feel old' but no 'Happy Birthdays!', because we don't do that. It would embarrass me if we did. No. I want very little.

But please; let there be drink and let there be friends and let there be some laughing too. And if the reason for any particular gathering is my rapidly approaching thirtydom then let it not be uttered. Instead, lets drink to my aforementioned mother and all the Mothers of the world. After all, she - my mother - did all the hard work - pushing and grunting (I imagine - my sole reference being hospital dramas) and in despicable pain during the hours before lunch on Wednesday 昭和５１年２月２５日.