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Monday, July 25, 2005

"You say it's your birthday/ Well it's my birthday too--yeah" 

"...We're gonna have a good time."

I don't know what Louise Brown is up to but I'm celebrating by doing a bit of laundry, some dancing (because the Beatles told me they'd like to see me dance), immersion setting of yarn twist, some spinning, maybe some dog beach?

Do you know those card/booklet things that tchotchke shops have for birthdays--"the year/day you were born:" stuff? Here's what mine could say:

You have been alive for four Popes. Not hard when one of those reigns was only thirty three days.

The year you were born...

Ted Bundy was caught, Son of Sam was sentenced, the Hillside Strangler terrorised Los Angeles, and the Unabomber started up.

The Sex Pistols had their last concert.

The Jonestown mass suicide.

Dan White killed Moscone and Milk (remember the "Twinkie Defense"?)

California reinstated the death penalty.



And I was sixty-two days old when my Dad helped clean up body parts from PSA 182. He wouldn't get on an airplane for over ten years after that.


Yes, I was the Baby of Doom.

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