To me, it's the human race's ultimate "participation trophy" copout. Hooray, everybody has one -- aren't you special. Listen, if you're a reasonably cool individual or at least not a completely insufferable dick, then other people are going to recognize and behave accordingly on a day-to-day basis throughout the year. It's sad that our culture effectively goads people into this bit of put-upon fakery. There's nothing more exhausting that trying to pretend to be excited about the coincidental nature of some dipshit in your life having been born on this day exactly x number of years ago. Cake is for fucking children's parties, and cards are for weddings (but only as a straight-cash-homey delivery system, and only at least 6 months after the actual wedding when the miserable couple has already burned thru their big-day nut).

Ergo, my birthday can go shit in a fancy top hat. Me, I'd much rather celebrate October 4th, hereafter to be known as Dick Punch Saturday. "Hey, remember that time when you were born?" Of course I don't, asshole. Frankly, it could have been any day of the year -- I wouldn't know the difference. But I'll always remember where I was on Dick Punch Saturday, and how I laughed like my 8-year-old self reading Garfield comics pretty much all day long. And that's something worth remembering and celebrating.

October 4, DP Day. Never forget.

Tags:
potpourri

Coffee spit flying..

Well played guys, well played.

Oh yeah, lets put a 6'1 240lb LB in to defend a hail mary attempt.

In that situation you load up on DB's, with verticals, who are use to playing the ball in the air.