Oh, what a night. Remember that song? Well, all of us who were conceived in late December, 1963, will be turning 50 years old this month. I'm one of 'em.
(If you want something a little more contemporary, try this version-)
Anyway, turning 50 is awfully anti-climactic. Forty is the age when everyone is mean to you (black stuff everywhere, and so on). At fifty, nothing much changes.
(That's all. I think an anti-climactic post is suitable for an anti-climactic birthday.)