tsuwm, in all his curr-mudgeonly ways, barks:

to everyone who suffered through another birthday this year, always remember: it's not another year older; it's another year of life wasted in a banal dance with the mundane, edging precariously close to the precipice of decay and death.

How 'bout another year of life relished in a whirling-dervish spin with the mystical, stepping provocatively into the fountainhead of renewal and life?

From the opposite side of the fence,
WorldWonder