This would be the wimp liberal equivalent of Cute Blonde Teen Possibly Abducted.
I used to have a friend in a cozy bedroom suburb of Chicago who used to say he listened to the classical music station (WFMT - best ever, probably still) in the morning while he shaved because it was so much more soothing than listening to the traffic reports. Plus, he didn't want to miss Beethoven's birthday.
The only birthday I care anything about (except my own) is Ghengis Khan's. The nice thing about Ghengis Khan's birthday is nobody knows what day it was, so you can celebrate it any day you need a little lift. (The bad thing is you can still only do it once a year so you have to be sure you won't need an even bigger lift later. Once it's gone, it's gone. If I said I usually wind up celebrating it on New Years Eve you'd think I was a pessimist, wouldn't you.)
People who may expect birthday cards from me have, over the years, become accustomed to this fact.
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