There’s always something to howl about

For the Cosmic Record

When presented with an ultimatum my first inclination has always been to go for the ‘or else’  end of the proposition— a defiant tendency that was pointed out  to me by more than a few black-hooded figures in charge of my early catechism. This probably explains  the abnormally high pain threshold I lug around to this very day. (Go ahead,  smack me across the knuckles with a ruler the next time we’re doing math together and see for yourself  how little I seem to care.)  I’m convinced this emotional dereliction has to something do with a mutated gene strand that skipped a few low risk taking generations in my inherent DNA.  Clearly, I was breech born under a bad moon.  I am a Virgo, they say,  but not by much.

In the late 1960s, when the Age of Aquarius was recruiting the deflowered masses of my wayward generation, I found myself stalled,  hesitant to beam up to the mothership.  Manned with my own back alley (hearsay, to be sure)  knowledge of that dirtiest of deeds,  I actually did the arithmetic and concluded that  my parents must have lost the rhythm on, or around,  Thanksgiving Dinner, 1955.  Born in the late afternoon on August 23rd  the following leap year (and exactly three complete trimesters to the dinner bell hour later), I concluded that  had my mother only pushed a little harder during labor,  I could  have been a Leo.  But then again, if everyone hadn’t started drinking Cold Duck in the morning exactly nine months earlier, I probably wouldn’t have been…. at all.

So hence, I mentally celebrate—in my sick,  sick head—two birthdays every year:  The day of my most  probable, mathematically correct Conception (Thanksgiving dinner, badda-bing),  and…. August 23rd, that so-called celestial cusp I barely missed by some late breaking water.  When someone asks me what astrological  ‘sign’ I am,  I simply spew out  my theory as posed above… and they usually go away.  It’s my own ultimatum of  sorts,  I suppose, to anyone who tries to get too close.  After all, I did come out feet first and tend to veer a little to  the left.  We breech babies are like that—a  bit contrary,  I am told.

So dear friends, enjoy my Conception-Day tomorrow and to those of you born on October 1st …. Happy New Years! (Do the math.)



9 Comments so far

  1. Thomas Johnson November 25th, 2009 8:11 pm

    Born 11/11 I suppose that makes me a Valentine’s Day Massacre?

  2. Ken brand November 26th, 2009 6:51 am

    I lift my gleaming glass, brimming with “Cold Duck”, cheers to you and yours G.

    PS. “Cold Duck” = awesome wordsmithing.

  3. Geno Petro November 26th, 2009 11:25 am

    Cheers KB!

    TJ…Im afraid that is a yes.


  4. Don Reedy November 26th, 2009 12:15 pm

    You now have me very ill at ease with my own conception/birthday, Geno.

    August 29 is the day I arrived at 2 a.m. EST. As I tell everyone who gets snared in my babbling on web, “I was born in the hospital because I wanted to be near my mother.”

    But now, you and this damned “conception thing” have me perplexed. For, as you will soon see, unlike having a neat 9 months between a major holiday and popping out, I now find that my “conception” day was (using your date as the gold standard) six days prior to Thanksgiving. That would be well and good were it not for the fact that Thanksgiving falls on different days and dates each year.

    So, here are my options for my conception day:

    November 18th

    Mickey Mouse’s Birthday
    Created in 1928.

    William Tell Day
    William Tell shoots an apple off his son’s head in 1315.

    November 19th

    Gettysburg Address Delivered
    Made in 1863 by President Lincoln.

    All of these seem to fit me, and now have me fit to be tied as to which I should adopt.


  5. Geno Petro November 26th, 2009 1:06 pm

    Mr Reedy,

    Clearly your case is unique. I suggest narrowing your ‘C’ date down to a specific hour and see what late great thinker on Earth happened to kick the bucket at the exact same instance as… well, you know what I mean.

    Yours is clearly a Before/After Life thing.

    No need to thank me,


  6. Sean Purcell November 27th, 2009 4:29 pm

    Interesting Geno,

    I googled this site and put my birthday in to discover when I was conceived. No special holidays, but apparently I was conceived AND born on a Friday. That explains a lot.

    BTW, I share my birthday with Big Bird. That explains the rest.

  7. Geno Petro November 29th, 2009 8:12 am

    yeah sean…and you still got an ivy league education!

  8. Eric Blackwell November 30th, 2009 12:09 am

    Heh…Sean, I checked the site and I was born and conceived on a Friday as well. Go figure.

    The only people of note that I share a birthday with are Pete Sampras and Cecil B Demille.

    @Geno – The world is glad for your birthday, Cold Duck and your conception day as well (grin) The world is a much better place with you here.



  9. leanne finlay November 30th, 2009 12:50 am

    You are the first Leo wanna be I’ve ever known. Even if it’s just online.

    August 17th. Smack dab Leo. Leo rising too, whatever that means.