Happy Birthday to Plok (Not His Real Name, Nor Is He Any Relation)

When a man (or a woman, but today we are speaking of a dude) successfully continues to exist for a complete year as measured by the Gregorian calendar (not a feat to be scoffed at, believe you me), we celebrate the occasion.

Sometimes this is done with cake and ice cream.

Sometimes this is done with a party and ill-fitting conical hats.

Sometimes both.

And sometimes it is celebrated with a song by The Band:

I’ve never much listened to The Band, outside of what’s played on the radio, but this is the sort of thing I appreciate. I’m pretty awful when it comes to talking about music, but I like the lurchy-staggery pace of a song like this. I always think — and you’ll forgive the obviousness of this, but — that the strum of an acoustic guitar and the slow, spiderlike tinkling of a piano combine in a wistful way, like you are a little sad but also smiling. To me it is the sound of nostalgia, but I do not know what it means to the person who requested this song.

So happy birthday to Plok, is what I am saying here.