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[ * The good folks at (parenthetical note) are co-hosting Y.P.R.'s daily birthday cards. Be nice, go pay them a visit.
Each and every day, Y.P.R. sends an honest-to-God birthday card to its favorite celebrity. Come, celebrate with us. Enjoy.
May 30, 1957 | Ted McGinley | shark jumper Dear Ted, Happy 45th! I can't believe you are only 45 when you've been tanking shows for all of these years. You screwed up "Happy Days" when you were only 23. Well, that's not entirely true. I submit that the increased screentime of Scott Baio in anything automatically has an effect on ratings. Then, you screwed up "The Love Boat". Well, you and Lauren Tewes's virtually insatiable appetite for cocaine. I have to admit, you scored a winner when you joined the cast of "Married ... With Children." Your Jefferson D'Arcy character was the inspiration for my wedding Amanda Bearse in an impromptu ceremony some years ago (We got into a huge fight on the honeymoon and the wedding was subsequently annulled). Then, you joined the cast of "Sports Night," the most underrated show of the 1998-99 television schedule, and got the thing cancelled! Your track record sucks. Happy birthday, though. Geoff Wolinetz P.S. If you do anything to "The Simpsons," mark my words: You will not live to regret it. Go join the cast of "Becker." That show sucks. May 29, 1903 | Bob Hope | century Dear Mr. Hope, Happy 100th Birthday! That's the first time in all of my birthday-card writing that I've ever had to type three digits for age. It's kind of neat actually. In honor of your momentous birthday, I've created three lists (attached below). One is a list of things that are older than you by less than ten years. One is a list of thigs you are the same age as. The last is a list of things you are older than by less than ten years. All three are, of course, abridged. I have neither the time nor the inclination to write everything that is older than you, the same age as you and that you are older than down on paper. For starters, I'd need a lot of paper. Also, ink. Anyway, here goes: Things that are older than you by less than ten years:
The Spanish-American War (1898)
Things you are the same age as: Alternating Current (1903)
Things that you are older than by less than ten years: Einstein's Theory of Relativity (1905)
Well, Mr. Hope. Good job hanging on. Packards are gone. Titanic, gone. Cubs still haven't won the whole shebang. I salute you, my good man. Happy Birthday! Geoff Wolinetz May 28, 1968 | Kylie Minogue | pop singer Dear Kylie, Happy 35th! "Can't Get You Out of My Head" just won't get out of my head. I've tried everything. Listening to the song over and over, self-help tapes, using a lead pipe to brain myself (this made me forget how to read but I still remembered the song), Alcoholics Anonymous (unrelated). Nothing has worked. I haven't stopped singing this song since the December, 2001, and I really need to get on with my life. Your song has cost me everything. I've been fired. My impending marriage to Hollywood icon Phyllis Diller has been put on hold. My car has been repossessed. All because I can't get "Can't Get You Out of My Head" out of my head. Enjoy your successes. I'll see you in hell. Geoff Wolinetz May 27, 1965 | Todd Bridges | stroke Dear Mr. Bridges, Todd motherfuckin' Bridges! Happy 38th Birthday, my man! So what's happenin', Willis? I've noticed you have tons of movie credits to your name lately but they all seem to be a pretty big departure from your days as the debonair big brother of Arnold Jackson. What gives? Thanks to you, I understand the world don't move to the beat of just one drum, what might be right to you, may not be right to some. But, Willis, it seems to me that starring in Flossin: a Lesson about Keepin' It Real just isn't a great career move. Then again, what do I know; I'm not the one who dated Charlene. Aw yeah, baum chicka baum baum. Are ya feelin' me, dawg? So I was thinking Willis, you and me should get together. I'm a huge fan of your work, especially anything pertaining to that "little black book" you always referred to on the "Strokes." I figure, with my expertise on your career -- I've studied your strengths and weaknesses like sailors used to study the skies at sea -- I could navigate you to some serious loot. Let me know what you think. Whatever your current agent is charging you as commission, I'll undercut him by 75%. And you can take that to the bank, my former child prodigy friend. Happy Birthday. And get back to me, we can rap about it over a mocha.
Regards, P.S. You know where I can get a decent dime bag around here? May 25, 1939 | Sir Ian McKellan; | thespian Dear Sir, Happy 64th Birthday! To celebrate, I'm playing with my Magneto and Gandalf action figures! I've got original Magneto from X-Men, the new Magneto from X-2, and Magneto with Super Magnet-Sticking Action™. It really sticks to everything metal! My football helmet, my belt buckle, the plate in my head, even my retainer! Also, I've got original Gandalf the Grey from Fellowship, Gandalf the White from Two Towers, and Gandalf with Special Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grillin' Action™! I've also got one toy that I think is a factory error or something, because it's got your Magneto head on sexy Rebecca Romijn-Stamos's naked blue body. Trippy. But still, it's a whole party of little Sir Ian McToys! You know, for a stinky old man, you've got a lot of little children's playthings in your image. Creepy. Anyway, what I'm really searching for to complete my collection is an action figure of you as fruity Frankenstein-director James Whale from Gods and Monsters. I can't seem to find one anywhere. It's super rare. Do you have one I can borrow? Well, I've made little construction-paper birthday hats for all of my little McIans, and I even bought a Hostess Cupcake, which looks like huge to them, because of perspective. You see, when you're only six inches tall, a normal-sized cupcake that can fit in a full-sized man's hand looks like a gigantic novelty cake that can fit a stripper inside. I bet you'd like that, huh? Ha ha, you old dog! Anyway, I bet if all my little Magnetos and Gandalfs and Rebecca Romijn-Gandalfs were little real-live yous, they'd totally freak out, because there's no way they could eat all that cake. I really like Hostess Cupcakes, Sir Ian. Happy Birthday, ya old coot! Regards,
May 23, 1974 | Jewel; | songstress Dear Jewel, Happy 29th Birthday! You are lucky I'm writing you a card at all. Six years ago, I wrote you a letter inviting you to my fraternity's Spring Hawaiian-themed Formal, "Wowie In Maui!" I waited patiently for your response, not really expecting a "yes," but not totally writing off the possibility. I waited until the last possible moment and then was stuck going with Rachel Goldman, who quite frankly, shouldn't be allowed out of the house, much less to an event requiring formal wear. Jewel, you broke my heart. I had to change all of the passwords on my various e-mail and Internet site accounts (it was "sexwithjewel") because of your egregious (and hurtful, I might add) snubbing of me. All I wanted was some correspondence from you. You broke my heart. On second thought, screw you.
Love,
May 23, 1958 | Drew Carey; | Dilbert impostor Dear Drew, Happy 45th Birthday! And congratulations on being you. You seem to really enjoy it. That and hookers, of course. I've been known to do dabble in hookers in my day also. Not really; just trying to make you feel better about being a celebrity and all-around funny guy that needs to pay for sex. I guess you're not that funny. I've never really watched your show but I know it's about Cleveland. To be honest, I had my fill of Ohio after "WKRP in Cincinnati" and my visits to Sandusky. They claim to have the world's largest roller coaster there. It was pretty tall, you should check it. Let's get back to the hookers, Drew. I was wondering how you go about finding your hookers. Are they off-the-street drive-bys like in "America Under Cover: Whose Hooker Is It Anyway?" Personally, I like to watch the Public Access channel and see which 1-900 number looks most enticing. They all seem to like me but I'm not as rich as you so I can't afford the sex. You think you can spot me a few hundred? Stay funny you buzz cut bastard. Or should I say, get funny.
Your brother in sexin' up them hookers (not really),
May 21, 1952 | Mr. T | man, myth Dear T, Happy 51st Birthday, sucka! Jibba jabba! So, tell me, T, will you be pitying any fools this birthday? Or are you taking your birthday off? Because, man, I've got a long list of fools that deserve your pity. I'd pity them myself, but I don't want to cramp your style, sucka. Jibba. In fact, I have some fools overseas that too are in need of T-brand pity. Jabba jebba. Attached to this card, you'll notice a ten-page list. Please pity in any order you choose, but I've highlighted the most egregious fools. Jub jub. Okay, I've got to go shave my head into a Mohawk, put on my mom's 70s-era jewelry, and punch things. I like to pretend I'm you on Wednesdays. Jib jib. Don't let anybody slip you a Mickey and drag you on a plane, Big T. Ha, ha. Jibba jabba, fibba fabba, jilly. Happy Birthday!
Best,
May 20, 1959 | Bronson Pinchot | Mypiot Dear Balki, Happy 44th Birthday! I'm so happy it's your birthday! I'm going to do the "Dance of Joy!" Di di, di di, di di di di! Hey! Hey! HEY! Di di, di di, di di di di! Hey! Hey! HEY! Di di, di di, di di di di! Hey! Hey! HEY! Whew, that was fun. Happy 44th!
Sincerely,
May 9, 1949 | Billy Joel | piano man Dear BJ, Happy 54th birthday! I love your music. You inspired me to purchase a huge piano-shaped house and a piano to put in the piano-shaped house. There's a piano in the piano but only 'Little' Pete can get in there to play it. Anyway, perhaps you'd like to come over sometime and play the piano with me. I'm not terribly good but I know this wonderfully musical song called "Heart and Soul." It is divine. I have to ask you something though. Dear God, man, what happened to you? You look like you ate you. I recently saw a show where you did a duet with Tony Bennett and I'm wondering to myself how it is that he's twenty years older than you and looks thirty years younger. Did you lose a bet with Satan? Is that how you got so famous while being so ugly? Also, is that how you married a supermodel? Man, this explains so much! Your fame, your fortune, your ex-wife. Well, I feel better. Oh, sorry about the whole Satan thing though. Let me know when the Earth is supposed to swallow you whole. I'll send you another card. Oh, one more thing. Is your daughter really pissed at you because her mother is so hot and she looks like you? I'd be, but that's just me. Hey, have a great birthday though. Geoff May 8, 1944 | Gary Glitter | musician Dear Mr. Glitter, Na na na na
Man, I could sing this for days. Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na, Na na na na, Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na na na na na na na na Hey! Na I'm tired. May 7, 1974 | Breckin Meyer | actor Dear Breckin Meyer, Happy 29th Birthday! OK, I'm looking and I'm looking and I'm looking and for the life of me, I can't place you. I know that I know you from somewhere but I can't figure out where. Did you go to Camp Towanda? Were you an Apache in 1986? That's the only thing that I could come up with. I mean, I know that you didn't go to my high school or all of your acting crap would show up in the goddamn alumni e-mail that I can't unsubscribe to. Are you a distant cousin of mine? I don't think you were at any of those Passover Seders that we have but they are like 90-people large, so maybe you were there. I feel like my mother would be comparing me to you all the time if we were related. I don't think that's it. Well, if you come up with anything let me know. It's killing me. Happy Birthday, ya sonofabitch! Geoff Wolinetz May 6, 1961 | George Clooney | worst Batman ever Dear Mr. Clooney, Happy 42nd! I understand that your aunt is the fabulous Miss Rosemary Clooney. I have been a fan of hers for years! To be honest, I'd never even heard of you until I saw you on this talk show, um, "Rangis and Carly" or something like that, and you mentioned that she was your aunt. How wonderful! Listen, could you do me a favor? I would die if you could send me a lock of her hair for my scrapbook. It's the only thing missing and I'm really anxious to finish it up because I'm falling behind on my Céline Dion scrapbook. She is divine! Thanks for anything you can do for me. Happy birthday! Geoff Wolinetz P.S. Why were you on the "Rangis and Carly" show anyway? Did you write a book about your aunt or something? May 6, 1945 | Bob Seger | singer Dear Bob, Happy 58th Birthday! Bob, I've got to tell you this: everytime I hear that "Like a Rock" song, it brings a tear to my eye. And it makes me want to buy a car. A Chevy, maybe. Or a Ford. I don't know why, but something in that tune of yours instills an overwhelming sense of pride in me for the American automotive industry. Just the other day, I was shopping in my local Wal-Mart for some canned peaches, garden hoses, and some 3-in-1 oil (party tonight), and I heard "Like a Rock" piped in through the Muzak. I'll be damned if I didn't drop my purchases right there, march out of the store, into my Chevy van, and right to the local Chevrolet dealer. I bought a Caprice, right there, right then, all because I heard "Like a Rock." The problem is, I've got like fifteen cars already, and I really can't afford to keep buying new ones. I've tried ear muffs, but they don't filter out anything. Your song is just too damn powerful. Like a rock, indeed, Bob. Happy Birthday, Old Timer! Yours,
P.S. What's with the Silver Bullets? Is it in honor of Coors? Or to protect against werewolves? May 5, 1981 | Danielle Fishel | topanga Dear Topanga, Happy 22nd Topanga! Topanga topanga topanga. Topanga panga? Potanga. Topangingly potato. Also, I topanged "Topanga topanga Topanga," on ABC-TV. Taponga! Topappy Topangaday! Topangly, T. Pang
May 2, 1976 | Josh Abraham | cultural icon Dear Mr. Abraham, Happy 27th Birthday! I work at a small restaurant in Oregon. We own the domain name "yankeepotroast.com." It has come to our attention that you are running a "humorous" literary magazine at "yankeepotroast.org." We'd like to request that you cease and desist immediately. Your irreverent brand of writing only brings shame and poor light on the hallowed name "Yankee Pot Roast." We take our Yankee Pot Roast very seriously. Each morning at 5 A.M., Grandpa Jack wakes up to begin the Yankee Pot Roast process. He pounds the meat for hours and hours, at first slowly then gaining increasing speed until he reaches a passionate crescendo. Then, all at once, the meat pounding is finished. Grandpa Jack immediately goes to sleep. He passes the duty on to Grandma Lucy, who takes the tenderized meat and massages it for 30-40 minutes. She seasons it delicately, using only the finest American spices. The meat then simmers in it's own gravy for hours, while Grandma Lucy simmers in a warm bathtub. When finished, the Yankee Pot Roast is served to an adoring suburban Oregon crowd, who praise the meat for its tenderness and juiciness. We cannot have your site of filth destroying the elbow grease of Grandma Lucy and Grandpa Jack (who are, incidentally, neither married nor grandparents). Again, happy birthday! Edmund Stevenson
May 1, 1967 | Tim McGraw | country singer Dear Mr. McGraw, Happy Birthday, Tim! Yee-ha! Do people even say that in the country anymore? You see Tim, I'm a city slicker, born and bred, but whenever I feel a little out-slicked by the hustle and bustle of the big city and all the drugs and prostitutes and parole officers, I turn to country music for a release. Yee-ha! McGraw! What a name. I think you should pitch it to McDonald's: the McRaw, a steak tartar for the masses. Being a cowpoke and all, I'm sure you're all into slaughtering and selling cattle for food, right? Mmm, the McRaw! Tasty! Juicy! Moo! You'd be the perfect pitchman for a steak samwich. You’re a handsome man, Tim. I love the beard. I swear you look like you've just stepped out of a Just For Men commercial. (And you were great as Don Johnson's stubble double back on "Miami Vice." Those were the days, huh? The heat is on, Tim!) Clearly, you and your immaculately groomed beard know the importance of immaculate grooming. You'd have to; I mean, you've corralled a hot cowgirl like Faith Hill. She'll give you faith, all right. Know what I mean, Tim? I bet you do. One last thing, Tim: you should really wear looser jeans. I know it’s part of the whole "rugged cowboy, big package" country-singer appeal, but I’m pretty sure that super-tight pants will give you testicular cancer. I don't know if there's any medical proof of this, but let's play it safe when your cajones are on the line. That's Spanish for "balls," Tim. Happy Birthday, big guy.
Yours truly,
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