They say it's your birthday

I'm not on Facebook or Twitter. People try to convince me all the time that I should be. They tell me that Facebook, in particular, is a great way to communicate with long lost friends. I usually respond that if they were really good friends, they wouldn't be long and lost in the first place. On top of that, I sit in front of a computer all day every day at work, so I'm not especially interested in sitting in front of a computer as a leisure activity.
I frankly don't get Twitter. People who read the stuff you write on Twitter are called your "followers" which sounds a little cultish to me. Also, your communications are limited to 140 characters. I can't clear my throat in 140 characters, much less convey a cogent thought.
Not playing on the social networking sites does mean that I miss fun little games that get going there. Apparently, people were looking up what the number one song was the day they were born and putting it on Facebook in the last few days. I love music. I remember as a youngster not knowing there was music made after 1975, because my parents controlled the radio and almost exclusively listened to oldies and soul music. Once I got a little older (and got a Jambox) I started listening to the same heavy metal and rap my friends listened to. Then I discovered classic rock and country and the blues and everything else as I started to get a little older.  My taste pretty much runs the gamut, so I thought it would be fun to play the number one song game myself, even if I don't have a Facespace to put it on.
My level of excitement was severely dampened when I actually started looking up the songs. The tune that was actually number one the day I was born ("Whatever Gets you Thru The Night" by John Lennon) wasn't too bad. When I turned one, "Island Girl" by Elton John topped the charts and Rod Stewart's "Tonight's The Night" was the most popular song in the land when I turned two. After that, there was a severe drop-off, however. For some reason, folks must have a real hankering for cheesy ballads and all-around twaddle in mid-November every year.
"You Light Up My Life" by Debby Boone was number one when I was three. It's a pretty sounding song and held the record for most weeks at number one for many years, but it's also more syrupy than a plate of pancakes. "MacArthur Park" by Donna Summer was number one the next year. With lyrics like "someone left the cake out in the rain" the original version of this song (by Richard Harris) is one of my ten least favorite songs of all times. Ms. Summer's version is actually worse since it has the same inane lyrics AND a disco beat.
The following years gave my birth date number one songs like "Still" by The Commodores, "Up Where We Belong" by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes and "Lady" by Kenny Rogers. I like The Commodores and Kenny Rogers fine and really enjoy Joe Cocker's music, but those drippy love songs aren't my favorite selections by them. Eventually things morph from diabetic coma inducing ballads to full-on '80s bilge. "Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go" and "We Built This City" are unmistakably '80s songs, thanks to goofy lyrics, lightweight subject matter and embarrassing haircuts and clothes in the corresponding music videos.
The run of bad luck continued in the '90s with a song by a pretend band featured on a bad TV show ("How Do You Talk To An Angel" by The Heights), Meat Loaf's comeback ("I'd Do Anything For Love") and a reworked version of an Elton John classic ("Candle In The Wind 1997). The end of the decade was OK, with songs by Lauryn Hill and Santana, before mostly devolving into songs I don't know by people I've never heard of after 2000.
You too can see what song topped the charts on your birthday. Prepare to be impressed or depressed by visiting  http://www.joshhosler.biz/.