Is that a cake or a bonfire?

This week I reached that point in life where, if you round to the nearest century, I am 100 years old--in the company of such as Bob Hope and Strom Thurmond, were they still alive. I received among other things, a cane, (which I intend to wave,) and a sample pack of Viagra, (which I intend to forward to Bob Dole.) Birthdays can be inspiring. Since I didn't make my money the old-fashioned way, through inheritance, I've always had a ready eye for the get-rich-quick scheme. This week's contribution to the genre is birthday ninjas-for-hire. They come down ziplines out of the blue, clad in black from hood to foot, to surround you on the street. Within seconds you are bound, gagged and stuffed into a black SUV with tinted windows that rushes you off to a surprise party in an undisclosed location. Later, the silent assailants (all trained in CPR and equipped with portable defibrillators,) dump you back on a random street corner in the middle of the night. Many happy returns of the day.