Malcolm Gladwell

If I were to name my five closest friends, I think I know the birthday of one of them.

And that's because it's January 1st, and I just saw him on January 1st, and he said to me, with tones of great injury and reproach, Today is my birthday.

But I am sure I'll forget that fact really soon.

On this particular subject, the overloaded lifeboat that is my memory is refusing all further passengers.

And by the way, my mother reminded me, it's not just birthdays that I have a problem with.

It's any kind of arbitrary celebration.

I was very fond of Mrs. Brown.

But one day at school, she brought up Christmas and Santa Claus.

Yes.

They're linked, by the way.

My disdain for Santa Claus and my disdain for my birthday is part of the same impulse.

Yes, of course.

Yes, of course, says mom, the therapist.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because last year, 2025, was the 10th anniversary of when we started making Revisionist History, and I forgot all about it.

Totally skipped my mind until I was randomly on the revisionisthistory.com website looking up some forgotten fact from an episode from season one, one of my favorites, Food Fight, and I noticed the release date.

July 14th, 2016, and I realized, holy mackerel, we've been around for 10 years.

The internet tells me that this is the tin or aluminum anniversary, which I have to say kind of proves my point.

What are you supposed to do on your 10th anniversary?

Write I love you in magic marker on a sheet of tinfoil?