Happy 60th! Today marks a real milestone for you, you space oddity you! Have some cake on me. Or, put some cake on me and then have me.

I know some will say it's sacrelige to post you here in your Serious Moonlight garb, but as a child of the 80s this is how I really first came to know you, and you were quite beautiful with your puffy hair and weird eyes and well-tailored suits. I'm not sure that I would have enjoyed your back catalog quite as much without seeing you dapper first.

Please keep making movies, too: Your turn as Nikolas Tesla in this year's "The Illusionist" was marvelous, but I'll always remember you best in "The Man Who Fell to Earth," one of the first movies I saw which made zero sense to me — but which I still liked. And I adore you and Tom Conti in "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence," even though you do end up buried to your neck in sand and die a horrible death.

There's sand in my trousers

I'm also terribly proud that you've made a marriage to a model work. And that we still don't know if you and Mick Jagger ever got it on.

You've also taught me there are apparently three ways to pronounce your surname. Like you're a city in Maryland — "Boo-wee!" — the correct way: "Boh-ee" — and the crazy way, which Brits seem to do even though you're British and they should know better: "B-ahw-ee."

Anyway, thanks for keeping my movie and musical experience through the past few decades more entertaining and more weird than I could have ever expected.

I'm happy — hope you're happy too.

Love,
Randee (The Armchair News General)