We’ve decided to change technologies and go with WordPress to run our site. We’ve given in to the forces of blog and will try to run with the Blog Dogs from now on. Expect the same great content in a new RSS/XML friendly blog form. No more annoying forums or other crap. Just great blog entries that you will link to as if your life depended on it.

Not to mention that we now have Google ads. Yes, we are sell outs, pray for our souls.

The cognoscenti among us know that it’s all TV’s fault. If there were no TV and and no way for any of the cocksuckers in the middle east or the asshats in the US administration to get their message to your typical dumbfuck American, this would be a moot point. Killing one person would mean nothing because the flag-flying soccer mom in the Dodge Caravan wouldn’t even be able to bitch about with her bleeding gash country club cooze clutch.

Everyone knows that the country is getting dumber and poorer. The birth rate increases in reverse exponential proportion to an increase in economic and education success. Americans are literally breeding themselves stupid and poor. This is why the “all men are equal” forefathers of this country were only giving lip service to such magnanimous ideas. They enjoyed being the elite and they realized that it was imperative for the country to have an elite from which to draw its rulers. Knowing that a massive mob mentality among the dumb and poor would eventually drown out the more knowing and intelligent debate across the country, they built in laws and rules to protect the country.

Unfortunately, those laws and rules are being eroded, not, as you may think, by the liberal left and their socially open policies, but by the religious right which is infesting the intellectual elite with self-righteous, ignorant sycophants whose only goal is to suck at the teat of the American populace. The very people who should represent the educated, concerned, and compassionate “thought leaders” are pushed aside by antiquated, close-minded notions of moral justification that resembles some claim of divine jurisprudence by a President who seems to have coronated himself as the “Son King.”

In the end, what the majority clamor for is twisted into one more layer of bureaucratic insulation for the diseased ruling elite. It’s one more way for the current administration and the millions of NASCAR fans who love it to protect themselves from being superseded by the millions of us whose ideas more closely adhere to the principles and foundations of this country.

So, what we need to do is remove the reasons they hate us, because though extreme, the facts about our society that they hate so much are facts about our society that we should try to amend with equal fervor.

Here at The SpittingLlamas Studio’s, we get little time for lunch. So I’ve been driving to the park next door to eat my brown-bagged goodness.

I put the windows down, pop the hatch on my Jeep Cherokee and I sit in the back, legs stretched out as I read a magazine. Today’s flavor was Scientific American which had just arrived in my mailbox yesterday.

Just as I was there about 5 minutes, and thinking about how relaxing it is as I got deeper in an article about how stars die, I hear…

zzzzzzzzZZZZZTTTTTTTT!

I got hit in the face by a cicada. So I spent the rest of the damn time trying to get him out of my Jeep, which proved to be harder than I thought. The little winged ugliness got nestled down in some programming books I had on the floor.

I can only guess that he wanted to stay in there. With all four windows open wide and the hatch popped, it should have been easy to get out. But no. I guess cicadas aren’t known their intelligence. I’d give him a swat and he’d fly straight up, hit the roof then falls back down to the floor. Repeat about 14 times.

So I think I read about 1 page of my new Scientific American. It was brand new, yet it looks like had been pulled from a recycle bin after having served as my weapon of choice, living through 22 minutes of swatting cicada ass.

From this point forward I’m going to call them Al-Cicada, terror from the underground.

The other night I’m tucking in my 3 year-old son. Generally he picks a book out for me to read to him before bedtime. On this particular night he picks out a book about fire stations.

It’s a basic book for 3 year-old minds. The firemen wake up, they eat breakfast, the alarm goes off, they put on their jackets, go put out the fire… and so on.

Well, after they firefighters put out the fire and return to the station, they talk about the chores firefighters do. Upon which I read this line:

“Fireman Jason waxes the fire pole.”

Hunh? I start to giggle so hard I could barely get out the next line, “Fireman Dan is washing the fire truck.”

At this point my son asks me why I’m laughing. And I brush it off with a, “well, it was just funny to me.”

But really, what could I have said? “Maybe Fireman Jason should stop smacking the tallywacker around and help Fireman Dan wash the truck.”

Proof that parents don’t really grow up.