Only because I've been given specific instructions to remove the clowns from the top of my blog screen.

Hi kids. I'm sorry to have to say this, but you crack me straight up with the coulrophobia (fear of clowns.) What are they going to do? IN A PICTURE, at that!

However, you are some of my favorite people in the en-tire world, and because of that, I'm going to post something today so the picture of my Dadness and Mark (er, the clowns) travels further down the page. I'm even going to post something that made me laugh at myownself.

During the Survivor season, I watched only a couple of episodes. After the last one aired, I wrote this, but never posted it:

"I’m still working on the essay with the theory that Tolerance is a Crock of Shit, but haven’t quite knocked that one out as of yet. Today’s essay considers bitterness. And I don’t mean the good kind, as found in bars of 80% cocoa; I mean the kind where every time you open your mouth to, more often than not, “prove your point,” I want to forcefully stick my foot down your throat.

For example, take this guy: Judd from Survivor. Normally, this is the physical type of man I would find really, really sexy. Bigger guy, balding, great skin, keeps his (dark) hair cut very short, Italian-looking. (My very smart S.O. even asked me if I thought Judd was hot – he knows me well.) How.ever. Once Judd opens his mouth to talk, I secretly hope that he’ll choke on his own uvula. In this particular case, I’m referring to the moment in the show when he fairly shouts at another contestant to go to confession when she gets home because she’s such a back-stabber. Then, after he opens his yam to spew some snarky, overwrought, overly-dramatic, cutting comment to another game-player, I start to notice his facial expression. During the entire final Tribal Council and the entire reunion show, he looked like he’d licked a dung-covered shoe."

Shortly after I wrote that, I realized I sounded bitter.

I entertain even myself.

Thank God.