Hi. I’m a bit preoccupied today with efforts to publicize Teh Bgu. You can help introduce him to a wider audience by linking http://metamorphosism.com/bug/ on your site today, if you don’t already, and if it like doesn’t clash with your usual style or anything. If enough people link, you see, the site gets onto Blogdex or other similar places, and millions of people see it. Literally millions. And they all come to the site to play with the Ebug Bugbot and buy the merchandise and syndicate the comic and all that. So, if it’s no problem for you – totally optional of course – please give The Bug a link today. We’ll return to regularly scheduled programming shortly.

Ebug – the world’s first bugbot.

Talk to Ebug and cheer up.

Now with helicopters.

First, go read Peggy.

Also Gwen.

I’ve always found marriage a most queer institution, so this whole controversy is a little hard for me to understand. I’m straight, I’m married and I don’t feel threatened by anyone else getting married unless it’s like Rush Limbaugh marrying Ann Coulter and they’re planning offspring.

I’m an ordained minister (and have performed a marriage, and they’re still married), and wouldn’t mind performing marriages between consenting adult humans as long as they promise to coax me thru when I get stagefright.

Left for work early again today, drove Beta to the train station. Light was good, days are getting longer, it was nice to be able to see things on the way to the office again, like fields covered in snow, patches of fog, a sky freezing cold and nearly white, tail end of a sunrise fading from purple to orange, icicles a meter long (that’s about 39 inches for those of you etc etc) hanging from the freeway overpasses.

Yes, it’s been good icicle weather. Damn, icicle is one of those words, the more you look at it, the more it looks like a spelling error.

Icicle, icicle, icicle, icicle. Icicleicicleicicleicicleicicleicicle.

It’s fasting season, so everyone is eating herring here today, except me. My sweetie is out of town for a week, it’s just me and the kids, and the grandparents. Oh and the cats. Mother-in-law emphasized last night, then emphatically reiterated, the importance, the essential necessity, that I not pack the kids any meat products or by-products in their school lunches this morning. So they got bread-and-butter, and strawberries (you’d think strawberries out of season would be more luxurious and non-fasting than bologna) and carrot sticks, because they always get carrot sticks. Gamma feeds them to her friends in school, or trades them for sweets. Not sure what Beta now does with hers. In grade school she also distributed them. I kept her entire class in carrot sticks.

Kids who distribute carrot sticks are high up in the pecking order in Austrian schools, or something. They also buy friends with the chocolate chip cookies I sometimes bake.

So anyway, no bologna so God is happy. Or at least my mother-in-law. Is there a difference?

Id: Woo! Woo! Woet! Yes!
Superego: Ssshh!

Ego: Relax, both of you. The windows are up. Anyway, she’s wearing a coat. What’s with you, Id?
Id: Under the coat she’s naked!
Superego: You’re disgusting.
Ego: She’s wearing jeans and a sweater under the coat.
Id: The jeans were faded, did you see that? They were faded in a way that suggests she has a butt.
Ego: Everyone has a butt, except maybe for that actress who was in, what was that movie called? Speed?

Superego: Sandra Bullock has no butt?
Ego: I remember her saying that in an interview. What do I know?
Id: Ha! You said butt!
Superego: Grow up.
Ego: You know what? I’m tired of both of you. [Stops car at red light.] Both of you, in the back seat right this minute. Gestalt, get up here in front.

Gestalt. Heh.
Superego: But without me you’d do something you regret.
Ego: The only thing I regret is paying any attention to your prissy, wet-blanket party-pooping fear-mongering warnings all my life.
Id: Hah! You the man! But without me you’d have no fun.
Ego: Fun? What fun? You think you’re so bad, but what trouble have you gotten me into? What fun have I ever had on account of you? All my youth, there I was, surrounded by cheap booze, fast cars and beautiful interesting people and your idea of fun was to find where my dad hid the nasty magazines he found on the bus.
Superego: Under the mattress.

Ego: Where else?
Superego: Did you ever find the quirt in the dresser?
Ego: No fooling?
Gestalt: Heh. Look at the big picture, man.
Id: But…
Superego: But…

Ego: Forget it. From now on, I’m driving.
Superego: The Id’s on my half.
Id: Am not. Go run for President, why don’t you.
Ego: Pipe down back there, I’ve had it.
Gestalt: Heh. Where’s the Sepultura CD?