Drumming for the mud-people

The highlight of my summer so far came this past Saturday evening:
I was sitting by the campfire, strumming some Grateful Dead, when the mud-people arrived and demanded a drummer. Not wishing to disappoint, I put down my guitar and started drumming (I'm not sure why, but there was a djembe nearby). And then they began to dance as the night slowly fell. I probably drummed for over an hour. Good times.
A few notes: first, I realize that some people use the term "mud-people" as a racial epithet. I'm not using it in that sense here. These were mostly middle-class whites; I just don't know how else to describe them--there were perhaps 20 of them--covered from head to toe in mud. Except for one little sprout, who kept her dreadlocks and glasses mud-free.
Another note: I was eventually by two other drummers. Two of us had PhDs, the other was a PhD candidate. I usually don't equate intelligence with education (I mean, really), but of course there is some correlation, and I thought it wise to particpate by drumming rather than actually immersing ourselves in mud. Some might say this shows the dangers of academia, watching rather than participating. But that's my personal vice: I'm a 5, remember? And, none of the drummers had to run off to take a shower before going to bed; since they're solar-powered showers (I can see Matt smirking now), they weren't very warm by 10PM.
Last, but not least, and not related to the mud-people: my friend Terry has finally launched his website: Philosophy in the Service of the Good. There is much more content there than I expected--it's no mere blog!--so I haven't fully investigated it myself, but I trust Terry (most of the time).
Oh, the cartoon: I tell people that I take notes by drawing cartoons, and usually they evoke a complete picture of what was happening at the time. I have absolutely no idea why I drew this particular cartoon, but I thought it was vaguely amusing.