We open up the Walkabout reader mailbag

To repeat a warm but obviously bogus platitude, I couldn’t write this Blog without you, my dear friends and devoted readership. I’d like to acknowledge each of your comments and letters individually, but I can’t be bothered. So today we open up the Reader mailbag and collectively address the comments I have received thus far.

Couch Potato Greg takes umbrage at my criticism of the readership for not commenting. Rest assured, Couch Potato (and I’m sure you do little else but rest) I was not referring to you, or to Loyal Reader or Faithful Reader either for that matter. You are all illustrative of what I am looking for in my blogocites – loyal, faithful, and not overly feisty. (By the way Couch Potato, I was thinking of you in writing about the Segway. It would make a great commuting vehicle to take you from your armchair to the refrigerator for a fresh beer.)

Luddite, on the other hand, may become a problem. Responding to my epistle on fear and bungee jumping he asks “How about you confront your fear of full time employment here in the good ol' US of A?” Firstly, my dear Ludd, a certain tone of respect is due me as Blog Master. Perhaps I have myself to blame. Some posts ago I referred to one reader as an “obsequious moron” and I’m afraid this may have been misinterpreted. I was concerned that the term “moron”, though entirely accurate, might come across as overly harsh. I added the modifier “obsequious” to temper it and give credit where credit was due. I meant it in the positive sense of “slavish”, “fawning” or “sycophantic”, qualities that are certainly admirable in those who comment on this Blog.

As for the substance of Luddite’s query, in the words of Ecclesiastes, “to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven”. This is my season for slacking off. Please don’t cramp my style. And when I do finally get around to looking for a job I will be able to add at the bottom of my resume those magic words that all employers look for: “Segway-capable and bungee-tested.” When coupled with my other obvious qualifications (for example, I always know the exact amount of time to reheat anything in a microwave) I will be virtually un-unemployable. And don’t forget, I will have a weather predicting howler monkey to accompany me on all my interviews. Enough said on the subject of job search. We will speak of this no more.

To Faithful Reader and Loyal Reader, thank you for your faithful and loyal comments. But are you sure you are separate individuals? If so you might want to meet up as you have much in common. And yes, I would urge you to get the physical conditioning program cracking post-haste. After all my adventures to date I have legs like steel bands. Unless yours are of titanium quality, or at least molybnium, you have no hope of keeping up. If they are merely rubber bands, perhaps you should try bungee jumping.

Solesister, feels that there is a diagnostic code for someone who bungee jumps at age 50. Yes there is: IB2Gr84U! You clearly overlook the therapeutic potential of the b-jump. Think of it as a replication of the birth trauma, but with a longer umbilical cord. Also, no one charged me $300 to be born. The screaming was much the same though.

To KC, it is wonderful to see you emerge from your lurking shadows, even if it is to question my sexual orientation just because I accompanied my dear family on the Sound of Music Tour in Salzburg. Intolerance is an ugly thing. Remember, we are all children of god. Except for me. I am his first cousin. (Solesister, I expect you have a diagnostic code for that too.)

Anonymous writes “I want to see the turtles! Come on everyone - TURTLES! TURTLES! TURTLES”. For shame! And you wonder why you remain anonymous!

the boo offers a puzzler in the Korean tongue. The word is pronounced: ban-chi choam-puh and relates to bungee jumping. She provides the unhelpful hint that there is no J in the Korean alphabet. I am at a loss. Any Korean scholars out there?

Tom's Neighbor offers to link me up to other bloggers. But Walkabout is like the shark, he swims alone, a lonely predator of the deep… (Oh yea, Walkabout was going to bag that analogy before he gets locked up). I’m still new to this blogging stuff. What does it mean to link to another blog. Is there a risk of infection? Is it true that you are linking to any blog they have ever linked to? In theory I am open to anything that will help spread Walkabout’s good news, and am considering morphing this from a travel blog to an evangelical religion. I could live on the t-shirt sales alone.

pizzadawgy! Wants to know if she can come on my next midlife crisis. Sorry pizzadawgy, but my next crisis will be a latelife crisis in which I will be hobbling the world in my walker, looking for good bingo games. I don’t think you would enjoy it. But you can certainly have your own early-life crisis. I’m sure your parents would appreciate that. And there’s still time to get it out of the way before your next regularly scheduled crisis (called being a teenager).

Petey wants to know how come I never mention any dogs in my blog. It is curious he should bring that up since, entirely coincidentally, I was preparing to inaugurate a new blog feature – Dogs of the Pacific Rim. For our first installment, here’s a photo I took while visiting friends on the North Island:

They have eight dogs! No two alike (like snowflakes) though a preponderance of terriers. I couldn’t get them to line up for the photo.

They also have five cats, a ratio that puts the cats at a distinct disadvantage. Does anyone know a mathematical formula to establish the proper ratio of cats to dogs in multi-animal households?

Also, they didn’t have a single collie. Have you ever noticed that you don’t see collies anymore? When I was growing up, in the Lassie days, every second dog seemed to be a collie. Boys named Timmy couldn’t get themselves trapped in caves without collies lining up to form search parties or weave their collars into rescue ladders. Where have all the collies gone? Perhaps they are like the elves who, in the waning days of middle earth, saw that their time was over and sailed off to the far elfin lands. If I ever find myself in collie land, pizzadawgy!, I’ll be sure to report fully.

To those commentors I have missed, my apologies. Send me another note and I will catch up next time we reach into the Walkabout reader mailbag.

Your faithful correspondent,

Walkabout Dave