Special mailbag edition!

Hey, everybody! 'Sfunny. I had like, one or two comments a couple days ago, and, while I do like to respond to the fan mail, there was that poll, so I thought I'd wait a bit and address things altogether, and then like, everyone commented yesterday and I'm like, what the huh? and now I have lots of people to respond to. So, rather than write one long-ass comment on my own blog, and because I'm busy today writing a test for my fourth-graders (and too lazy to think of anything actually interesting to write about), today's post is dedicated to... you, my dear readers.

Hi Geb! Glad you could make it. No one, unfortunately, has asked me about vulnerable sector screening yet. How's Boston (transplant version)?

Claire, way to go...all the way into total blogspot anonymity. Thanks for the lengthy email update, by the way. I'm sorry I never wrote back. Not much to say, really, except thanks for the sympathy and the rhapsodizing about your new neighborhood. It was most entertaining, and I'd say you can add writing to your list of "whodathunk" talents.

Chris: Dude, anything is better than the jack-holes at the Fogg. A six-month dead, demonically reanimated, rabid baboon is better than those fuckers. Incidentally, my first paycheck totally vindicates my mad decision to leave behind that ten-grand buyout. I worked it out, and, hour for hour, I'm making literally twice as much as I made there. Tell Whitt. Please. I need to hear the "But still..." before I can properly gloat. Also, how's Boston (native version)?

Everybody: Uh, despite recent comments, my dear, dear friend Nichole is not actually hyper-violent. She's just, um, easily excitable. And a little protective. You'll a good Mama Bear, Nic.

Hi to David, too! Davey, I checked out the blog you have in your profile, and I gotta say, I'm not impressed. Three words, man: Smacks. Of. Effort. (Huh, three words...)

Ya know, Dad, it really sounds like you're hitting your stride with this whole retirement thing. Poetry festivals, camping -- camping? When was the last time you went camping? To be honest, I was a little worried while I was in Dallas that, while you certainly appreciated the rest, you might be getting a little, I dunno, bored? But this is now, what, like the fifth time you've gone out to L. A. since I left? Claire tells me you call her and go on and on about this week's concert and next week's opera and stuff -- I'm glad you're having fun, Dad, I really am. It's about time.

By the way, everyone, do y'all know Dad's moving in with Uncle Bill in California? Claire let slip in a comment a few weeks ago, but I wanted to get it all out in the open. This is, let me say, a ridiculously good idea. Yeah, "ridiculous" is the word I want, as in, it feels ridiculous that no one came up with this years ago -- except, of course, it didn't really make sense until like, last month. What I'm trying to say is that the only surprising thing about this news (to me, anyway) is how perfectly natural and sensible it sounds.

I hope you're not too embarrassed by the attention, Dad, but I think you deserve a public round of congratulatory applause.

Finally, thanks to everyone who answered the poll. Thanks Dad, for the time stamp analysis. I'm pretty sure that's what this poll thing was about. Sometimes the answers I'm looking for are different from the questions I ask. And to everyone who reads my stuff at work -- keep it up. Just don't forget it's your jobs I'm teaching Koreans to steal.