Where's Waldo?

That's a fantastic question, John and I'm happy you asked. I remember this character and the ageless question "Where's Waldo" from when my kids were actually kids. But let's get one thing straight - I don't find Waldo or trying to track him down in the least bit cute. I have never trusted this Waldo fellow and looking into his whereabouts only makes him seem even more shady than I had originally thought. I question his wardrobe, his eyeware and the creepy smile on his self-satisfied mug. I have no doubt that he has come to a bad end. Most likely at the business end of a gay biker bar in a quest to satisfy his seemingly endless hunger for the rough trade. That's pure speculation on my part, of course, based on my own close-minded attitude about striped shirts, stocking caps with tassles and walking sticks carried by youth. For all I know, Waldo could be a lifeguard at Coney Island in one of those old-timey striped one-piece bathing suits, or perhaps serving hard time on a Southern prison chain gang after knifing a drifter, or because his deviant, rough-trade lifestyle is not the least bit appreciated.

Or, perhaps Waldo has made his getaway from the Southern chain gang and finagled his way to the Far-East, where he will no doubt meet a bitter end at the hands of a sadistic Vietnamese prison guard or be hauled before international court of law, like Gary Glitter and brought home to face the music.

Wherever home is - but then, that has always been the question, hasn't it?

I'll bet that wherever Waldo hangs his betassled hat, there are drifters and rough-trade merchants aplenty.

Good day, Sir.