So those of you who have been paying attention to my life will know that Joe Ingles is permanently on the “DTB Diss List” for not helping me acquire a real-life wallaby from Australia. He is a full-blown Australian, has insider access to all levels of Australian government (not to mention whatever stupid wildlife conservation agencies they have), and knows where all the best wallabies are kept. Yet he has not lifted a single finger in helping me get a cute, happy, hoppy wallaby to live in my apartment in America.
I have given up on obtaining help from Ingles on this matter. He is dead to me. If there is an afterlife, his will be spent in the 38th circle of hell where wallabies will stomp on his “down-under area” (his nutsack and its supremely delicate contents) for all eternity.
Meanwhile, I have it on good authority that there are wallabies in Canada, which is much easier to get to for an American like me than Australia is. Smuggling a wallaby on an airplane was always going to be a challenge even if I did manage to poach one from the Australian outback. Smuggling one in a large suitcase while I coolly drive across the Canada-US border is considerably more feasible. And the elusive Canadian Wallaby (wallabius canadii) is just as cute and huggable as the Australian Wallaby (wallabius ihatejoeinglesii).
But I went to the nearest border crossing in Minnesota and they had, like, armed guards and stuff there to make sure nobody went through it. I guess the border is closed because Canada doesn’t want all of our COVID-19-carrying vectors to run rampant in their country and destroy them from the inside out. That’s a noble goal and all, but that really makes my wallaby-acquisition project way more difficult than it has to be. It was already going to be hard riding an ATV through the thick forests of northern Saskatchewan searching for elusive clans of Canadian wallabies that I could take home with me. And now you’re telling me there’s a bounty on American heads on top of that? Good thing there’s no border wall because I’m gonna have to run across the border in the middle of the night with a wallaby in my arms licking my face.
All I want is a god damn wallaby. That’s literally all I want in life.
This is Joe Ingles’ fault. I want everybody to know that.