Carena, he will not answer you because he would have to soil himself. He is in love with his corner soapbox and you'd have to pry his cold dead hands from it! He reminds me of one of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson, last stanza:

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –  
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –  
To an admiring Bog!