Bears.
I once had a 500 pounder no more than six feet behind me at half past midnight and felt almost as safe as I did at a mafia family reunion.
I was reading an actual newspaper today.
The front page newspaper headline: BEAR ATTACKS CHILD: 2-year-old Sparta Boy Unhurt Outside Home.
The picture: The wily toddler looks slightly confused on his mother's lap but more as if the flash of the camera caught him off guard. Something that resembles jelly is splattered across his top lip and cheeks. Pity splatters. More dangerous than any black bear is an unfit mother who can't wipe her son's face with a towelette before the camera crew shows up.
The story: Mark, the boy, had been sitting on his front steps. Along came a black bear to wisk him off into the wilderness by carrying the boy with his jagged sharp teeth by the flap of skin on the back of the neck. Wait, I lie. That sounds more like Grimm's fairytales. Has anyone ever read the story where the brothers are all playing "butcher" and everyone dies? That has absolutely nothing to do with this but it is a beauty. The truth is that the bear swatted at him (heresay) causing an abrasion and a bump on the forehead. He was "thoroughly frightened." They mean the boy but probably the bear too.
The questions: What in all hell was this boy doing watching a bear swagger up to him like that? One of the first things we learned as kids living in northern New Jersey was bear safety: simple, if you see one coming and you've got time, don't stick around to get pummeled.
So when the mother saw the bear playing noggin volleyball with her son, she scooped him up and brought him inside.
As the story goes, she left her son in front of the television to use the "restroom" (apparently they live in a Denny's). The boy escaped and what must have been seconds later, she heard him hysterically crying on the front steps. The following drama demands quoting:
'Panic, however, had taken over, and she ran inside. She attempted to
simultaneously comfort her son, speak to the police, and frighten the
bear away -- "Get the f---- away from my son!"'
Excuse the poor grammar, punctuation, and diction. This newspaper is at a fourth grade reading level. But in drama, it runs high. This harrowing tale resulted in the classification of the bear as Category 1 (which means that he is at a high danger of terrorist attack) and his death by firing squad. One bear down, a skillion to go.
A few years back, New Jersey tried to instill the bear hunt which would make it legal for hunters to shoot and kill bears for sport. They are still trying; making up rules like "one bear per person" (making it the worst buffet I have ever attended). This is a stupid sport. Unlike deer and partridge and even duck, bear are not used for their meat by a suburban hunter. The beast can weigh up to 800 pounds and why would a hunter aim for the little rascals when a more daring rifle would go for the momma bear? So they shoot the large ones and leave them in the middle of the woods to hemorrhage. They are too collosal to carry home and their meat isn't even worth the transport. I know of one place in this entire county that serves bear. If anyone is interested, the Thirsty Moose on Rt. 15 in Jefferson will serve you anything from bear to alligator to unidentified roadkill. The point is that bear fur is not used for anything, bear hide is not used for anything, bear meat is not fried up for dinner. Killing a bear is absolutely useless.
There is no such thing as overpopulation. Plenty of room exists for the bears to romp and play but now most of the soil has been magically transformed into concrete foundation. What I mean is that the most popular spot to build a set of condos in this town is on the side of a mountain: pretty view, close to a water source, even far from the highways. Most condos are built right on top of the bears' caves.
You can't just pop a cap into a woodland creature for wandering onto your lawn to pick at your garbage. That animal has every right to swat your face clean for stealing its home.
That was yesterday's newspaper. Today's front page headline states: RU-ben! RU-ben!: Soul Singer named 'American Idol'.
Shocker.
But if you look to the left there is an itty bitty skinny column, the headline in size 14 font: Problem 'Bearly' Solved: New garbage containers donated to Sparta family.
The director of the Bear Education and Resource Group donated a bearproof garbage can to the family that "obviously [had] a garbage problem." Fucken jag-offs. If a bear can smell your dinner turning to slop in a hefty bag, there is no doubt that the bear will feel quite comfortable tearing it apart quicker than a ball gown on prom night.
There is rule number two of bear safety for you. Duh.
Two points to the bear killers this time. But one question: what do you do with your 250 pound carcass?
