Monday, December 20, 2004

Children and the future

Um .... while Harriet was turning in her grades today, I sat down to think about the future. Bears don't normally worry about things like the future, but Harriet had a milestone and it sets a bear to thinking. Someday there will be a baby in the house. How will that change the lives of the bears?

Um ... first, it will mean that there will be more bears in the house. Ozzie issued a moratorium on new bears, but that will be lifted when there is a child. New bears are fun, but a big responsibility. You have to teach the baby bears how to take care of their person. You have to learn to cuddle, how to have tea parties, how to stay on the bed and not fall off (a very tough skill -- Platy is still in training), um ... TV watching, how to use the remote, and uh, let me see ... oh, I know, how to comfort your person when they are sad and keep them safe from monsters (ooh!). All very important skills to learn and it is up to me and Pudgie to teach them.

But, but ... um ... how can I say this nicely, well ... teach them without getting too close to the child. I've heard tale that babies can be smelly, whiny, dirty things. Ooh ... was that out loud? Um ... I'm sure I will like the baby (oh, I hope there is just one, two, oh, two would be a lot of trouble) and I hope she likes me too. But not too much. "Stay away from mommy's bear." Could I make a poster and put that around the room? Or an alarm system? "Stand back from the bear. Stand back from the bear." If I could watch the baby from a distance that would be ideal. Perhaps a cage. A glass cage. ... what? Oh, it's call a crib? Isn't that one of those big houses on MTV? I'm not sure. I would be sure if we had cable TV. So many promises were made to the bears. How do I know that the promise to keep me safe from the baby will be kept? Ooh. Very scary.

One of the most important skills to learn as a bear is how to give your person a furry push in the right direction. I have a feeling that the cable fairies will be visiting soon.

... um, are you sure there is no such thing as cable fairies?

Friday, December 17, 2004

Considered thoughts on Charlie Weis

Goofball's inquiry as to "What type of screwed up name is Weis" has given me cause to consider football for a moment. While I generally hold disdain for television and popular culture in general, I do enjoy a good football game every now and then. Since I lived in Dallas for over twenty years, I am an ardent Cowboys fan.

Goofball expressed reservations over Charlie Weis' last name, but I want to ponder his first name. What type of grown man refers to himself professionally as "Charlie?" Since I enjoy watching football, I often watch television during holidays with Harriet. Thus, I have been subjected to "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" innumerable times (as a rough estimate, if I am forced to watch each one four times a year for twenty years, that is eighty times apiece -- Amnesty International would take great interest in such numbers). The plot of "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" is that the young Mr. Brown cooks perhaps the world's least nutritious and least traditional Thanksgiving dinner consisting largely of popcorn and jelly beans. In "A Charlie Brown Christmas," the entire hour boils down to Charles purchasing the world's least impressive tree. In short, Charlie Brown is a putz.

What does this have to do with football? Charlie Brown is a cultural icon and part of our national fabric. People of all ages and backgrounds know of Charlie Brown. "Charlie" is synonymous with the bald headed son of a barber, who cannot kick a football or accomplish tasks basic to human dignity such as turning in a school paper or asking a red-headed girl on a date. Why would a professional in a macho sport such as football choose to have his colleagues and players refer to him as Charlie? I generally scoff as post-modern theories (where have you gone, John Stuart Mill?), but the politics of identity possess some weight. Why associate yourself with a loser in a profession based more reputation and charisma than on strategy?

The only other Charlie who rivals the justly ridiculed Mr. Brown is Charlie Tuna. I have no idea why one would want to be likened to a chain smoking, myopic Tuna.

The only positive justification for refering to yourself as "Charlie" as opposed to "Charles" or the more masculine "Chuck" is if one is a teddy bear. As Goofball points out, Coach Weis is shaped like a teddy bear, but I do not think teddy bears are good models for football coaches.

Notre Dame has made a number of questionable hiring decisions recently. Ozzie may blossom as a scholar under my careful tutelage. Mr. Charlie Weis has no tutor to ensure that he realizes his potential as a football coach. I certainly hope that Notre Dame hasn't hired its Barry Switzer. This old bear isn't sure that he can root for two teams in disarray.

Charlie Weis?

Turns out Notre Dame couldn't hire the NY bologna dude. Urban Meyer weiner wasn't man enough to coach the big ND and took a job at Florida instead. Ouch. He'd rather coach at the Swamp rather than the flower lined sidelines of Notre Dame stadium. But the Bend has a certain charm to it. First off, it has the Goofball. How many cute baby black bears are hanging out in Gainesville ready to give Urban Meyer weiner a hug? I bet the answer is zero. Second, the Bend has restaurants that are not named Hooters. I'm not really into food, but I reckon one of the 14 steak houses in South Bend has a hamburger equal to a Hooter's burger (that is why guys go there, right? At least that is why Ozzie says he goes to Hooters). Thirdly, I root for Notre Dame and not Florida. I bet the NY bologna fool didn't even take my feelings into consideration. Just gives me one more reason to root against Florida (the first one is their mascot -- alligators are the natural enemies of black bears, well, that and urban sprawl).

So Notre Dame hired Charlie Weis and his two superbowl rings. Pudgie says "Weis" means white in German. Could Nore Dame have hired someone more white? Notre Dame went and hired the opposite of my man Tyrone. Tyrone was small and fit and articulate. Weis bears a slight resemblence to Wagsy. They're both white and shaped like pillows and have big noses. Wagsy uses better grammar and bathes more frequently, but I don't think that matters much for being a football coach. Actually, I think Wagsy might make the world's worst football coach: "Um ... hey guys, you want to hit the showers and come cuddle." That is a phrase that will get a man fired.

I'll still root for Notre Dame, but I'm not sending them any of my money. Apparently donors are the only people they listen to, so the Goofball is withholding funds. I'm not sure how much money is in the bear bank, but it would probably pay a month or two of Charlie's salary.

...

He makes how much?

...

Two millions dollars?! A year?!! Maybe Notre Dame should have hired Wagsy, he would have been cheaper.

Monday, December 13, 2004

A snowy day

Um ... hello. It is the first snowy day of the year. I like the snow. It is white and fluffy, just like someone I know.

... Um, what's that Squacky?

... Yes, you are white and fluffy, but I was thinking of someone larger.

... Um, what's that duck?

... Yes, you are also white and fluffy, but I was thinking of a white and furry dog. ... Is anyone going to interupt me this time? ... Anyone? Anyone? Good.

As I was saying I like the snow. It makes the world look white and furry.

... What's that Goofball?

... No, I don't have anything against bears who are black and furry.

... Yes, I'm sure that I don't have a problem with bears of color. I like everyone. That is part of being a Wags dog. I can't think of anyone I don't like -- even Ozzie when he's being a pillowhead. There isn't a color-ist bone in my body.

... Um, what's that Ozzie?

... You're right, I don't have any bones in my body cuz I'm full of stuffin'. I'm trying to make a simple point. Will all of you please let me type in peace? If you want to make a comment, use the "Comments" section -- that's what is for you know.

Now that there will be no further interuptions from the peanut gallery *menacing, but furry, glare* I can say what I wanted to say. ... Um ... um ... I can't remember what I wanted to say.

... Oh, thanks, Ozzie. Yes, I like the snow. It is white and furry just like me and I like the way I look. I think I look rather welcoming and friendly. The snow also covers up all the dirt that makes the world a dangerous place for a bear. Ooooh, I get nervous just thinking about dirt. But snow is very calming. It is soft and cold and makes Harriet want to snuggle into bed with the bears. Maybe when she gets home tonight, I can pounce on her and we can watch the snow fall together.

... yes --

... yes --

... Um, guys, ... Guys, ... GUYS. Ooh! I just raised my voice. I'm not sure I have ever done that before. It doesn't seem very furry, but I kinda like being authoritative. Feel the power of the fur! The Wagsy rules with a furry paw. Yes, we can all pounce on Harriet when she gets home.

I think this is the last time I let the other bears watch me type.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Bears and Culpability

Last night, Harriet was wasting her time watching popular television. While I admire the ingenuity and technological advancement that television represents, but I can't help but think that culture has been debased and degraded as a result. I prefer to immerse myself in a classic book with a symphony lightly playing in the background. Perhaps television will create a show worthy of inclusion in the pantheon of great works, but for now television consists of drivel and I am disappointed that Harriet watches it.

The show in question was a medical "research" drama (normally, I abhor scare quotes, but regarding television I will indulge myself this trite insult) where children were suffering mysterious heart problems. The protagonist eventually learned that the heart failure was caused by a virus, but that only led to the question of how the newborns were exposed to the virus. It turns out that a nurse carried the virus and teddy bears were the vector for transmission. The TV drama was attempting to blame the illness on teddy bears!

Under even the most cursory scrutiny, such a claim falls apart. In order for an agent (in this case a teddy bear) to be culpable for the deaths of the infants a number of criteria must be met. First, the bear must have knowledge of the cause and effect relationship. Since the teddy bears in question were not equipped with visual senses capable of focusing upon the microscopic, we can safely conclude that the teddy bears had no knowledge that they were acting as vectors for the virus (sadly, it is unlikely many of the bears even knew what a virus is). Second, the bear must be acting with the intent to harm the child. The show made clear that the bears were merely intending to hug and comfort young children. Third, the bears must have the ability to choose an alternative course of action. While bears are capable of a great many feats, they are largely at the mercy of the people surrounding them. The bears did not choose to associate with the infected nurse, she picked them up. They did not choose to cuddle with children having compromised immune systems, the nurse placed the bears in the arms of the child. The bears were unable to alter the course of the events. All three conditions would have to be true in order for the teddy bears to be to blame for the sickness of the children. Yet, not a single one of them is the case and teddy bears must be considered innocent bystanders.

In contrast, the doctor could see the viruses, as evidence by the zoom from the camera from the doctor's perspective (either that, or the narrative perspective was sloppy). While the doctor and the hospital may not have directly intended to infect the newborns with the virus, it is the duty of the doctor to foresee reasonable hazards patients may encounter. Hiring typhoid Mary was clearly not in the best interests of anyone. Exposing newborns to a crazy lady coughing onto teddy bears is self-evidently a bad idea to any sentient creature with a basic familiarity with the theory of germs. Negligence meets the intent criterion. Finally, the doctor and the hospital could have not hired the disease ridden nurse, kept her away from the maternity ward, provided teddy bears to older children and not newborns, and bathed the bears more frequently. In short, all three criteria are met by the doctor, none by the bears.

It would be nice if the network would apologize for the scurrilous slander towards teddy bears. However, I have learned not to expect network television to concern itself with truth. Sigh.

Monday, December 06, 2004

Bear Dance Party

Most people don't like it when it is cold and gray outside. We bears are different. Why? Because cold and wet days usually mean cuddling under the sheets for us and ain't nothing better than cuddling under the sheets.

Unfortunately, Harriet's employment situation (meaning she is currently employed) means that the bears don't see much cuddling on weekdays. I suppose that Ozzie could stay home, but he doesn't cuddle with us very much. Kinda cold and prickly if you ask me, must be his midwestern upbringing. Don't get me wrong, I like the guy, but I sure don't look to him for my cuddling needs.

Anywho, I figured today would be a good day for a bear dance party. Put on some James Brown and get down. Lobby is hip to it. Moose will zip around, but some of the other bears seem a little uncomfortable shaking their groove thing. I tried demonstrating, but the Goofball is more limber than the average bear. I needed to figure out a way of teaching the wallflowers how to dance.

So I went onto the web. Now that I have more or less mastered the art of typing, the internet is my friend. You can find anything, but I suspect that I would have more fun if I had a credit card (hint, hint -- you know Christmas is coming and the Goofball has been awfully good this year). Well, I couldn't find many dances for stiff guys like Gladstone, but I did find a cool bear dancing in the street.

Break Dancing Bear

The Goofball needs to learn how to dance like that. I don't mean outside, because then I'd get gravel stuck in my fur and need to take a bath. I mean I need to learn how to breakdance. I think I'd look pretty cute doing the robot and the worm.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

This blog totally needs pictures

So like this blog represents my chance for the world to see the real me, but I like totally don't know where to start. Cuz, you know, like how can I show the inner aardvark when the readers can't even see my outer aardvark?

I spend a lot of time on my appearance, so it's a really important part of who I am. I mean I will sit in front of the mirror for hours admiring myself. It takes a lot of time and energy to make my fur look good, cuz like I'm an aardvark and I have hair all over my body. Have you ever tried to brush the base of your tail or the middle of your back? I didn't think so.

At any rate, Ozzie like needs to get off his ass and get photos of me up on the web so everyone can see my hirsute look.

Am I allowed to say "ass" on the blog? *giggle* I hope I don't get busted by some like worked up blogger dude who objects to profanity. I mean that would suck. Can I say "suck?" Like if I can't just say what I am thinking, this blog thing could be a real drag.

One good song deserves another

Um ... I wrote my own song about Notre Dame football.

My dream coach has a first name
it's U-R-B-A-N
My dream coach has a second name
it's M-E-Y-E-R
Oh it's hard to fire loyal Ty
But if you ask me why I'll cry
cuz Urban Meyer betters Ty
with V-I-C-T-O-R-Y

Pretty clever for a bear with stuffin' for brains, don'tchya think?

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

The man fired da man

I can't believe it. Notre Dame fired Tyrone Willingham. My man Ty was one of the best things about South Bend. He gave the Bend (as I have taken to calling it) a certain class and savoir faire that you can't find in a grocery store. Yet, another example of the man taking a good man down.

You might be asking yourself, "Why would Goofball care about college football?" It is true that I have never played football a day in my life. And god willing, I never will play (Ozzie has told horror stories of bears being used AS footballs by small children -- my silky soft fur would be mussed). However, football is a spectator sport and we bears are excellent spectators. In fact, I have spent whole days doing nothing but spectating. Ain't nothin' better than snuggling into a comfy couch under a blanket with Harriet to watch football on a weekend afternoon.

Now, I'm not overly particular about the football I watch. College, pro, it doesn't matter as long as I get cuddling. I figured I would root for the home town team just cuz its the thing to do. But I'm not sure I will be so excited cheering for Urban Meyer. He might be a nice guy, but what kind of screwed up name is that? It sounds like a balogna made in New York City.

Since I know y'all love to hear the Goofball sing, I thought I would offer up this little ditty:

Oh, I wish I had Urban Meyer coaching
That is who we really ought to hire
Cuz if we had Urban Meyer coaching
Our winning record wouldn't be so dire.

That's all from the Goofball. Hang in there Ty, I'm still rooting for you. If you need a hug, stop on by. I'm here all day. Spectating and spectulating in the Bend.