Like get your amazing swag already

So like, oh my god, I'm like totally overwhelmed. This has to be the most exciting day of my life. Like I'm totally going to be famous. I know some of you out there didn't think I could do it, but like there is an entire store devoted to me. Normally, I like totally know what to say and stuff, but I'm so happy I'm at a loss for words.

My goal is to have everyone walking around with an aardvark on their chest. I figure, you know, like I have more talent than Britney and I am cuter, so why can't it be me? Like all those shows about celebrities say work hard, keep the faith, and follow your dreams. Well, that is totally what I am going to do.

We only have one picture of me out at the moment, but like that's only because we just got started. I don't want to overexpose myself and be a flash in the pan, cause like I'm in this for the long haul. I can't put my beautiful face on just any product. So I personally selected each and every product. I haven't like tested them and stuff, because like I don't drink coffee, but they seem pretty good. Like what sort of lame-os would sell a bad coffee mug, right? My favorite product is totally the Jr. Raglan which comes in three colors.

Yes, Mr. Deville, I AM ready for my closeup.

When Ozzie's away, the bears ... um ... nap?

Um ... hello. I'm sorry that the bears have been incommunicado lately. Oof, we've been very busy. You'd think that with Ozzie gone, we'd have more free time to blog, but it just isn't true. Yeah. Um, Ozzie actually takes up a lot of Harriet's time, so we bears can occupy ourselves with other activities. Gladstone ponders his cookie. Buffy looks at herself in the mirror. Pudgie reads. Um, and recently, we blog.

... What's that Duck? ... Yes, we nap as well. We always like napping. It is one of the things we are best at and we enjoy the most. Maybe that is why bears are so happy. Oooh, just think if you liked playing violin and were bad at it. That would be painful for everyone nearby. Harriet likes sleeping, but sometimes she isn't so good at it. You'd think with all of our coaching, maybe she would be better at it.

Um, anyways, with Ozzie gone, we spend more time with Harriet. We like spending time with Harriet, but sometimes she is high maintenance. I sometimes call Ozzie a pillowhead, but he is pretty good at taking care of Harriet. My head gets salty a lot less frequently than it used to.

... What's that George? ... Oooh! You're right. I don't mean to imply that Harriet misses Ozzie too much. She misses him just the right amount. There has been no crying. All I meant to say is that we're not blogging because we don't have things to say. We're just a little busy right now.

But stay tuned .... stay tuned ... staaay tuuuuuned.

How do you like my spooky voice? Scary isn't it?

My deal with Ozzie

I am developing a strong aversion to voter behavior as a subject of inquiry. Quite frankly, I could not care less about the degree to which voting is habit forming or contagious. I suppose I am glad that such topics can be placed on a firm empirical foundation, but the questions seem very small. The life of inquiry should be concerned with the large questions of metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, and social construction. Perhaps one could argue that incremental advances in practical knowledge are what led to the technological revolution that characterizes our current environment. But I am a teddy bear who enjoys reading -- what use do I have for the noisy electronics enjoyed by the contemporary consumer. The technological advancement only serves to degrade popular culture and competes with teddy bears for attention. In short, furthering advancements in practical knowledge is not something I care to pursue as a leisure time activity.

The reason I am opining voting behavior, small questions, and practical knowledge is that Ozzie is in the process of finishing his dissertation. For the next two months he will be devoting all of his energy to such matters as the degree to which freshman roommate cause one another to smoke pot. Unfortunately, this means that I will also be devoting mental energy to such trivialities. After spending twenty years assisting Steven on his work on international development and trade, I was hoping to concern myself with the great works within the Western Canon.

Ozzie has recognized my disappointment and we discussed my desires and ambitions. We ultimately agreed that once Ozzie received tenure, he will reciprocate my efforts and assist me in writing a treatise. I suppose I could write it on my own, except for the fact that I am a scholar of the generation that does not type well. Hunting and pecking with my furry paws is fine for short blog entries, but a book length project might prove impossible.

Newly invigorated, I now spend my idle moments pondering the topic for my first book. An Inquiry Concerning the MetaPhysical Properties of Bears? Or, perhaps, the Political Economic Principles of Teddy Bears.

I will certainly have a while to think it over.

Who's Your Daddy?

Okay, so the other night I was watching TV with Ozzie and we saw this amazing TV show on Fox called Who's Your Daddy? This hot chick was adopted and she wanted to know her biological parents. So Fox rounded up these like 8 random guys to like pretend to be her father and made her guess like which one was her real father. Oh, I suppose like one of the guys wasn't random because he was like totally her father and stuff. Anyway, the hot chic orphan lady doesn't know which guy is the right one. If she guesses the correct guy, then she wins $100,000, so like she could take her newfound father out to dinner or something. If she like doesn't guess the right guy, then the guy who like totally scams her wins $100,000 and the lady still finds out the identity of her real father.

Fox like comes up with totally entertaining ideas for shows. I mean like I feel kind of dirty watching people act out their issues on screen, but then I remind myself that these people like chose to be on the show because they like wanted to be on TV and were totally greedy and stuff. Like, if they wanted to be famous, they should like write for a blog featuring a totally hot aardvark. ;) I don't whether or not I'd go on a reality TV show or some day time talk show like Ricky Lake or Maury or Sally. The only show I know I wouldn't go on is Dr. Phil, because he's like totally an asshole and I know he'd like rag on me for being vain and stuff. Like, I like how I am and I'm not going to apologize for being hot stuff.

Anyway, like the first thing that struck me was that this woman is going to narrate the entire show. I mean like there is no wondering what is going on this orphan lady's head because like she's talking non-stop. She's like one of those totally gross cows with transparent sides so scientist dudes can like see how digestion or something works. Like, people say Fox's reality shows are gross, but science is waaay grosser. I mean like the few times I have been subjected to the discovery channel like they are showing open heart surgery or children with bizarre skin lesions. Okay, so the adopted chic doesn't have any lesions and you can totally tell because she's wearing a low cut dress that shows off her breasts and makes her look hot. I mean, it's not my look, but considering that she is a greedy, neurotic orphan she looks about as good as she can.

And so, she's like talking all the time coming up with reasons for each one of the guys could be her father. Then each time she makes a choice, like she says she knew it all along. Hello, chicky! Like when you come up with reasons for every possible choice, then like you always confirm some of your thinking. Maybe I should let Pudgie drop the knowledge on this, but I think I'm onto something. Anyway, it is totally obvious who her father is. I mean like seven guys are smiling and one guy is looking sad. I don't mean the sad guy looks like a French clown or anything, but he looks like he is regretting his decision to meet his daughter for the first time on a Fox reality show. Or, maybe he was bummed that his daughter was like greedy. You didn't need any of the lame get to know you activities. Just pick the guy who looks like he drank spoiled milk.

So, like the only entertaining thing about the show was watching this lady freak out at every turn. She like bonded with these random dudes and would say lame things like, "I think you could be my father." I think part of the reason I liked the show so much is I identified with the lady. I mean, Harriet adopted me and I don't know who my parents are. It wouldn't bother me at all, but I'm like not even sure of my species, genus, family or order. I mean aardvarks and anteaters look a lot alike, but they are TOTALLY different. Anteaters like live in South America and is like related to armadillos and aardvarks live in Africa and aren't related to anything.

I might like have to write about this later. I'm like totally worn out from all this typing. I mean, my feet aren't exactly set up for being a secretary. I spend a lot of time on my nails and don't want to mess them up, so I like have to touch type with my nose, which I don't mind because it's like sturdy and stuff, but it takes me a long time. I hope my fans appreciate my efforts. This blogging thing is totally a lot more work than I thought it would be. I haven't been contacted by any Hollywood agents yet and I've spent all this time shoving my nose into a keyboard.

Does Heaven have a place for bears?

The other night I overheard a conversation between Harriet and Goofball.

Harriet: What if there are no bears in Heaven?

Goofball: No bears in Heaven?! Would you be happy in a Heaven with no bears?

Harriet: No. I'd be sad. That is what worries me.

Goofball: Then how could it be Heaven? Living without the Goofball would be hell.

Harriet: I know.

Goofball: So don't worry, there must be bears in Heaven.

Grandiose declarations of self-importance aside, Goofball has a point. Bears are an important part of Harriet's life. Harriet misses the bears on long vacations and is happy to see us when she returns. A Heaven without bears would be an eternal vacation with no promise of returning home to those who love her. Harriet would not be happy in a state of being without bears.

In the Christian tradition (it is somewhat more complicated in the Jewish tradition), Heaven is regarded as an ethereal abode of complete bliss and delight. Virtuous souls are rewarded for proper behavior on Earth with eternal salvation and residence with God and the angels. Unfortunately, given that souls are noncorporeal, Heaven is generally conceived as a place transcending matter and time. Thus, physical objects such as cars and stereo systems are unlikely to be the rewards of Heaven since they are physically constituted.

How then, might bears and their polyester filling fit into such a conception of Heaven? A number of avenues present themselves as back doors into Heaven for bears.

First, Heaven is frequently thought to be a place where the deceased can join her family and friends for eternity. If Saint Peter allows anything like a Friends and Family Plan, then bears will most certainly be allowed in Heaven. The bears are an important part of Harriet's family.

Second, perhaps bears possess souls. Free will is a complicated subject with regards to bears (and one I will touch upon at some point in the future), but it is possible that we possess souls. We have distinct personalities. We makes choices (e.g., to nap or to read Plato). We choose to give ourselves to others. At the very least, it is plausible that bears possess souls and it is impossible to definitively declare the contrary. If bears have souls, would they merit entry into Heaven? While it is possible that there may be a bad bear in the world, every bear I have met has been decent and kind and loving and gives freely of himself. Bears have no vices such as smoking or drinking or adultery. The whole point of being a bear is to love and comfort an individual with almost no regard for personal safety (hence, the scruffy bears who belong to young children). If bears have souls, then they definitely merit admission into Heaven.

Third, even if bears do not have souls, their essence is inherently noncorporeal. Prior to finding an owner, a bear is nothing more than a pile of stitches and polyester. The flickering of personality and caring is there, but it is not until a bear is owned by a person that the personality can develop and be expressed. Hence, a bear and its person are inextricably linked. Even when the polyester body that inspired the personality of the bear is not present, the person can take comfort in her bear. Wagsy has been known to appear like a guardian angel when Harriet is on vacation. The linkage is more emotional than physical. Thus, the ethereal nature of Heaven is no barrier to a bear. You can't take it (meaning money, boats and cars) with you, but the love of a bear can go anywhere.

Finally, it is entirely possible that Heaven allows for corporeal rewards. The eternal feast of Valhalla for the Vikings would seem to require food and drink and a big table. The lengthy list of foods to be provided to Islamic martyrs also would imply that physical objects have a place in Heaven. If such objects as food and drink are allowed, then I can see no logical reason to assume that teddy bears would not be allowed either. In which case, Heaven can have bears if she wants it to.

So fear not, Harriet, there is probably a place in Heaven for bears. The problem with notions of the afterlife is that they defy claims of a definitive nature. However, all Earthly signs point towards room in Heaven for the furry.

Reflections on the New Year

Um ... Happy New Year! New Years is usually good time for the bears. Harriet has time off, so we get more cuddling. The weather is cold, so we get more cuddling. Unfortunately, this year Harriet is working on her dissertation and it is warm outside. So we haven't had much cuddling. You won't hear a word of complaint out of the bears, because it is our job to support Harriet, but we're a little disappointed.

Now that I have a blog, I feel obligated to say something seasonal. If I ate food, perhaps I could offer a recipe for tasty cinnamon rolls. But I only eat pillows (and occassionally Harriet's ear) and I don't cook much -- flour and butter are bad for the fur. I could talk about the snow, but it is raining and gross outside, so I pretty much stay in the bed. Oooh ... coming up with something seasonal is hard.

Bears aren't much into self-improvement, but reporting everyone's new year's resolutions seems a good way to go.

I resolve to:
a) Nap;
b) Maintain my plump figure;
c) Pounce on Harriet whenever I get the chance;
d) Take good care of my bunny, George;
e) Say nice things about Ozzie.
That last one is going to be hard if he keeps on being a pillowhead.

Moose resolves to say "Moose!"

Platy resolves to stay round, brown, and upside down.

Um ... as I said, bears aren't much into self-improvement. We're pretty happy with the way we are (unless we're being picked up by one leg). I hope you, the reader, are happy with the way you are this year, too.