Furry Thoughts for Fuzzy Times

Platypus Studies

2008-05-09T21:49:00.006-04:00

Hi. I read the newspaper this afternoon. I liked this article. I like articles about Platypuses. If went to school, I'd major in Platypus studies. I learned a lot about myself from this article.

I am only 82% mammal. I don't know what the other 18% is. Maybe reptile. I like the Gecko who sells insurance. He seems nice.

I have a strong sense of smell. I knew that already. Our whole house smells of diapers. Always. We live in a stinky house.

I can detect electric fields with my bill. I'm not quite sure what that means, but it sounds neat. Are electric fields where they grow light bulbs?

I make venom. That makes me dangerous. Maybe this is why women like me. Buffy says I need a leather jacket to complete the look.

I don't have nipples. Teddy bears don't pay much attention to anatomy. But this fact might be useful some day. Maybe someone will need a nipple transplant. I won't be able to help, so I shouldn't volunteer.

People thought platypuses were a joke at first. But they were wrong.

I am not a joke. I am a platypus. I am a dangerous, electric field sensing, leather jacket wearing, nipple-less heart throb.

The kid knows my name

2008-05-09T21:17:00.004-04:00

Hi there. I am a multi-faceted bear. I'm suave, debonaire and a bon vivant. I'm also a big old softy and a sucker for a cute kid. Right now, I'm over the moon because Ricky knows my name. Yeah, he does. I'm not kidding. He says "Goofball!" and gives me a big hug. I like it when he buries his face in my belly.

Wagsy: (giggle)

And I have my own song. When Ricky hears Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" he calls "Goofball!" and we waltz. Ah, shucks. I know it sounds corny, but it is really sweet. And it is an honor to have such a classic known as "Goofball song."

Wagsy: (giggle)

What is so funny, Wagsy?

Wagsy: Um ... nothing.

Come on, out with it dog. What are you laughing about?

Wagsy: Um ... Ricky doesn't say "Goofball."

Sure he does. He knows my name. "Goofball dance." "Goofball sleep."

Wagsy: He says (giggle) ... um ... he calls you ... (giggle) ... Boopball!

No he doesn't. He calls me Goofball.

Wagsy: Yeah, yeah, he calls you Boopball.

Okay he's not even two yet. Not every word is going to sound just right. I know what he means. Boop means Goof.

Wagsy: Um ... it also means ... um ... um ... poo.

No. No, it doesn't.

Wagsy: Yeah, yeah, it does. Ricky "boops" in his diaper.

That can't be right. I refuse to believe that Ricky associates me with feces.

Wagsy: Um ... I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

No you're not. You think this is funny. Admit it.

Wagsy: Um ... I think this is hilarious.

Ugh. ... Huh. ... Way to ruin my mood, Wagsy. Equating my name to poo kinda takes the sheen off "my trees of green and red roses, too." ... Phooey.

Pudgie: Hi, Goofball. I couldn't help but over hearing your conversation with Wagsy.

What you want to make fun of me, too? Go ahead. Yuck it up at my expense. Laugh at the Goofball.

Pudgie: No. I thought I would offer an alternative interpretation of the young Ricky's vocabulary. Boop means more than one thing in Ricky's lexicon.

Wagsy: Shhh. Shhh. Don't tell him, Pudgie.

Don't tell me what? Out with it, professor!

Pudgie: Boop also means kiss.

Really? You're not just saying that.

Pudgie: My careful observations of Ricky's language development leads me to believe that boop can mean either osculation or excrement depending upon the context. And you are always the referent to the word Boopball.

Wow. That is pretty cool, man.

Wagsy: Oooh, you told him.

And you knew this, Wagsy? Why did you try to bring me down?

Wagsy: Um ... I just thought it was funny that you were so excited about being called Boopball.

Well it is closer to Goofball than what he calls you ... Woo-hoo.

Wagsy: Oh, I like that name. Woo-hoo. And he smiles so sweetly when he says it.

I gotta say the little guy is pretty cute. I was a little suspicious of having him around at first, but now I like him.

Wagsy: Um ... I just wish he wouldn't jump up and down on me.

Yeah, that doesn't look good for the stitches.

Wagsy: Um ... it isn't so bad when I am on my back, but when I am snout down ... oooh ... the stuffing starts to suffer.

Ruinous! Simply ruinous!

2008-02-03T20:21:00.000-05:00

I would just like to state for the record that this year of research leave has been simply ruinous for the bear finances. Not only are bears supporting two households, but someone saw fit to hand Buffy a credit card for emergencies before she headed off on her cruise. Apparently a desire for Sergio to deliver champaign flutes of mango sorbet at 2am constitutes an emergency.
I am shocked and appalled by the fiscal laxity that has been on display.

Office Living

2008-02-03T20:13:00.000-05:00

I thought I might be one of the smartest people in the household because people were always telling me that I was special. When Ozzie took me to his office I thought it was because he respected me. Then he tried to get me to code data. I don't feel honored anymore.

Intemperate thoughts on babies

2008-02-03T20:00:00.000-05:00

Hi there. This year I have been subjected to grave injustices. I have been drooled on, dragged around by my foot, and force fed a bottle. My fur is matted and I am not sure how I got a sticky substance behind my ear. I used to watch TV every night with Harriet and hang out with Ozzie watching sports. Now there is no TV and I am lucky to be in the bed for story time.

That said, it is all worth it when Ricky gives me a hug and a kiss. The little guy is cute and I am a sucker for cute.

Finally back to civilization

2008-02-03T19:35:00.000-05:00

Oh my god, it is so good to be back in civilization. So Amelia and I went on this cruise that was like supposed to be totally amazing. But like the boat went Minnow on us. Amelia and I were just like Ginger and Maryann only there wasn't a hunky professor or a millionaire. Like it was way better cuz there was a rock climbing team on board who apparently lost all their shirts when the boat sank. You know how people ask those totally annoying questions about what books you'd bring if you were stranded on a desert island? After having spent a ton of time on a desert island recently, I gave a lot of thought to that question and decided that the Boy Scout Handbook would have come in handy. But what is way better than any book is having a dreamy rock climbing team on the island with you. Oh my god. Blue Lagoon was a really romantic movie, but think how much better it would have been with the cast of 300 walking around shirtless.

Anywho, the cruise line was totally embarrassed that their boat sunk and offered to put Amelia and I up at a totally swank resort they owned if we didn't sue. Like Amelia and I snapped that deal up faster than we lick up ants. So now we're sipping daquiris brought by a cute cabana boy.

I'll post more when I feel like it. Right now, I'm gonna get a massage from Rodrigo.

Super Bowl Sunday

2008-02-03T19:14:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! Ricky is in bed, Harriet is in the recliner, the cheesecake butt (aka Ozzie) is stuffed full of apple pie, so the bears were allowed to sit on the couch and watch the Super Bowl! Ooh, I'm very excited. We haven't been watching much TV lately and ... um ... I'm not sure why. Harriet is pregnant and due in a few weeks, so her brain has turned to oatmeal. And ... um ... Ozzie has been a tired and grumpy pillow-head for months. I don't think he'd object to anything if we left him to work or sleep. I kinda feel bad for him, but that won't stop me from sitting on his belly and watch the Super Bowl.

Um ... so who is playing? Anyone good?

The Bears are okay

2007-08-14T23:00:00.000-04:00

Um ... hello! A few of you have wondered how the bears are adjusting to life with baby Ricky. Ooh! We have so many stories to tell. Sadly, no one in the house has the energy to help us tell them. Babies are verrry tiring. But ... um ... they are a lot more fun than I thought.

I like getting hugged by Ricky. He's a little sticky sometimes, but he is very sweet. Ozzie never hugs me or buries his face in my belly. Oooh, it tickles. I also like story time. We've read some very nice books about animals going to sleep and animals splashing and how animals feel. Um ... I don't know why so many baby books are about animals, but it is very nice. It is almost enough to make up for the fact that we don't have cable, so we don't have Animal Planet (hint, hint, Ozzie. You promised us cable.).

Um ... I don't like drinking milk. Not one bit. It is messy and gets milk into my fur. I will have to visit the bear spa soon.

Luckily, I don't have to bear the burden by myself. We have a new hero ... Donkey! He's Ricky's favorite bear. Ricky won't sleep without him and drags him around by the house by the ears. Or by the nose. Or by the belly. Um ... basically, Donkey gets dragged around the house a whole lot.

Donkey looks very handsome in this photo. Um ... unfortunately Donkey doesn't look quite so shiny anymore. Or clean. Um ... donkey has a distinct odor attached to him that the bear spa can't quite remove. These are the reasons that Donkey won the M.V.B. this year in a landslide. Yeah, yeah. We all agreed there was not a more valuable bear in the household.

Um ... maybe we'll post again. I hope so. We miss the blog. But ... um ... we also miss sleep and down time, too.

Ooh, being a teddy bear in a house with a baby is a lot of work.

Book Review: Water, Water Everywhere

2007-03-20T23:23:00.000-04:00

Sigh. This blog should fall into receivership given its lack of attention. With all the energy in the household, I am dismayed that the job of rekindling the blog fire falls to a tired old professor. Being tired and old and a professor, this post shall consist primarily of a book review.

Defying all expectations, the number of books read in this household has skyrocketed in the past few months. Harriet still reads weather-beaten paperback mysteries to fall asleep, but she reads fewer and fewer pages each night. Ozzie's bookshelf is full of classic works of literature, but I have yet to see him read one. Needless to say, Ricky is the source of the literary renaissance in the household.

I had hoped that I could tutor young Ricky to be a young scholar; well versed in the classics. It would be unreasonable to expect an infant to understand Habermas. Aristotle is a more reasonable starting point. Alas, Ricky shows no taste for the ancient Greeks. My beloved Penguin edition of The Politics has been chewed and torn, but never engaged intellectually.

One hypothesis I considered was that non-fiction may be too dry to hold the attention of those under the age of 2. I briefly entertained visions of reading Ricky Don Quixote and The Inferno. These classic tales should grip the imagination of intellectuals of all ages. Sadly, these books were cast aside for a plastic phone whose pathetic refrain is "I love you, so much!" Upon being rudely rebuffed, I concluded that Ricky is not a scholar.

Being a good empiricist, I watched Ricky over several days and noticed that he does in fact read many books. I use the term "book" loosely, as Ricky enjoys books with parts to grab and pull and generally use a toy rather than as a conduit of knowledge. The only exception to this rule of grabbing and interacting were the books Ricky reads in the bathtub. These books are smooth with nothing more than words and pictures. Ricky will sit mesmerized by these books for minutes on end, flipping forward and back with intense concentration. So I decided to pick up one of the works and read it cover to cover.

After spending the two minutes it took to read the book, I concluded that Water, Water, Everywhere is about as far from The Old Man and the Sea as is humanly possible. I fear that statement is inaccurate since only a corporation could create an abomination such as Water, Water, Everywhere. For there is no "author". Rather the "concept" came from Julie Aigner-Clark. I will not judge the quality of Ms. Aigner-Clark's concept for it may have been botched in execution by Baby Einstein (an oxymoron if ever there was one).

The irony and literary allusion in the title promises an engaging read. I thought the Baby Einstein company was slyly referencing Coleridge's Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner's "Water, water, everywhere nor any drop to drink." The quote would be apropos given that the book is intended to be read in the bathtub and one should not drink bath water. Sadly, the title is the highlight of the book.

The rhymes are insipid, the meter is inconsistent, and the punctuation is atrocious. Dashes and elipses are used in places where periods would clearly suffice with no hint of poetic intent behind the grammatical faux pas. Here is the first page reprinted in its entirety:

Water, water everywhere ...
Water, near and far --
Let's use our hands and feet to count
How many kinds there are!

The last line is a red herring in that there is nothing to count in the six pages of text that follow. Given such tight constraints on verbiage, one cannot afford to waste lines on topics that are never pursued. On second thought, the space would simply be used for over wrought prose that should never have been written in the first place so relevance is besides the point. For example,

Waterfalls with misty breath
Whisper as they flow ...
Frozen water turns to ice,
And flakes form out of snow.

Flakes do not form out of snow. Snow is a crystalline aggregate of water ice crystals that often have hexagonal symmetry. That is, a flake. And while I am hardly puritanical, I am not entirely sure that I want young Ricky reading about whispering "misty breath."

In summary, I do not highly recommend Water, Water, Everywhere and cannot fathom why Ricky reads such rubbish.

A Dilemma

2007-01-20T21:33:00.000-05:00

Hey there. How ya been? I've been okay. Cuddling gets interrupted in the middle of the night, but I have learned that getting drooled on isn't so bad. Ricky is a disgusting child with sticky hands and a stickier face, but despite all that he's kinda cute. I'm serious, the kid scores high on the cute factor. And as much as I want to stay away from him, it is hard not to want to hug him. Babies are strange that way.

But that isn't why I needed to post. We have a dilemma in this household. Who should we root for this weekend? The Bears or the Saints? On the one hand, we're teddy bears, so we should root for the Bears, right? It seems natural.

On the other hand, New Orleans was destroyed by an epic hurricane and is still struggling to support itself. As far as I know, Chicago is doing okay for itself. Sure Marshall Fields closed, but there is still the Lincoln Park Zoo and the Cubs are nowhere near winning the World Series. It is nothing like New Orleans where everything outside of the French Quarter looks like a war zone. New Orleans needs to win more than Chicago, right? So being benevolent bears, we should root for New Orleans.

I know that I used to root for the Packers and no true Packers fan can root for the Bears or the Vikings. But that reasoning doesn't apply to the rest of the guys in the household (and girls, thanks, Amelia). And besides, I don't have strong roots with the Packers. I'm from China where we don't really play football. I know I don't look Asian, but I am. Trust me, that little tag on my tush says so. I needed to adopt a team and the Packers seemed a good one to root for. Small market, cold weather, and no jerk billionaire owner. I thought it was a perfect fit, but then Brett Favre stuck around about two years too many. There is no drama when you know every close game will be lost because of a ridiculous interception. None. Zippo. We're talkin' less drama than Comedy Central's weeknight programming. And I don't care how much "fun" he's having out there, I'm not enjoying it. So I might have to adopt a new team. But that doesn't matter for everyone else in the household who wants to watch the game tomorrow. We have a dilemma on our hands.

I tried to get Pudgie to think it over through one of his Socratic dialogues, but he refused. He said something about football not being "a worthy application of his intellectual abilities." I think Pudgie is just bitter that Romo blew the hold and the Cowboys lost. I shared that opinion with Pudgie and he decided to no longer share his presence with me. I think he might still be mad at me because he raises his book a little higher each time I walk by. I thought that was funny, so I kept pacing back and forth until the book was pretty much smashed up against Pudgie's face and he stormed out of the room again.

Saints or Bears? Bears or Saints? Encouraging the flagship ursine sports franchise or pulling for the downtrodden residents of New Orleans. Seems kinda selfish to root for the Bears. Teddy bears aren't going anywhere. Teddy bears were popular long before the advent of the Chicago Bears and the rise of modern technologies have made us no less popular. We don't need additional brand name recognition. New Orleans needs something to feel good about.

So I think we should root for the Saints.

Zombie Attack

2006-12-15T22:31:00.000-05:00

H-h-h-i-i-i. Hi. Hi. ... Is this thing on?

Wagsy: Um ... if you're typing and words are appearing, then it is on.

Platy: I don't type. I don't have fingers. Ozzie is typing for me.

Wagsy: Um ... well ... if Ozzie is typing, then the computer is probably on.

Platy Are you sure? His eyes aren't open.

Wagsy: Um ... the platypus makes a good point. Um ... hello! Ozzie!! Helllooooo, Ozzie!

Ozzie: I'm right here, Wagsy. And I might be tired, guys, but I know when the computer is on.

Wagsy: Um ... okay, he's awake. Go ahead, Platy.

Platy: I don't know if I want to go now. I'm scared.

Wagsy: Um ... what are you scared of?

Platy What if people don't like my post?

Wagsy: Don't be scared, Platy. You've posted before and they were very nice posts. I'm sure people will like your post. Um ... what did you want to say?

Platy: I wanted to do my impersonation.

Wagsy: Um ... who did you want to impersonate?

Platy: Everyone.

Wagsy: Um ... that sounds ... um ... ambitious.

Platy: It is a good impersonation.

Wagsy: Okay, ... um ... why don't you do it then? We'd all like to see a good impersonation.

Platy Okay. Okay. (Look of deep platypusian concentration) Okay. (Look of deep platypusian confusion) Are you ready?

Wagsy: Yes.

Platy: Then why don't you go?

Platy: Um ... because I am not the one who was going to do an impersonation. You were going to do an impersonation.

Platy: Okay. I thought you might have one, too. Impersonating people is fun. One time, I impersonated Professor Pudge Bear and got a free meal at a fancy restaurant where men looked like sandwichs and the women looked like wilted flowers. But --

Wagsy: Um ... um ... I don't think I've heard that story before. Um ... maybe we should get on with your impersonation of everyone before Ozzie falls asleep.

Platy: Okay, here is my impersonation of everyone. (Imagine the concentration and outstretched arms of a platypus diving at the Olympics) Grains. Graaaaaa-innnnnns. Graaaaaa-innnnnnns! Grains!

Wagsy: Um ... are you okay, Platy?

Platy: I'm fine. That was my impersonation.

Wagsy: Um ... who were you in impersonating?

Platy: Everyone. ... You didn't like it?

Wagsy: Oooh, oooh, don't cry. Don't cry. Oooh! I made him cry. Um ... no, no, it was a very nice impersonation. ... um ... Help me out here, Ozzie.

Ozzie: Don't look at me. I'm just the typist.

Wagsy: Big help you are, pillowhead. Um ... you really sounded ... um ... frog-like?

Platy: You're just saying that. (sniff)

Wagsy: Um ... no. You really did sound like a frog. Um ... a creepy frog in search of grain. Um ... a creepy, tired, hungry frog. Um ... were you pretending to be a zombie, Platy?

Platy: I told you that I had a good impersonation of everyone.

Wagsy: Oooh, ooh, I get it. Verrry clever, Platy. Yes, everyone has been acting like a zombie. Um ... sleeping hasn't been very easy since Ricky arrived.

Platy: I like it because I am the smartest one in the house now.

Wagsy: Um ... um ... I want to disagree with you, but you might be right. Everyone definitely seems out of it. Why does the crying not bother your sleep?

Platy: I hide.

Wagsy: Oooh! Very good idea. Um ... where do you hide to get away from the crying, Platy? I've tried to find a place in the house to take a nice long nap, but there seems to be crying everywhere.

Platy: I'm not telling you because I'm brown, I'm round, and I can't be found.

Wagsy: Um ... it isn't very nice of you not to share your hiding place, Platy, but ... um ... I guess I understand.

Platy: Was this a good post, Wagsy?

Wagsy: Um ... I think it was, Platy. But your impersonation could use a little work. Zombies want brains, not grains.

Platy: I know they want brains. That is why I am the smartest person in the house.

Bear Blogs

2006-12-14T21:31:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! I thought I would get caught up on all the bear blogs out there in the world. Oooh, many people have written to us, but we haven't had the time to write to anyone. That is the problem with having big comfy paws. They aren't so good for typing. Um ... having stuffing for brains doesn't help either. And ... Mr. "I took over the house and drool constantly" hasn't exactly helped our productivity. Um ... basically we're behind. And I'm a teddy bear who likes to nap, so I must be really behind.

Let's see ... um ... ooh, ooh, Teddy and Spaulding wrote us a very sweet letter welcoming Ricky to the world. Um ... it was a very nice letter, but they showed a little more enthusiasm for the baby than we have. I guess it is easy to have enthusiasm for a baby that doesn't kick you out of the bed and halt all napping.

Um ... oooh, oooh! My bunny George has a new favorite blog.
Gage the Bunny must be a relative of George's. Oooh, he looks just like George only he's a little more gray. Gage travels around and takes lots of adorable pictures. And sometimes he stays at home and takes adorbale pictures. Gage has a live-in girlfriend named Rabbit, who doesn't look much like a rabbit to me. Um ... I think he might be a little more academic than my George, but maybe I am syaing that because Gage wears glasses.

Pig and Bear are very cute friends who travel around England. They post lots of pictures from their travels. They even went to Africa. Oooh, they are so much more adventerous than I am. I'd spend all the time being concerned about my fur.

Um ... I've also been reading the blog of Bob T. Bear, esq. Oooh, he's a well travelled bear who likes routine in his life. Every day he notes whether he watches the Simpsons or goes to Tesco's (our relatives in England tell me it is a grocery store) and he rates his hugs for the day. I think it is a very good idea to keep track of these things. Um ... how else can you make your person feel guilty for ignoring you when a baby comes around?

And ... um ... I know it isn't a blog, really, but I very much enjoy the Eldritch the Dragon's pictures. He's verrry cute, and so is his little brother. Um ... there are a lot of cute teddy bears posting pictures on Flickr and we've made friends with a few of them. Unfortunately, most of the pictures recently have been of baby Ricky and not us.

Um ... we've been reading other blogs, too, but the typist is getting tired -- pillowhead. If you know of other good teddy bear blogs, put them in the comments sectiona and we'll add them to our "Links" section. You can never have too many blogging teddy bears!

Dancing with the Stars

2006-11-16T23:20:00.000-05:00

Okay, so like we're in some sort of TV Renaissance or something cuz there are like a ton of shows that are a must watch. Project Runway is like waaay compelling. I mean how could a show fail when it combines fashion, catty remarks, models, fashion, designers, and more fashion. It's like almost perfect. Grey's Anatomy is also hot because it features all these good looking people who are given smart things to say. Oh my god, it might not sound like an achievement, but it is totally rocket science and way above the Hollywood norm. Like nearly every sitcom features some dumpy looking moron who is miraculously married to a totally smoking hot and with-it babe who puts up with the moron's juvenile antics. As if. Like I know Wonder Woman didn't really come from an island of teched up Amazons, but if such a place existed, it would be populated with women who escaped life as sitcom wives. So Grey's Anatomy gets a Buffy snout of approval.

But one of my favorite shows ended last night with the season finale of Dancing with the Stars. I was going to live blog it for those of you without TV or anything, but I was so caught up in the action that I totally forgot to type. And typing is like waaay hard for me, so maybe it was a good thing that I forgot, cuz it might have ruined my enjoyment of the spectacle or something. So why do I like Dancing with the Stars?

1) Like the most obvious reason is that it involves celebrities and that always catches my eye.

2) Even better, it draws on C-List celebrities who are amusing and easy to root for. I mean, come on, Joey Lawrence is like just looking for a cameo in a real film or a recurring character in a sitcom that will be cancelled. How could I not find his desperate effort to win a dance competition gripping? And it is kinda fun to see what they look like now. Did every failed teenage actor hit the gym thinking big muscles would help them land parts? What is the deal? Or did Mario Lopez make so much money on Saved by the Bell that he doesn't need to work and can spend all his time in the gym.

3) And since I am a semi-C-List star myself, I could totally picture myself on the show in a couple of years. The only problem is that I don't know what the judges would think of me. I mean, my posture is fine for a four legged aardvark, but my back isn't totally vertical or anything. And like I have four feet, which means I would have to learn twice as many dance steps as a normal contestant. And my tail might get in the way, sorta like Jerry Springer's age or Sara Evans' lack of coordination or rhythm.

4) The dancers are brutally hot and a few of the contestants are cute, too. Always a plus. But they should totally take out the older male contestants. If I wanted to see overly tanned, nasty old men dance poorly, I would book a trip on a Carnival Cruise or something.

5) And the dancers are hot, but the costumes are ridiculous. Oh my god, could the women look a little more trampy? I don't think so. And the guys look like mannequins dressed by a near-sighted leprechaun from the Castro. The fashion disaster in each dance never fails to make me happy.

6) It is always fun to guess which partners are couples. And if they aren't couple, how hard is the dancer trying to couple and how mad is the husband or wife of the contestant?

And that is just like a short list of why I love Dancing with the Stars. And I haven't gotten to the lame dancing so stilted you expect the rest of the high school juggling team to drop by. Like the show is a total tour de force.

And I was psyched that Emmitt Smith won. I've never watched football or anything, but he seemed really nice and totally devoted to his family. I can completely respect that. And Mario was like totally the opposite. I mean, it was tragic watching Karina talk about how the relationship was forever when Mario kept saying he'd have good memories of the show. You could tell that Karina thought it was love and Mario was wondering what Eva Longoria was doing that night. Mario is a heartless punk. Period.

Since I don't know much about football, like I thought I'd bring in Goofball to comment on the show. Hey, Goofball, you like wanna tell the audience about Emmitt Smith and his performance in Dancing with the Stars?

Goofball: Why am I being dragged into this?

Buffy: Cuz like you know lots of stuff about football and might be able to round out Emmitt Smith's history for us?

Goofball: Emmitt looked plenty round without my help.

Buffy: As if. Emmitt was totally ripped and you could tell that he still works out.

Goofball: I could not possibly care less about that show.

Buffy: Like I'm surprised at you, Goofball. I thought the show would be right up your alley. You dance.

Goofball: Yes, I do have some smooth moves in my repertoire.

Buffy: And you like football, don't you?

Goofball: I have been known to prognosticate and pontificate on the subject. I am have even opined from time to time.

Buffy: So like what is the deal? Why don't you enjoy the cultural masterpiece that was put on your plate every Tuesday and Wednesday evening?

Goofball: Let me ask you a question, Buffy. Do you like ants?

Buffy: Yeah, I am an aardvark afterall.

Goofball: And you like modelling, right?

Buffy: Like why are you wasting my time stating the obvious?

Goofball: Would you like to model clothing made out of ants?

Buffy: What type of weirdo scenario would lead to that? I mean I guess it would be okay. My fur would protect me from any bites and if I got hungry during the shoot, I would always raise the hemline by eating a few ants. So I guess it would be okay. Maybe it would be fun once.

Goofball: Okay, so that didn't work out like I expected. You like makeup, too, right? So what about makeup made out of ants? Or ants wearing makeup? How about that, huh?

Buffy: What's your damage?

Goofball: All I'm trying to say is that football and ballroom dancing are not like the proverbial chocolate and peanut butter. Unlike things do not always go well together. There is a reason they are unlike.

Buffy: And your point is ...?

Goofball: Watching the legendary Emmitt Smith prance around stage dressed as a holiday themed Chippendale made me sad. I don't care if he won or not. No one is a winner when Emmitt Smith is wearing green sparkly shoes, a vest, and bright green arm bands.

Buffy: I thought it was awesome and hilarious.

Goofball: It's unAmerican! Football is our national religion and one of the prophets of running backs has been sacreligious -- perhaps even heretical!

Buffy: Wow. You need to chill, Goofball. If I would have known that you would wig out in my post and everything, I wouldn't have invited you to join in.

Goofball: I didn't want to say anything, but you put me on the spot. Now that I have the megaphone, I would just like to say that the judging had less integrity than professional figure skating. Talk about rigged.

Buffy: You're like a total downer today, Goofball. I'm going to have to end this post. I still think Dancing with the Stars is completely awesome. It's get an extra special samba-themed Buffy snout of approval.

Another Election Down, Tenure to Go

2006-11-11T21:43:00.000-05:00

The words "frustration" and "futility" can most aptly summarize my activities for the past few months. Any lingering hopes that my plight may improve dwindle each day.

There was a time in my life when I enjoyed elections. The exercise of democracy should constitute an inspiring occasion to celebrate human autonomy and the capacity for collective action. My classical training and general demeanor might suggest that I suscribe to Straussian / Platonic suspicions of democracy, but in fact, I acknowledge the empirical evidence that history provides in support of democratic decision making as a check upon poor governance. Somewhere deep inside my stuffing, I still believe that elections are good and important.

However, serving as Ozzie's academic mentor has stripped all personal joy from the election cycle. His work is so mind-numbingly dull to execute that I often find myself envying the plush hoi polloi lounging in front of the television watching Brother Bear. After negotiating and planning with so many groups planning to mobilize voters, I wonder if tired adage, "those who can't, teach" ought to be appended, "and those who can't think, politick." I bemoan the uncurious nature of my fellow teddy bears, but perhaps I should change my frame of reference and praise those I reluctantly call my family and colleagues. My observations over the past few years have led me to conclude that political campaigns run by teddy bears would be more effective, less expensive, and more high minded than those run by so-called "professional consultants." Even bears whose entire vocabularies consistent of one syllable, such as Moose --

Moose: Moose!

Er ... exactly. Even these bears would manage to raise the level of political discourse. I make this claim with no sense of hyperbole and deep regret. Ozzie has promised that once he is granted tenure, we will take a break from voter mobilization and he will assist me in writing my book: The Political Economy of Teddy Bears.

Since Election Day has passed, I can relax ever so slightly and turn my attention towards my other duties. The most critical of these is educating Ricky. Initially, I had high hopes that my efforts would craft a well-rounded scholar. However, I find after five months than my tutelage is for naught. Ricky's most developed talent is drooling and he lacks the discipline to focus on the project at hand. More than a few times, I have found my lectures interupted by slimy hands grabbing and chewing my notes or, even worse, myself. Quite simply put, educating under such circumstances is impossible.

I do not believe that my expectations are unrealistic. The zebras were feral when they arrived in our household. The zebras were a noisome, unkempt, and uncouth lot. However, after much effort, I managed to, first, tame the zebras, and then, in a feat of Pygmalian perfection, taught a zebra to read and write. I will admit that grammar and refinement are not yet the hallmarks of Taylor's prose, but he has made mighty strides in just a few months. Surely, if I can teach a zebra to dress himself, read and write in five months, a human child should be able to at the very minimum replicate the skills.

At least, the zebra didn't drool on me or chew on my nose. It is hard to maintain an aura of gravitas when your nose is being chewed upon.

Moose: Moose!

Sigh ... exactly.

Toy Testing or Indiscretion?

2006-11-02T23:43:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello. I liked reading Goofball's excellent post about testing toys, but I thought something was missing. It's hard to figure out what is missing when you have stuffin' for brains. Then a little bird flew into the room and tipped me off ...

The bird was Goofball! Yeah, yeah, he dressed up as a chicken. Harriet thought he looked cute, but ... um ... everyone else thought he looked ... um ... ridiculous.

Um ... I think he enjoyed it. I wonder why he didn't post these pictures.

The Life and Times of Goofball Revisited

2006-10-28T21:57:00.000-04:00

I closed the door, so as to avoid any interuptions from the peanut gallery. The question at hand is, "What have I been doing with my time these past few months?" That is an excellent question and I'm glad that I asked it.

While some of the bears have busied themselves with watching TV, napping, staring out the window, or whining about life changes, I've been making myself useful around the house. I don't mean that I have been cooking or cleaning or changing diapers because I haven't been doing any of that stuff. If it involves a liquid, I'm staying away. That isn't exactly a credo, but as a rule of thumb it as served me well and I stand by it.

Anywho, I've been trying to make sure that Ricky is safe. There are a lot of new toys around the house and it is important to make sure that they won't malfunction and hurt Ricky. At first, I wasn't too psyched about this duty. To be honest, I got roped into it. During a seminar conducted by Pudgie and entitled, "Drool: Viscous, Vicious and Factitious," we decided to stop complainin' and support Ozzie and Harriet in their exhaustion. Someone moved to take a nap, the motion was seconded, and we all settled in to take a nap. When I woke up, everyone told me that I had been nominated to test out all the toys. I protested, but they said I was the most baby sized bear and there was no going back.

So I reluctantly began my duties. But truth be told, I liked it from the word go. Some baby toys are fun and if anyone caught me hanging out and enjoying myself, I could always say I was doing it for little Ricky. Plausible deniability are magic words, my friend. Check out the Exer-saucer.

Honestly, who wouldn't enjoy playing in the Exer-Saucer? It is a finely constructed machine. There are nifty toys to play with and if you get bored with one toy, turn your head and there is another toy to keep you occupied. One afternoon, I lost track of time and skipped a nap. Now THAT is a sign of quality.

However cool the Exer-Saucer might be, it pales in comparison to Rutherford.

If you didn't notice from the picture, Rutherford is an elephant. He's pretty big for a bear. Nice guy. Not many people are fun loving but also convey an air of seriousness and gravitas. Best of all, Rutherford is a riding elephant. I was gonna grab my cowboy hat, but Gladstone pointed out that perhaps a turban would be more appropriate since Rutherford was obviously from India. Rutherford doesn't sound like an Indian name, but you can't ride African elephants, so Gladstone must be right. I didn't want to offend the new member of the household, so I opted not to wear any head gear.

I have to say that riding Rutherford is a blast. You can go slow and you can go fast and Rutherford always makes sure you never fall over. I suppose an over exuberant child could tip backwards, but I didn't have the ballast to manage that feat. The experience was exhilerating. And who wouldn't want to spend time with a good natured fellow like Rutherford?

I was feeling friendly towards Rutherford, so I wrote him this limerick:

There once was a Jumbo from Dehli,
whose laughs came from deep in his belly.
He walked round the house,
was scared by a mouse
and his legs quivered like jelly.

I thought it was funny because it played off the sterotype that elephants are afraid of mice. I realize it isn't original, but it is novel because I am a teddy bear writing a limerick. Do you know of other teddy bears writing limericks? If you do, send them my way. Until then, sit back and enjoy the teddy bear poetry.

Rutherford didn't think it was so funny. He looked a little stunned and walked away. I felt bad and was going to apologize, but them Platy passed me this note from Rutherford:

There once was a bear named Ghirardelli
Whose paws were really smelly.
The stench wouldn't leave
and made his friends heave
Make another mouse joke and I'll step on your head.

The elephant has a way with words, huh? I reckon his point came through loud and clear. I think I'll avoid mentioning mice in Rutherford's presence again.

Anywho, the point is that thanks to my tireless efforts, the toys are certified safe for Ricky.

The Life and Times of Goofball

2006-10-28T20:39:00.000-04:00

Hey there. Long time no type, huh? Sorry that I have been incommunicado, but our world has been turned upside down with the arrival of Ricky. Talk about a change. Sleeping in is a thing of the past, since Ricky wakes between 5 and 6 most mornings. Lounging and watching daytime TV isn't the same because Terri Poppins is always hanging around. Don't get me wrong, I think the baby sitter earns her keep. You couldn't pay me enough to change diapers and wipe up spit. I'm serious. Even for $1 million, I would not lift a paw to change a diaper. I suppose for $1 million I could outsource the job to someone like Terri Poppins. Ricky seems to like Terri, so I put up with it. But what I cannot put up with are the programs that Terri watches. Did you know that The Price is Right is still on? It is, and the set looks pretty much like it did during the 1970s. For that matter, Bob Barker looks about the same as he did in the 1970s. The show is an inane tribute to consumer culture.

Wagsy: Um ... hello, Goofball! I couldn't help but over hear your typing and I was wondering if you hate every aspect of the Price is Right. Your complaints sounds more like Pudge Bear than Goofball.

Goofball: I don't know what you are trying to imply. I'm my own bear. I make my own decisions. I'm smart enough to use words like "inane" and phrases like "consumer culture." I've got better uses of my time than watching women jump around and kiss Bob Barker and watching the Plinko disk fall.

Wagsy: Um ... is that true? I don't think anyone really dislikes Plinko.

Goofball: Okay, you're right. There is something hypnotic about it. But I don't like the show. The games are stupid -- except for Plinko, which is stupid but mesmerizing.

Wagsy: Um ... what about Cliff Hanger?

Goofball: What about it? It's a bad Sylvestor Stallone movie. What self-respecting action movie features John Lithgow prominently?

Wagsy: Um ... no, no, that isn't what I meant. What about the Price is Right game named Cliff Hanger?

Goofball: What are you trying to imply?

Wagsy: I heard you yodeling the Cliff Hanger song.

Goofball: What! How?! I only sing that when I am alone.

Wagsy: I heard you over the baby monitor.

Goofball: Get out of here! This is my post. Vamoose!

Moose: Moose!

Wagsy: Um ... are you embarassed about yodelling, Goofball?

Goofball: I do not yodel! You got that straight? The Goofball does not yodel.

Wagsy: Um ... the baby monitor says otherwise.

Goofball: Do you believe everything you hear over the baby monitor?

Moose: Moose!

Wagsy: Um ... yeah, yeah, I guess I do.

Goofball: I'm ending this post right now.

Wagsy: Um ... goodbye, Goofball.

Moose: Moose!

Happy Birthday, Harriet

2006-10-26T00:36:00.000-04:00

Um ... happy birthday to you
Um ... happy birthday to you
Um ... um ... happy birthday, dear Harriet
Um ... happy birthday to youuuuuuu.

Um ... hello. This is Harriet's first birthday as a mommy. Our life has changed so much in the past year. First Harriet looked like she was smuggling pillows. Oooh, she looked very comfy, but really she was hard and lumpy. Then Harriet went to the hospital and came back with a baby. Um ... I don't think I have ever uttered a more terrifying clause in my life: "came back with a baby." Even "came back with a polyester chainsaw" doesn't sound as scary. I think this might be the first birthday a bear was thrown up on. Ozzie has been good about protecting us, but we still get drooled on sometimes. I guess we don't mind the drool so much, but ... um ... I don't like being a chew toy. I am a grown woman's teddy bear and that means I get to stay up late watching TV and cuddle and not get drooled on. Yeah, yeah, that's what it means.

But ... um ... it also means that we love Harriet and accept her no matter what. Ricky is pretty cute when he's not being a big ol' drool monster. Even I get my nose gnawed on, I'm happy that Harriet is my person. I think that goes for every one of us.

Happy birthday, Harriet!

Zebra on the Loose

2006-10-24T18:29:00.000-04:00

WoW!!! Look Who Got a Blogger Account!!! Watch out World!

Catching Up

2006-10-14T22:17:00.000-04:00

Um ... hello! Um ... how are you? Um ... um ... we haven't been doing a very good job of blogging lately. But it is not our fault! Honestly, we mean to blog, but ... um ... we need help and we keep getting ignored. Oooh, our life has changed and not for the better. Um ... we don't get as much cuddling. And we don't get to watch TV anymore. And a couple of us had to put our viscous liquids training to good use. Oooh! Little Ricky isn't very tidy. Drooly is more how I would describe him. He looks cuddly, but mostly he's sticky.

It isn't all bad, though. we have lots of new friends. There is a pig. And a sheep. And a couple of bears. And a zebra (ooh, another zebra ... our house is becoming a climate controlled serengeti). They're all very nice. Except maybe the zebra. He might be nice, but it is hard to get to know a zebra. Oooh, hopefully we can introduce you to all our new friends soon. Once we start blogging again.

But ... um ... it isn't all Ricky's fault that we haven't been blogging. There is also the election. Oooh, since Ozzie studies voting behavior, he's really busy during October. Last year that didn't stop us from blogging, but ... um ... I think Ricky has changed the equation a little bit. Ozzie just looks like a zombie. A big mean grumpy zombie. Even a dancing Goofball doesn't cheer him up. Um ... I wish he'd take a nap. And it would be nice if he'd include us in the nap, too. Maybe after the election we'll start blogging again. Maybe.

Um ... a dog has to have dreams, right?

Too Exciting to Pass Up

2006-09-12T21:29:00.000-04:00

So like I know we haven't been blogging lately, and like I am super sorry about that. But like things have been crazy here with the arrival of little Ricky. By crazy, I mean that everyone is totally exhausted and completely bored out of their minds. Like I mean everyone. Even Platy is beginning to complain about the daily repetition (and like this one time Platy confused a glass bookcase for a movie and watched the bookcase for like two days straight). Like Ricky looks totally adorable, but he pretty much only does like three things. One of those things is nap, but he naps a lot even for teddy bears. I mean come on, this aardvark has things to do. And like the other two things Ricky does are like too disgusting to be discussed on a family blog. Oh my god, I'm like totally scarred. If I had a therapist, she would like have to hypnotize me so I could recall the traumatizing moments. Stars with their babies may look all glamorous and happy, but that is probably because they are like paying someone to change diapers and comfort squawking babies. Or maybe it is because they are shopping for clothes in fancy boutiques in full make up. Like who wouldn't look glamorous and happy doing that? Like, the point is that, I am totally sorry that we have been totally neglecting the blog.

But I am posting now because like I totally have exciting news. Oh my god, I can hardly contain myself. Michelle Williams picked out a baby present for little Ricky. I'm being totally on the level here. For real. I mean like this is THE Michelle Williams, the glamorous movie star, and not some nobody Michelle Williams who happens to share the same name. Like isn't that totally amazing?

Oh, my god, Amelia and I were like totally stoked and like hopping all over the room screaming and stuff. I mean what are the odds that a co-lead of Dick, which happens to be my all-time favorite movie about political intrigue, would choose our family a present? I should be like totally above board and say upfront that Michelle Williams didn't buy Ricky a present, but she personally selected it which is almost as good. Harriet's cousin, K., was shopping in this amazing Japanese department store in the big Apple named Takashimaya. K. was like trying to find an appropriate gift for Ricky. She was going to buy this very cute, knitted Noah's Ark when this glamorous stranger came up to K. and said:

Glamorous Stranger: You know, like, that looks really cute and all, but babies would prefer cheap plastic things to gnaw on.

K.: Like that is totally a good point. Thanks.

Glamorous Stranger: No problem, like i know everything about babies.

K.: Well, like I have no clue, so like could you help me out by telling me stuff to buy?

Glamorous Stranger: Like you're in the right store, because I just adore Takashimaya. I like come here every time I am in New York cuz like it's the best.

K.: I like it, too. So like what do you like?

Glamorous Stranger: I completely adore this blanket with all the dogs on it and stuff. It is like really cute and really soft and totally gives the baby an enriched environment with all the colors and textures on it and stuff.

K.: Oh my god, you're right. This blanket is awesome and I bet Ricky is completely into colors.

Glamorous Stranger: Totally.

K.: Like did you bring your dog into the store?

Glamorous Stranger: Yeah! Like what was I supposed to do, leave it outside tied to a tree or something? As if. It's like pure-bred and everything.

K.: I'm just saying stores don't normally like people to bring in pets and stuff.

Glamorous Stranger: I'm like really, really famous, and totally rich, and way too glamorous to be bothered. Like people let me do whatever I want cuz like I spend lots of money and make everywhere I go seem like totally hot. Like I bought a pretzel from thsi hot dog vendor this one time, and like the next day there was a picture of it in the styles section and like the
dude was like up to is ears in customers.

K.: I knew that. I totally knew that you are Michelle Williams.

Michelle Williams: Well now that you know, like don't go totally crazy stalker on me or anything.

K.: Like thanks for the great advice on the baby present.

Michelle Williams: Like it was my pleasure.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! And that is how Michelle Williams picked out our, I mean like Ricky's, blanket. Here is a picture of Amelia and I posing with the blanket.

Like I am pretty sure that Michelle Williams touched it, so it might like have her hair or skin or something on it. If I was like some sick-o, I could totally clone her. But like that would ruin the whole mystique behind Michelle Williams. I mean who else could have played Kimberly in But I'm a Cheerleader? Okay, that was a small part, but she was like integral to Prozac Nation when she played Ruby. Oh my god, she's like so talented.

Amelia said that like this gift from Michelle Williams was like an omen or something of like good things for Ricky. And like I don't know about that cuz like I'm a self-made aardvark and all, but like it totally changes my view of Ricky. Like he might do some really disgusting things, but like he is a close personal friend of Michelle Williams and that is way cool.

So like I want to tell everyone.

Back in Action

2006-09-10T00:05:00.000-04:00

Um ... hello! Oooh! That felt so good to say. I think I'll say it again ...

Um ... hello! I'm back. We're back. The long blog silence is over. Ooh, we've had so much to say over the past three months, but ... um ... we've been kinda busy lately. By "we" I mean Ozzie. The bears have been pretty bored to be honest and would rather have been blogging. Not that we have been doing nothing, but ... um ... we haven't been doing much of anything. But we have so much to tell you!

Ooh, I am so excited to be typing again. I apologize to our loyal readers. We should have let you know the silence was coming. But ... um ... our readership actually rose when we stopped. Yeah, yeah. Our two best months ever were the last two months when we didn't say anything. Um ... I'm not sure what that says. A lot of people were searching for images of baby ducks and came across our blog. Um ... I don't understand it either.

But ... um ... check back soon. We should be back to posting once or twice a week now.

Oooh, it is so good to be back. Baby watching can be so boring.

[Editor: Shhhhh, Wagsy, Harriet might hear you.]

Well, it is boring. I mean I thought watching Ricky was pretty interesting the first week or two, but three months is a bit much.

[Editor: I'm not saying I disagree, but Harriet is pretty attached to Ricky. She doesn't think watching Ricky is boring.]

Um ... I spend all day looking out a window or staring up at the ceiling. I know boring. Watching a baby all day every day is boring. Um ... except when it is scary. Ricky gets really loud and he's very messy. Oooh, we have witnessed some scary fluids on the bed. Luckily no bears were hurt.

But we can tell you about it later because we're back.

The bears are back in town
The bears are back in town
I said
The bears are back in town
The bears are back in town
The bears are back in town
The bears are back in town
The bears are back in town
The bears are back in town
The bears are back in town

Maybe I should pick a more complicated song to sing next time.

The Callousness of the Blogosphere

2006-08-02T23:02:00.000-04:00

In the wake of tragedy, many are choosing inappropriately to make light of the situation.

A woman named "Florida Cracker" flippantly comments that "[t]he problem with antique stuffed animals is they always have some loose thread or button that needs to be pulled" and concludes "Barney announced he'd be checking into rehab." While it is probable that Barney sufferes from a chemical imbalance (most likely the problem is genetic since dobermans are a particularly vicious breed and a scourge to teddy bears everywhere), I would hardly describe being torn apart by vice-like jaws as "loose thread."

A blogger writing under the psuedonym "Lord Monsoon" makes a nearly identical joke regarding Barney's mental health:

[T]he dog has long struggled with an anger management problem. Part of West's duties at the museum is to take Barney to an animal psychiatrist once a week to work through his issues. Said West of Barney the dog's treatment:

"The dog's shrink thinks he's figured right out Barney's problem. He hates cats you see. Gives them the evil eye he does, like he's saying 'you f**king cats' and all. Barney tends to tie up with other dogs, and the shrink says that Barney must blame cats for all the dogfights in the world. Hells bells, the bloody mutt cast an eye on me when I finally took him down last night as if to say, 'Are you a cat?' Bloody hell that look it was, I tell you."

Barney the dog's psychiatrist was not immediately available for comment, but left a phone message with CM later saying he's seen Barney since his "episode" and can tell the dog is most apologetic, and is embarassed and deeply regrets his despicable act. But the dog himself has declined to comment.

The whole post strikes an inappropriately jocular tone and makes light of the death and mayhem. However, I did appreciate Lord Monsoon's observation that "the dog managed to destroy about 100 bears, evidently eluding the agility-impaired West." At the very least the security guard is inept; criminally negligent is more likely.

Generally, people on the web find the situation to be great fodder for juvenile comedy. The comments on this news site demonstrate a distinct lack of moral uneasiness as they share stories of calamity that has befallen teddy bears. I fail to see why the story is humorous much less "Hilarious!!" justifying a double exclamation point.

I have often read news accounts of depravity on the web. Little did I know it extends to a moral obtuseness regarding teddy bears.

Crimes Against Bears

2006-08-02T22:30:00.000-04:00

I sincerely apologize for the long silence on the blog. Given our druthers, we bears would prefer to be posting about the myriad of activities in our household. Sadly, Ozzie has been too tired to assist our recounting. As Ozzie's academic mentor I can not complain since his efforts should be put towards getting tenure. However, the fact remains that the bears are bored and we miss the blog. We shall resume blogging in the next day or two.

But news of an international calamity needs to be addressed immediately and widely disseminated. Hundreds of teddy bears perished in Wookey Hole Caves when a doberman named Barney viciously attacked the innocent teddy bears. The murderous beast showed no mercy and offered no explanation for the carnage. The AP described the scene thusly:

Barney ripped the head off a brown stuffed bear once owned by the young Presley during the attack, leaving fluffy stuffing and bits of bears' limbs and heads on the museum floor. The bear, named Mabel, was made in 1909 by the German manufacturer Steiff.

I would like to commend the AP for running a story on teddy bears when the Middle East is in an uproar. Most news agencies would dismiss the story as a fluff piece and ignore the rights of the teddy bears in question. Moreover, the paragraph excerpted above describes the scene vividly (just on the correct side of lurid), and demonstrates a definite sympathy for the teddy bears.

However, I must object to the focus upon Mabel, the bear owned by Elvis Presley. While I am sure that Mabel suffered while watching her owner self-destruct towards the end of his life, she is no more or less inherently worthy of eulogizing than any of the other hundred bears who perished in the children's museum. By my count, Elvis is mentioned four times in the story and not a single other bear is mentioned. There is not even an accurate body count provided. I hope that the AP follows up on the story and releases more details of this tragedy.

Our sincerest and furriest condolences go out to the family and friends of the teddy bears who were harmed.

---------------------------------
Addendum: A picture of the crime scene can be found here. It is clear from Barney's expression that he shows no remorse for his attack. From the description in the article it is difficult to know whether security man Greg West is a hero for saving the remaining bears or an enabling or inept accomplice to the crime. I hope we learn additional details soon.

Birth Announcement

2006-06-08T22:37:00.000-04:00

I am pleased to announce the birth of a young scholar, Ricky Nelson. The reports I have heard is that he is a fine and healthy young man and that Harriet is also doing well.

I must admit that I take a special joy in the birth of young Ricky. I have never guided a young intellect from birth. Harriet came under my tutelage at the age of 6, which is sufficiently early to teach rudimentary skills. However, by the age of 6 many children already have ingrained habits and tastes that cannot be rectified. For instance, Harriet possesses an appreciation of country music that I find unfathomable. Friends in low places often share low tastes.

I face no such barriers with the young Mr. Ricky Nelson. We shall begin his education with Mozart and gradually move to Beethoven and Brahms. He will read canonical translations of the Iliad and the Odyssey. I would like to teach the young sir ancient Greek for a fuller appreciation of these great works, but I fear that neither Ozzie nor Harriet show the slightest aptitude for languages. Thus, I shall set more realistic goals.

Sigh. Ozzie poses something of a challenge. I hesitate to describe his lifestyle as uncouth, but it is at the very least unconventional. Ozzie is a passable scholar and possesses fine taste in novels and music, but too often he descends into intellectual laziness with his workmanlike prose and fondness for disco and basketball. I once saw him eat an entire dinner with his hands. I have severe reservations about my ability to properly educate the young Ricky with Ozzie throwing a wrench into the works.

Perhaps I can arrange a lengthy sabatical in Madagascar for Ozzie. A year or two without his meddlesome interference in my pedagogy should allow me to inoculate Ricky from Ozzie's intellectual Gomorrah.

Not Ready Redux

2006-06-08T04:00:00.000-04:00

Um ... hello. Harriet is going to the hospital. Oooh, she's in a lot of pain. I tried comforting her and she appreciated the cuddling, but she was still in a lot of pain. Even my bunny George didn't make her feel better. So Ozzie took Harriet to the hospital. I would be worried, but Ozzie assures us that Harriet will be fine and she is just having contractions. Um ... I hope the pillowhead is right. Um ... um ...

I'mnotready. I'mnotready. I'mnotready.

Um ... if the baby is such a pain in the tookus when he is inside, how bad will things be when he is on the outside?

I'mnotready!I'mnotready!I'mnotready!

Taming of the Zebra

2006-06-01T22:23:00.000-04:00

Ozzie and Harriet have been extremely diligent about preparing the house for a young child. Our domicile is replete with baby gates, cribs, changing tables, diapers, and sufficient clothing for nearly a year. I fret that Ozzie's work has not been completed, but, in the grand scheme of things, the specific date on an article is less important that the health and well-being of a child (not to mention Harriet's sanity).

There is one aspect of household readiness that I fear was overlooked: namely, our zebra infestation. Our humble abode has been inundated with zebras for quite some time. The net result of the collection of feral animals is an impressive cacophony. Harriet attributes her difficulty sleeping to the pregnancy, however I suspect that the neighing, shedding, and destructive members of the horse family who have taken up residence may be a contributing factor. I recognize that standards in child rearing have changed over the years, but I refuse to believe that it is acceptable for newborns to be exposed to feral zebra.

To rectify the situation, I set out to domesticate our zebra house guests. Taming wild animals is not an activity in which I generally find myself engaged. However, I reasoned that training the reckless zebras could be no more difficult than wrestling with the unruly truths of our universe. So I set about my task with the stealy resolve of a person possessed of knowledge.

My first salvo sought to reason with the zebras. I must admit that the zebras struck me as a brutish lot incapable of reasoning, but I did not want to prejudge the analytic capicities of the zebra. Thus I approached the zebra with a cursory description of Hobbes' central argument in Leviathan explaining why we submit to government. Surely the zebras would value the culture and security that derive from submitting to customs, norms, rules, and governance. Unsurprisingy, the zebras remained unpersuaded. However, I must admit that I was somewhat taken aback when a large pile of couch stuffing was thrown at me. Clearly, these zebras were not of a philosophical bent.

My second stratagem attempted to win over the zebras with simple bribery. In nature, zebras prefer to eat short grass. However, I had noticed that in our household the zebras consume high caloric food stuffs such as sugars and complex starches. One wonders whether zebra diabetes would be a problem in the savana were zebras to have access to such fatting items. The weakness for sweets was my entry and I endeavored to curry the favor of the zebras by presenting them with cheesecakes. I must admit that they were excellent New York Style cheesecakes purchased from a local specialty store and would tempt any creature with a sweet tooth. In exchange for consistently good behavior, I would provide one cheesecake a week. As one might expect, the zebras highly discount future benefits and simply trampled me in their rush to the cheesecake. Ultimately, the plan to reward the zebras completely backfired. The zebras overturned a large portion of the kitchen in their sugar induced revelry.

While the zebras were sleeping off their sugar highs, I regrouped and rethought my tactics. My initial assumptions proved unduly optimistic. Clearly I was overestimating the capacities of the zebras. Rather than treating the zebras as reasoning creatures, I would train them like simple animals. If BF Skinner could train pigeons, surely I could meet with some success on zebras. [Note: In no way do I wish to compare my intellect to Skinner's, but the enhanced brain development in mammals should provide better raw material than avian cranial capacity.]

Ideally, an animal trainer relies upon positive and negative reinforcement rather than punishment. Punishment often encourages creatures to avoid detection rather than truly alter behavior, so punishment is merely a short term fix. However, the baby could arrive any day, so time was of the essence and I decided to utilize punishment in my training regime. [Note: I must also sheepishly admit that I was still smarting from having boysenberry cheesecake rubbed into my skin. Revenge is an ugly emotion and I fear I may have succumb.]

I laid out the following set of rules for the zebra. As long as they remained relatively quiet, did not break furniture, and generally wreak havoc, a DVD of Racing Stripes would play. If any furniture were destroyed or the dinn rise to uncontrollable levels, Racing Stripes would be shut off (i.e., negative reinforcement). If the zebra were especially well behaved, then popcorn and caffeine free diet soda would be provided during the movie (i.e., positive reinforcement). However, should the wheels fall off and the house descend into zebra led chaos, then I would turn on Air Supply (i.e., punishment). Goofball complained that hearing Air Supply was punishment for the entire house, and it was difficult to disagree. However, drastic action needed to be taken in order to properly condition the zebra. Furthermore, I was forced to endure countless hours of watching the putrid Racing Stripes and viewed my share of the collective pain as more than fair. Were there other zebra-themed movies available at the movie store, I would have opted for better entertainment.

The effects of the training were swift and dramatic.

Notice that the zebras are calmly sitting in one space. There is no hiding, biting, breying, breaking, or vandalism. Two of the zebras are even wearing clothing. I was stunned at the rapid transformation.

Apparently the zebras were as well.

I now feel more confident that a child can be properly raised in this household.

Not Ready

2006-06-01T21:21:00.000-04:00

Um ... hello. Um ... we've received some inquiries about why we haven't posted lately. No, Harriet hasn't had the baby yet. We're still waiting here. Bears are really good at waiting. Yeah, yeah, we can sit and stare at the wall for hours. We also like napping. Napping takes up a lot of our time. Time flies when you're napping. Harriet might be impatient, but these last days of being baby free are flying by.

Um ... more specifically, a reader wanted to know why I haven't been posting. Um ... that one is ... um ... a little harder to answer. Um ...

I'm not ready!!! I'm not ready, I'm not ready, I'm not ready! Babies are messy, dangerous, smelly things. I might be the victim of an inadvertant barfing. Oooh, I'm a grownup bear not a baby bear. I like napping. I don't like flying. I like sitting. I do not like being dragged down the stairs by my foot. Um ... oh.

I'mnotreadyI'mnotreadyI'mnotready!

American Idle

2006-05-23T22:12:00.000-04:00

Okay, so like I haven't written anything about American Idol in like forever. Like I'm not even sure that I have even said word one about the show. It's not that I don't watch it cuz like I'm totally glued to the set each week. But it's like when the world is full of so many stars, why would I want to write about wanna-bees? Like Angelina and Brad are their own established constellation and make for good copy. Typing is like totally difficult for me, so why should I waste my time on erstwhile karoke singers?

Then like two things changed my mind with a quickness. First was this New York Times article on Ryan Seacrest. I was like whoa. What is the Grey Lady doing devoting 1400 words to a nobody like Ryan Seacrest when the Darfurrians are still in trouble? I totally didn't understand the interest, you know? I mean his role in Idol puts the fluous in superfluous. ... Like, does that work, Amelia?

Amelia: I don't think so, Buffy. Fluous isn't a word.

Then, like what should I use? He puts the "less" back in useless? That seems kinda lame.

Amelia: Well, maybe you could try, "His role isn't worth the word 'expendable', so I'll just describe it as endable." Or, "It's not only redundant, it's simply done: done before, done better, and is it done yet?"

Like, see why I hang with Amelia? I mean she is quiet, but she has a fierce tongue. Must come with slurping up ants and termites. Like there was this girl in the 80s who told this guy in a movie that she wouldn't kiss him until he could unwrap a Starburst using only his tongue. And like Amelia and I just don't find opening candies impressive. Try getting ants out of a rotten log and then we'll talk.

Amelia: I think you've spent enough time on the tangent, Buffy. Get back to Ryan Seacrest.

Totally, oh my god, I like forgot where I was or something. The point is, Ryan adds nothing to show. Despite this lack of charisma, he has two radio shows, a role on Idol, and a 3 year $21 million contract from E!. Like how is that possible? I mean he is kinda cute if you're in the "I'm too old for Hobbits but too young for Vin Diesel" crowd. He isn't funny (like me). He isn't insighful (like me). He's like vanilla, but not like the good Mexican kind. Seacrest is the synthetic, bitter, imitation vanilla they produce in huge vats off the New Jersey turnpike.

Amelia: You're sounding a little bitter yourself, Buffy. Why can't we just be happy for Ryan's success?

Happy?! Like I'm totally pumped. If that dweeb can make a multi-million dollar empire, what's to stop me from being the next Oprah? My left ear is more interesting than Ryan. Seacrest out, Buffy in.

So like the second thing that prompted me to write about American Idol was this e-mail from a reader:

Dear Buffy,

You're like my favorite author on Furry Thoughts for Fuzzy Times. Like for a while I thought I was into Goofball, but then he writes about sports all the time and misses all the really important things like fashion and celebrities. I have read everything you've written like a dozen times. You like say things that I'd like say if I could like say them, but you say them way better. Like yaknow? It's like we're on the same wavelength, but you're like further down the wave or something.

But I've noticed that you've been like silent on American Idol. Like is there some back story that I should know about? And like if you're not like boycotting the show on principle, could you like give you opinion on it? I'd be really curious to hear your thoughts.

An Aardvark Fan

Like I didn't realize that I was letting down my fans by not commenting on Idol. There totally isn't any drama or history. I've never tried out. I've never had Paula throw a drink on me. Nothing. I just didn't think there was a distinctive teddy bear perspective on the event, ya know? I mean I have opinions and favorites just like any other aardvark, but I didn't feel the need to subject the world to my thoughts. But if someone like wants to know, then I'll share them.

First off, this year's talent pool was more shallow than a love note written by Paris Hilton. I'm being totally serious here. Vote for the Worst probably had a civil war trying to decide who to support. The winner was clearly going to be Katharine McPhee from the start. I'm she's hot, she can sing, and she seems like a really sweet person. Couldn't you totally see her holding her own in US Weekly? Tell me she doesn't look just as good as Mandy Moore, Jessicsa Alba, or Katie Holmes? Please. And she's 21, so there won't be those scandalous Olsen Twins getting tanked type stories. Kat is the only one with star quality and that will like win out.

But like tonight's performances made me wonder. Taylor seemed to get the crowd really into it. I just don't see the attraction. He's like 79 (minus 50) and he's got twice as many chins as the average contestant. I mean if you can't bother to get in good shape during American Idol like when will you get in shape? At least Elvis waited until he was like a demi-god before turning himself into the Goodyear blimp. And the guy belts out every song like he is in front of the bathroom mirror. I mean even Randy Jackson kept saying, "No matter what the song, dog, you make it into a Taylor Hicks song." That is just another way of saying, "Every song sounds the same when you sing it, doofus." But the crowd was really into it. Am I so out of touch? I mean this should be a popularity contest between the stoned class clown and the really hot cheerleader, who is going to Harvard, feeds the homeless, and is genuinely nice to everyone. No brainer, right?

But then Simon changed his tune. I mean he started out panning every one of Taylor's performances, and I was with him. But then like a couple of weeks ago Simon switched gears and said he thought Taylor deserved to be in the finals? That switch totally gave me whiplash. I have a couple of theories for this turn around:

a) Simon really changed his mind (hardly);

b) Simon was paid by Vote for the Worst (as if);

c) Simon's record company gets to produce a record for the #2 person, but Fox gets the winner (you never know, but the conflict of interest seems way too obvious);

d) Simon watched the crowds going bezerk every week and saw the number of votes Taylor brought in and decided to capitulate to the mob.

Like is it possible that my favorite judge sold out? I just don't get it. And like it totally makes me sick when Randy and Paula start crowing about how Simon didn't think Taylor would make it very far. First off, like Simon already admitted he was wrong, so like relax. I mean has Paula ever admitted she was wrong? And second, when have those two been especially right? I mean they like everyone. Does that mean that they were wrong about all the people who lost out? It does, doesn't it? Am I right, Amelia?

Amelia: Yes, Buffy.

Thank you. I just don't understand any of this. They could like replace everyone excepting Simon on that show and I would probably like it just as much. And if Kat doesn't win, I'll be like totally disoriented. Would teenage girls really vote for a dork staving off a mid-life crisis instead of a really cute girl who can sing and is really nice? Like is this possible?

---------------------------
Update: Oh my god, I can't believe that the karoke singer won. How could America not catch McPheever? I'm like completely dumbfounded. He can't sing and he's not cute and he's not funny. What is the point in watching him? He like makes Ryan Seacrest look like the Bruce Jenner of the entertainment decathalon.

Ozzie totally needs to get off his butt and study the voting behavior of Idol fans. I mean there is something seriously strange about all this. Like I'm at a loss. What do the youth of America want? Like maybe I don't have it? Like I totally thought a sassy aardvark would hit some sort of cultural nerve.

But then I thought a hot, friendly, girl next door type who could sing would win American Idol, too.

Emotional Support Duck

2006-05-22T22:19:00.000-04:00

Quack quack quack quack quack: quack. Quack quack:

These days people rely on a veritable Noah's Ark of support animals. Tami McLallen, a spokeswoman for American Airlines, said that although dogs are the most common service animals taken onto planes, the airline has had to accommodate monkeys, miniature horses, cats and even an emotional support duck. "Its owner dressed it up in clothes," she recalled.

Quack quACK Quack quaCK quackquack. Quack quack quack quack QUACK QUACK QUACK! Quack quack QUAck quack quack. Quack quACK quACK quaCK.

Quack quack quack. Quack quack QUACK QUACK, quack QUAck, QUACK QUACK QUACK.

Quack quack quack quack quack.

Quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack.

Quack.

Gauging Interest in Teddy Bears

2006-05-11T20:55:00.000-04:00

Readers may recall my agreement with Ozzie a year ago. Once Ozzie receives tenure, he will assist me in writing my book. There are so many exciting possibilities to be pursued. Globalization and the Diffusion of Teddy Bears has a certain appeal, but I strongly suspect that my attentions will first be turned upon the epistemological and metaphysical properties of teddy bears. I plan an ambitious and far reaching intellectual agenda concerning teddy bears, and it is good to establish a firm intellectual foundation. Perhaps after dictating The Second Treatise on Teddy Bears, I will write An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Teddy Bears. From that vantage, I should be able to adequately pursue the diffusion of teddy bears. To be perfectly frank, I am positively giddy with excitement. Ozzie bought a desk for me last Christmas. I have never before possessed such a fine workshop in which to ply my trade. I long for the day when I can cease my concern with voting behavior and turn my attention to the eternal truths of the universe.

Readers whose primary encounter with narrative is the treacly tripe served up by Hollywood movie studios might guess that the paragraph above foreshadows the news that Ozzie will receive early tenure. While not entirely illogical, the conclusion is wholly unwarranted and demonstrates a severe misapprehension on the bureaucratic workings of academia. To be perfectly honest, nothing could be further from the truth. Ozzie has not produced anything worthy of note in weeks. Rather than finishing up existing papers, Ozzie spends his nights watching basketball games and his days struggling through the resulting sleep deprivation. Sigh. I find it somewhat apropos that Ozzie studies voters, who are often described as myopic, poorly informed, and easily distracted. It may be a very long time before I can begin my book in earnest.

To prepare myself for the day when my intellectual pursuits become actualized, I spend my idle hours pondering. The topic varies depending upon the day. I see little reason to reign in and focus my thoughts when my magnum opus is a minimum of six years away. Typically, I commune with the Canon (I am reaquainting myself with Aristotle at the moment), but occasionally I find myself inspired by the tools Ozzie employs in his work.

The wealth of data on American public opinion is simply staggering. Each day hundreds of randomly selected individuals are surveyed, and their responses are available for scholars to sift through. The range of questions that can be answered using such materials is mind boggling (which makes Ozzie's choice of topics for intellectual inquiry all the more depressing). I realize that a scholar should think of a question and then find the right methods to answer the question, but the temptation to make use of the cornucopia of survey tools is strong. Since Ozzie is frittering away his hours watching under-educated, over-paid pituitary cases fight over an inflated cow hide, I decided to indulge myself and explore seedy world of public opinion.

Unfortunately, surveys concerning my object of interest are not readily available. Perhaps the Vermont Teddy Bear Company has conducted proprietary research, but I am doubtful that I will ever gain access to such information. So how was I to assess public opinion concerning teddy bears?

As luck would have it, the innovative engineers at Google have derived a useful measure of broad interest in a subject. I eagerly typed in "teddy bear" into Google Trends to see what information concerning public sentiments on teddy bears could be gleaned. The results were surprisingly unambiguous. I took three lessons from the exercise.

Lesson One: People are most likely to type the word "teddy bear" into Google two weeks prior to Valentine's Day. I can only surmise that teddy bears are viewed as an appropriate gift for a romantic holiday. While I do not disagree with such sentiments, I would prefer teddy bears to be associated with a broader range of holidays. Why are teddy bears not viewed as patriotic? Surely, World Science Day (November 10th) would also be an appropriate day to give a loved one a teddy bear. Still, my wishes cannot change the shape of the data. That the world associates teddy bears with Valentine's Day is an uncontrovertible fact.

Lesson Two: Former British Colonies are the seat of global interest in teddy bears. The countries seeking teddy bears most are (in order): 1) The United States; 2) Australia; 3) United Kingdom; 4) New Zealand; 5) Canada; 6) Thailand; and 7) India. Given the prominent ranking of a small island state such as New Zealand, I assume that the results are normed by population. With the exception of Thailand, which is the only Southeast Asian nation not to be conquered by a European power, every country is an English speaking former British colony. The regularity cannot be due to chance. Whether teddy bears diffused through mercantile, cultural, or technological routes cannot be determined. However, the regularity is striking and worthy of note.

Lesson Three: The biggest news story concerning teddy bears involved a bad romantic pun. Apparently the "Crazy for You" teddy bear in a strait jacket from Vermont Teddy Bears rankled some oversensitive people. Yet another example of political correctness run amuck. Each of the articles deemed representative of the protest against "Crazy for You" bear worried about offending crazy people. Not one person quoted expressed concern over the undue restriction of movement for the hapless teddy bears. I agree that Vermont Teddy Bears behaved in a callous manner, but I see no reason to ignore the plight of friendly teddy bears.

I am not sure larger life lessons can be drawn from the Google Trends analysis. However, the initial data exploration was intended merely as a distraction. To that end, the analysis was immensely successful.

Retreat

2006-05-10T18:39:00.000-04:00

Like I am tired of all this talk about babies. I'm being totally serious here. Everything around this house is focused on the baby. Goofball was oblivious. Ozzie and Harriet are all stressed out. Even when I turned for a baby break to Us Weekly, my pop culture rock through thick and thin, it like totally backfired cuz people are all hyperventilating about Britney's pregnancy. BTW, I have no idea why people are so excited about this. It is hardly news. K-Fed already proved he was a fertile screw up, and I like Britney, but she doesn't seem the most natural mom. You know? Like the fact that there is another child on the way is just more of the same. What would be news is like if K-Fed got a job, quit smoking and spent time with the kids. Or if Britney and Kevin took a parenting class. But that is about as likely to happen as me winning an Emmy.

So like the point is that I'm sick and tired of babies and need a break. Normally, I would engage in some serious retail therapy, but there has been WAAAY too much shopping in this household. I mean like Ozzie and Harriet are buying something for the baby every day. And like baby stuff is super expensive. Gladstone is like flipping his lid every time his looks at the budget and stuff. I think we're doing okay money-wise, but someone has to exercise restraint. I'm just sorry that it has to be me.

I thought like a movie would be a good escape and take my mind off all things newborn, but like there hasn't been a hot movie made in forever. I'm totally serious. Just check out last week's top 10:

1) Mission Impossible III First off, Tom Cruise has gone from a dreamy to creepy. Oh my god, what happened? Did the Scientologists just suck out the remaining bits of Tom's brain? I'm not sure that I can support him anymore. A movie with Tom Cruise better be really good before I go see it, is all I am saying. Number two, like I'm sure that I would spend the entire movie thinking about Katie Holmes giving birth, and like the point of the exercise is to take my mind off babies. So like there is no chance that I am seeing this movie.

2) RV One of the great mysteries in the world is what happened to Robin Williams' career. Like it just fell off a cliff. He was good in Aladin and I thought he was fine in Good Will Hunting, but since then he's only appeared in movies that even teen age girls think are too saccarine. Like raise your hand if ten years ago you thought you would say, "Gee, it is a shame that Robin Williams doesn't have half the career of Tim Allen."

3) An American Haunting I don't like horror movies. Except for Them. That movie rocked.

4) Stick It Okay, I admit it. I totally wanted to see this movie. I'm not sure it would be quite as brilliant as Center Stage but this movie totally has potential. Center Stage might be the best movie ever. "Cooper, you're an amazing dancer, and you're a great choreographer, but as a boyfriend... you kinda suck." Replace ballet with gymnastics and we've got Stick It. The only problem is that no one wanted to see the movie with me and like I hate going to movies by myself. I mean, even Platy wouldn't go with me. How sad is that?

5) United 93 As if.

6) Ice Age: The Meltdown You know I am an aardvark who defies convention and breaks all the rules, but there are some laws of nature that I won't touch. Like one of those laws is that the sequel is always worse than the original. And the original Ice Age made me want to yak, so I am NOT seeing this movie. And before any science fiction geeks email me, I don't care how much better you think The Empire Strikes Back was than Star Wars. And I really don't want to hear how The Wrath of Khan is superior to Star Trek: The Motion Picture. All science fiction movies are the same to me. Except for Starship Troopers, Denise Richards totally made that movie.

Okay, I'm like tired of writing this, so I'll like stop before ten. You get the idea. The cinema wasn't really calling me. So what was I going to do? As always, I turned to Amelia, because she is a complete brainiac and always knows what to do.

I was like, "Amelia, what am I going to do? I'm bored and tired of babies. Like I want to go shopping, but we don't have any money left. And I want to see a movie, but no one will go see Stick It with me."

And Amelia was all like, "I'm sorry, Buffy, but I just don't feel like watching another movie where Jeff Bridges just mails it in."

And so I was like, "But what am I going to do. All my consumer support mechanisms have totally failed me."

And then Amelia dropped this on me, "Why don't you go to a spa and relax?"

And that was totally it. I mean why didn't I think of that? Amelia was on point. But it wouldn't be a weekend at the spa without my girl, so Amelia totally had to come along.

Sitting in the sauna and hot tub was totally relaxing. I never once thought about babies or diapers or college funds or anything like that. I was able to sit back and relax and think about how hot I am. It was awesome. I mean it has been forever and a day since I could just concentrate on me. And Amelia and I could talk about boys and TV shows and stuff like that. I mean it was really good just to be able to chill with my chica.

The only downside was that our masseuse was a little scrawny. I mean his hands were strong and all, but I was kind of hoping for a hunky guy named Sven. I still enjoyed getting my back rubbed and everything, but there wasn't the eye candy I have come to expect from spas. You know?

But after a day at the spa with Amelia, I felt totally relaxed and was ready to face up to our insane household. Oh my god, people just need to chill around here.

Life Changes

2006-05-01T22:38:00.000-04:00

Goofball: So, uh, you're going to be a father.

Ozzie: Yup. Looks like it.

Goofball: How do you feel about that?

Ozzie: Most of the time I think it is pretty cool.

Goofball: You scared?

Ozzie: Not really, just a little apprehensive.

Goofball: You know, I could have helped you feel a little less nervous if you had told me.

Ozzie: I'm really not that worried.

Goofball: Okay, I would have looked a little less stupid if you had told me.

Ozzie: I thought you knew.

Goofball: No one ever told me. How as I supposed to know?

Ozzie: It's hard to keep it a secret. Harriet is as big as a house. I figured you would catch on eventually.

Goofball: I'm a teddy bear, where was I supposed to learn this information? We don't hang out on playgrounds and we don't attend state mandated sex education classes.

Ozzie: Yeah, Pudgie's proposal was voted down pretty handily. I'm surprised he offered to teach the course, usually he likes to stick to economics or philosophy. I guess he thought someone should perform the important public service.

Goofball: It WOULD have been an important public service. There is no way I could have figured out the whole process on my own. Sheez, making babies is complicated and messy. And quite frankly, it seems a little unnatural.

Ozzie: There is more than a kernal of truth to that.

Goofball: I find it hard to believe that my girl is made for this. It cannot be healthy.

Ozzie: Sadly, I don't think it is healthy, Goofball.

Goofball: Is she going to be okay?

Ozzie: Yeah, I think so. We'll be in a hospital, so if anything goes wrong, there will be doctors ready to help out.

Goofball: Good. I worry about her. Not eating chocolate. Wobbling around the house. Very strange an unnatural behaviors, if you ask me.

Ozzie: And who wouldn't ask you, Goofball? You're an important part of Harriet's life.

Goofball: Yeah, I am. I am. She's lucky that you bought me and brought me back home. And you're lucky too. I reckon I've earned you more than a few kisses.

Ozzie: Lucky, Goofball, or crafty? Or a man of excellent taste in bears?

Goofball: True. True. You know what I don't worry about, Ozzie?

Ozzie: What's that, Goofball?

Goofball: Our friendship. I think we'll be friends for a long time.

Ozzie: Yup. That sounds about right to me.

Goofball: It's going to change though, isn't it?

Ozzie: Yup.

Goofball: A whole lot?

Ozzie: More than either of us can imagine.

Show down at Goofball Gulch

2006-04-28T23:25:00.000-04:00

Wagsy: Um ... hello, Goofball. How are you?

Goofball: I reckon I'm doing okay. Wait a minute, something is fishy here. Why did all three of you walk up to me at once?

Wagsy: Ooof! I don't know what you're talking about.

Buffy: Like give it up Wagsy, he's clueless not stupid. Like we're here to stage an intervention.

Goofball: An intervention?! What for!? What?! How?! Why?! I don't understand. I stopped hogging the body pillow a couple of weeks ago.

Pudgie: Goofbally, we are somewhat afraid that you have become disconnected from reality.

Goofball: Whatchootalkinabout, Pudgie?

Pudgie: One hypothesis is fear of an upcoming traumatic event is causing denial.

Goofball: Denial? Me? You're kidding. I'm the only cat that seems to understand what is going on here.

Buffy: So like, what do you think is happening?

Goofball: I can't believe that y'all don't see it. Harriet has a really large tumor. So Ozzie finally relented and agreed to let Harriet get a dog. Of course, dogs pose certain dangers for bears, so Ozzie and Harriet have been buying lots of equipment to keep us safe from the polyester shredding monster about to enter our house. See? I know what is up. It's all of you that can handle the truth.

Wagsy: Um ... um ... help me out here guys.

Buffy: Then how do you explain the new bed you've been sleeping in?

Goofball: That bed is great. See the guard rails to keep us safe from dog sneak attacks at night.

Wagsy: Um ... um ...

Buffy: Like I totally can't believe this.

Wagsy: How do you explain the toy hanging in the corner of the bed?

Goofball: Isn't that the sweetest little mobile? Ozzie can be a considerate guy when he wants to be. If the bears are going to be trapped in a bed lest they be rended by a dog, you gotta keep 'em entertained, right?

Wagsy: Um ... um ... anyone?

Pudgie: I'm returning to my original hypothesis that Goofball is simply ignorant of the facts of life. Goofball, the bed is for a new baby.

Goofball: Nah. Can't be.

Pudgie: I assure you, it most definitely is.

Goofball: Nope. I don't believe it. Your theory just doesn't add up. Why does the baby need guard rails? So the dog won't attack it?

Buffy: There is no dog, you dimwit.

Goofball: So the baby needs guard rails to keep it safe from us? That doesn't make any sense. We would try to stay as far away from the baby as possible. And kids love us. We're soft and cuddly and cute. Guard rails just aren't necessary. Your theory already fails Ockam's Razor.

Pudgie: (sigh) A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. ... The guard rails are present to keep the baby from falling out of the bed.

Goofball: Babies do that?

All: Yes!

Goofball: Huh. Go figure. So your baby theory explains the new bed and guard rails, but not everything that is going on around here. It doesn't explain the gates at the top of the stairs and the dog theory explains both.

Pudgie: The reasoning behind the gates is the same as the railing on the bed -- to protect the baby from falling.

Goofball: Hey, that is pretty parsimonious. I guess that would explain why Ozzie and Harriet have gummed up all the electrical outlets, too. I was kind of having trouble explaining that one. But what about Harriet's tumor and where is this baby coming from?

Pudgie: The baby is inside Harriet, Goofball.

Goofball: You're joking.

Pudgie: Do I look like I am joking?

Goofball: How did it get in there? Did she swallow it?

Buffy: Like you can try if you want to, but like I'm taking a pass on that one.

Wagsy: Um ... let's just say that the baby started off in there.

Goofball: I don't know. Sounds like you guys are just making this up as you go along. Besides, there isn't enough room for a baby inside Harriet. She's got intestines and kidneys and other organs stuffed in there.

Wagsy: Oooh, there is plenty of room in there for a baby. Look at how big her belly is.

I'm very jealous of how big it is. It is even bigger than my belly now.

Pudgie: But Goofball makes an apt point. Harriet does have internal organs competing for space with the child. This space constraint is the cause of many of her ailments such as shortness in breath and frequent sensation of urination.

Buffy: Like that was waaay too much information for me. I don't want even want to think about any of this.

Goofball: Huh, your baby theory can explain all of that, too. Not bad. I'm beginning to believe there is a baby coming and not a dog.

Buffy: Finally.

Goofball: Does this mean that Harriet isn't dying?

Pudgie: No. She will be perfectly healthy after the baby is delivered.

Goofball: Delivered? I thought you said she was carrying it inside her. Why would it need to be delivered?

Buffy: It's just an expression. She'll eventually have to get the baby outside of her.

Goofball: Okay, okay. No need to get hostile. I just have one more question.

Wagsy: Um ... what's that?

Goofball: Have they picked out a name yet? I think I would be good at picking out names. How does Aloisius strike you?

For every good turn there is an equal and opposite turn

2006-04-19T01:01:00.000-04:00

Ozzie: Waaaaaagsyyyyy! Ooooooh, Waaaaaagsy!

Wagsy: Um ... hello! How are you, Ozzie?

Ozzie: Oh, I'm doing okay, but I am a little upset with you. I thought we had a deal.

Wagsy: Oooh! You're upset with me? Um ... why? Is it because I forced you to talk to Harriet?

Ozzie: No, that isn't it. Guess again.

Wagsy: Is it because I called you a "pillowhead" and "cheesecake butt?"

Ozzie: Can't say I was particularly happy about that, but no that isn't why I am upset.

Wagsy: Um ... gee ... um ... I don't know. I don't do a whole lot during the day, so I don't know how I could upset you. Um ... are you jealous of my leisurely lifestyle?

Ozzie: No. I'm upset because you violated our deal.

Wagsy: Um ... what part of the deal are you talking about?

Ozzie: Come on, you like games. Guess.

Wagsy: Um ... I have stuffin' for brains and ... um ... I don't like all this ... um ... passive aggressive mocking. So ... um ... why don't you just spill the beans? Why are you upset?

Ozzie: Glad you asked. You gave me a broken wife.

Wagsy: Um ... I don't know what you mean.

Ozzie: Oooh, don't you?!

Wagsy: Um ... just because I am a teddy bear doesn't mean that I have to sit here and take this.

Ozzie: You're welcome to get up and leave any time you like. Come on, get up and walk on out of here. I'd like to see that.

Wagsy: Um ... I'm actively choosing to sit here and talk to you. So there. And ... um ... besides ... you're talking to me, so ... um ... your implication is a little silly.

Ozzie: Fair enough, but that still doesn't excuse you making Harriet cry.

Wagsy: Oooh! What did I do? Um ... how did I make here cry?

Ozzie: I'm not sure. It sounds like you were sitting in the crib looking especially cute.

Wagsy: Um ... is that a bad thing?

Ozzie: No. Looking cute is a good thing. But she's crying now because of it.

Wagsy: Um ... I'm confused. This isn't my fault.

Ozzie: You're the one who is sympatico with her. You get in there and figure out how to make her stop crying.

Wagsy: Um ... am I supposed to take a moral from this? I ... um ... still think you were wrong yesterday.

Ozzie: No, I was in the wrong. I'll fully admit that. I just wanted to point out that the crying was not a good indication of how wrong I was.

Wagsy: Um ... do I still have to go in there and get all salty?

Ozzie: Sure do, dog. Enjoy. I'll be playing Mah-jong with Florida retirees on-line.

Clearing the Air

2006-04-17T23:05:00.000-04:00

Wagsy: Ozzie! Ozzie! Um ... hello! Ozzie! Get over here.

Ozzie: Can it wait, Wagsy? I'm right in the middle of something.

Wagsy: Um ... no. No, it can't wait. Get your cheesecake butt over here. Um ... now.

Ozzie: Okay, okay, what's up?

Wagsy: Um ... I thought we had a deal.

Ozzie: We have a lot of deals. Which one are you talking about? The deal not to use you as a Swiffer?

Wagsy: Um ... no. No, that isn't the one I am thinking of.

Ozzie: Hmmm ... the deal to not call the teddy bears "stuffed animals?"

Wagsy: Um ... no. That is a good one. I'm really glad you stopped calling us that, but that isn't what I was talking about.

Ozzie: Then I don't understand what you're getting at.

Wagsy: (menacing but furry glare) Um ... don't you?

Ozzie: (sheepish pause) Well ... maybe I have some idea.

Wagsy: Um ... I thought we had a deal. And you gave me back a crying person. We said no tears.

Ozzie: Yeah, well, I'm really sorry about that. I screwed up.

Wagsy: Um ... you think so, pillowhead? Harriet isn't supposed to be crying. She's supposed to bask in the glow of pregnancy.

Ozzie: That is just false. You know perfectly well that Harriet has not been enjoying pregnancy from moment one. I should be more supportive of Harriet, but her problems with pregnancy are not my fault.

Wagsy: Okay, okay, you got me there. Oooh, if the baby is this much trouble now when it is contained in the womb, just imagine what he'll do when is unleashed on the world.

Ozzie: I'll do my best to see that he isn't unleashed on the bears.

Wagsy: Um, thanks, Ozzie. You know I didn't think that you'd ever warm up to the bears, but you've done a very good job of ... um ... taking care of us.

Ozzie: Thanks, Wagsy. You know, I started out thinking that you were a worrisome neurosis, but I've come to view you as a charming quirk.

Wagsy: Um ... um ... I don't know what to say. Charming is good. Worrisome neurosis is rude. Um ...

Ozzie: You don't have to say anything, you're family.

Wagsy: Ooooh, that's so nice. But that doesn't get you out of the dog house, buster. You still left me with a crying person.

Ozzie: What do you want me to do about it? I'm going to help her out tomorrow.

Wagsy: You're going to march right into that room and ... um ... you're going to ... um ... what are you going to do to make her stop crying?

Ozzie: You're the one who is sympatico with Harriet, you tell me.

Wagsy: Um ... this one isn't so easy. I don't think she knows what will make her feel better.

Ozzie: Maybe I should just go for a walk and give her space.

Wagsy: Um ... I don't think that is such a good idea, Ozzie. Um ... I think you should go be with her.

Ozzie: What should I do?

Wagsy: Um ... I don't know, but you'll figure it out. And ... um ... while you are at it, could you put Monsters Inc in the DVD player? Since no one is using the TV tonight, I thought I would keep it company.

New frontiers in teddy bear poetry

2006-04-14T07:39:00.000-04:00

Hi there. Thought I would take a break from the narrative thread. Don't worry, we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming. But this morning I read an exciting article on the newest thing in internet poetry. I'm not really into the newest and the sleekest, but this idea struck me as worthy. I'm talking about The Fib!

Yeah, I know it is geeky. Number theory is for pencil heads (though I have to admire the simplicity of some proofs like Euclid's demonstration that there are an infinite number of primes). But want do you want a bear to do? I live in a house with Professor Pudge Bear and Ozzie. There are math history jokes flying around all over the place. If you're not hip to the fact that Riemann pioneered differential geometry, you're like to miss some pun about sums ... or something. I don't know. I've never studied math myself. The first time they were talking about Cauchy sequences, I thought Pudgie and Ozzie were talkin' 'bout a Japanese breakfast cereal. But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate that there is beauty in numbers. For instance, there is only one Goofball -- that is a beautiful fact.

Anywho, the Fib is a six-line poem based on the Fibonacci sequence. 1-1-2-3-5-8. Easy enough, right? Well, I figured I would take the new meter round the block a few times to see what it can do.

Bears
like
cuddling
and napping
with comfy people.
Skinny people are okay, too.

Not bad. Not bad. There might be some promise in this Fib thing. It's pretty flexible. But the sign of a good poetry form is that it helps you explore important truths about the world.

Why
do
teddy
bears make for
good cohabitants?
We neither judge nor eat your fudge.

Now, a statement doesn't get much truer than that, does it? The "judge" "fudge" rhyme is a little clunky and noone really eats fudge nowadays, but chocolate just didn't fit the last line. Hey, I'm a teddy bear so cut me some slack. You get what you pay for.

I
don't
like to
boast without warrant.
I once ate a sixty ounce steak.

The whole poem is a pun, see? I don't eat steak, so it is a fib. Okay, okay, so that is pretty weak. But the name Fib is just too tempting, I couldn't resist.

I wonder what else we could try. Harnassing the dorky power of math to create new poetic meters seems easy enough. I bet we could come up with other new forms of poetry.

The square
grows too quickly
for a good poetry meter.

Ain't that the truth? What about something that grows more slowly.

Even
numbers are not
interesting meters
either. Long live the jazzy fib.

Hmmm. This might be harder than it looks.

Perhaps perfect squares work as acceptable poetic meters.
You begin with sixteen syllables.
End with nine, four,
one.

Hey, that has promise. The opening line of sixteen is a little clunky, but we can make it work. Here is an Motto for Ozzie ...

My days are filled analyzing data and writing articles.
I do not work for fame and fortune.
Knowledge is my
goal.

That's enough poetry for one morning. And that enough math for a whole week. But I just had to give this Fib thing a whirl.

Missing the point

2006-04-13T22:26:00.000-04:00

Goofball: Hey, Buffy! Buffy. Have you heard the news?

Buffy: Yeah, it's been obvious for a while now. I was wondering when you would figure it out.

Goofball: Okay, so I'm a little slow. I knew something was up, but I just figured Harriet was putting on a little weight. Horrible isn't it? What are we going to do?

Buffy: Like I don't know if I would classify it as horrible, but like it is going to totally change our lives.

Goofball: Well, I think it's pretty horrible. I really treasure my relationship with Harriet. I'll miss all the cuddling and story telling and playing trivial pursuit and watching golf, or just hanging out. There will be huge whole in my life. I think it is safe to say that it is true for everyone.

Buffy: Yeah, no doubt. Like we're all a really tight family right now, but we're going to have to learn to adjust, you know? This is just part of life's cycle. The sooner we accept that the sooner we can move on.

Goofball: Hmmm ... I suppose that is true, but I don't have to like it. Cycle or not, I don't think I'll ever get over this.

Buffy: The biggest change is that the house is like going to be a total disaster.

Goofball: Excuse me?

Buffy: Like the place is going to be a total mess. You know it will happen.

Goofball: I suppose Ozzie isn't always the neatest guy in the world and he will be depressed, but the cleanliness of the house seems like a pretty minor issue. Your attitude seems pretty callous.

Buffy: Hold on a minute, buster. I'm being callous? I agree that cleanliness is a minor issue, but look how you're behaving. "Whoa is me, I'll get less cuddling." Get a grip. Like Harriet is happy and we should all celebrate the change.

Goofball: Celebrate?! Look I know that Harriet is a sweet kid and I know she is going to Heaven, but I really can't bring myself to celebrate this "life change" you're talking about. I'm going to be sad when Harriet leaves us.

Buffy: Like she's only going to be gone for a few days. Her vacations have lasted longer. What's your damage?

Goofball: What are you talking about? Has the story of Easter made you stupid? Dead is dead and Harriet won't be coming back. Doesn't that make you sad?

Buffy: What are you talking about? Harriet isn't dying.

Goofball: I'm talking about her inoperable tumor. What are you talking about?

Buffy: Oh my god, I can't believe I just wasted time on you. I don't have time to clean up this mess. Go talk to Pudgie.

A Cry for Help

2006-04-11T23:35:00.000-04:00

Goofball: Hey there, Wagsy!

Wagsy: Um ... hi, Goofball. How are you?

Goofball: Doing okay. Actually, I'm doing better than okay now that Platy explained things to me.

Wagsy: Um ... um ... Platy explained things to you? Oh my. Um ... I wondered where he went. Um ... what exactly did Platy tell you?

Goofball: Platy told me the secret reason everyone everyone is acting so crazy round here.

Wagsy: Um ... what did Platy tell you, Goofball?

Goofball: What?! You haven't noticed all the strangeness? You can't tell me that things haven't been askew, akilter, and a little weird.

Wagsy: Um ... um ... what do you think is weird?

Goofball: Well, for starters Harriet stopped eating chocolate. That right there is enough information to warrant an FBI investigation. Ozzie has started working harder, and I don't like to say it because I like the boy, but that is a little out of the ordinary.

Wagsy Yeah, yeah, I DID notice those changes. Um ... what secret do you think caused those changes?

Goofball: You don't know? I can't believe Platy was more in the know than the two of us. We're pretty much the social hubs, I don't know how information like this passed us by.

Wagsy: Um ... what did Platy tell you, Goofball?

Goofball: Keep your pants on, dog. Why so pushy? What's your hurry? Afraid you'll miss out on your mid-afternoon nap?

Wagsy: Um ... I would like to take a nap now that you mention it. But I also want to know what Platy told you.

Goofball: (whisper) Ozzie and Harriet are going to get a dog.

Wagsy: Um ... um ...

Goofball: Yeah, I couldn't believe it either. But it makes perfect sense. Ozzie is working harder so he can afford allergy shots for the dog. Harriet stopped eating chocolate because chocolate is bad for dogs and she doesn't want to keep it around the house.

Wagsy: Um ... that is an interesting theory.

Goofball: Wait, there is more evidence. You know those gates that they put at the top and bottom of the stairs?

Wagsy: Yeah ...

Goofball: Well, I thought they were to keep Harriet from sleep walking and falling down the stairs, but now I know that they are to keep the dog from getting near the bears. That is why I stopped worrying about the dog. Harriet and Ozzie thought of everything to keep the bears safe.

Wagsy: Um ... um ... so the dog is staying downstairs?

Goofball: Yeah, so no need to have that worried look on your face.

Wagsy: Why do they need two gates then? Um ... wouldn't the one at the bottom be enough?

Goofball: I'm one step ahead of you. The second gate is a fail safe. The dog can't jump up the stairs and over the gate. I tell you, Ozzie and Harriet really thought that one through. I wonder if Pudgie helped them. Yup, we're getting a dog. It accounts for all the strangeness.

Wagsy: Um ... all the changes around here can be explained by a dog?

Goofball: Yup, all of 'em.

Wagsy: Um ... how does a dog explain why Harriet's belly is so big?

Goofball: You noticed that, too? Yeah, it is getting pretty big isn't it. That doesn't have anything to do with getting a dog, that is Harriet just getting fat. You notice how she never does anything anymore. She just comes home from work dead tired and hangs out on the couch? You do that for long enough and you start getting fat.

Wagsy: Um ... don't people get fat all over their body and not just in their belly region?

Goofball: You're mostly fat in your belly region.

Wagsy: Um yeah, but I'm a teddy bear.

Goofball: So? What's your point?

Wagsy: Um ...

Goofball: Are you trying to imply that Harriet has a tumor? Is she getting a dog to keep her company during chemo-therapy?!

Wagsy: Um ... help! HELP! Pudgie! Buffy! Help! Help!

The Rubber Hits the Chicken Crossing the Road

2006-04-10T22:47:00.000-04:00

Goofball: Her name was Lola, she was a farmer. Hay and straw were in her hair and her shirt came down to there --

Platy: H-h-h-i-i. Hi, Goofball.

Goofball: Hey there, Platy. How's my favorite platypus doing?

Platy: Okay. Hi.

Goofball: Hi back atcha. You got something you want to say to me, or you just wanna hang out?

Platy: I want to tell you something.

Goofball: Well, take your time. No rush. I'm not going anywhere or doing anything important. We got all the time in the word. When you figure out what you want to say, just come on out and say. Don't be afraid.

Platy: Harriet is going to have puppies.

Goofball: I'm not sure I heard that correctly.

Platy: Harriet is going to have puppies.

Goofball: She's going to have poppies? Ozzie buying her flowers? Is that what you're trying to say?

Platy: No, pup-pies, pUP-pies, puppies.

Goofball: That's horrible news. I can't believe it. I thought Ozzie was allergic to dogs. We're going to have some slobbery, eager, polyester munching hell hound roaming our hallways! This ain't cool at all. How could they just spring it on us without warning? What sort of protections will be in place for the bears? We need to know. First a body pillow and now puppies. Things in this household are going from bad to worse.

Platy: I just thought you should know.

Goofball: Thanks for the heads up little guy. I appreciate you letting me in on the secret.

Discussing a Dilemma

2006-04-07T23:41:00.000-04:00

Wagsy: Um ... what do you think we should do? Should we tell him?

Buffy: Oh my god, he totally knows already. Right? I mean who couldn't know. It's like totally obvious.

Wagsy: Um ... um ... I don't think he does know.

Buffy: It's got to be an act right? Like even Jessica Simpson back when she was a charming ditz wasn't so dim.

Pudgie: I think you are forgetting that Goofball is still a very young bear with little worldly experience. I don't think he has ever encountered the concept of pregnancy.

Wagsy: I think Pudgie is right about that. Goofball has seen babies in The Incredibles and Monsters Inc, but um ... I don't think anyone is pregnant in those films.

Buffy: I still can't believe it. I thought it was a totally charming act he just put on. I feel so ... betrayed.

Pudgie: How could you possibly feel betrayed by pure and innocent naivety?

Buffy: Like he seems like a down bear. You know you've seen it. His witty banter is hip, you know? But like if you're not picking up on the fact that Harriet is pregnant, you must be like missing out on a lot of things. Like maybe Goofball is one of those telethon kids.

Wagsy: Um ... I think you're being a little bit hard on Goofball. He says a lot of smart things.

Buffy: Like that might be the case, but this is most aggregious. Check this out, "Hey Platy! Come over here."

Platy: H-h-h-i-i, Buffy. Do you want to play hide and seek?

Buffy: Like maybe later, kid. Like I want to ask you a question, and it is like really important. Have you noticed anything different about Harriet?

Platy: She's becoming round like me. But she isn't brown or upside down like me.

Buffy: Do you know why Harriet is getting round?

Platy: Harriet is going to have puppies.

Buffy: See, like this totally proves my point. Even Platy knows Harriet is pregnant.

Wagsy: Um ... um ...

Pudgie: The aardvark provides a powerful demonstration of her point.

Wagsy: Um ... I think we're in more trouble than I thought.

Buffy: You think?! What was your first hint? How about the fact that Harriet looks like she is smuggling watermelons, the bed is overrun by a body pillow, the guest room has baby stuff in it, and Goofball still couldn't get a clue if someone told him Ms. Scarlet in the Lounge with the knife?!

Wagsy: Um ... so ... um ... who is going to tell him? You want to do it, Buffy?

Buffy: As if! Did you like pick me because I am a woman and supposed to be all nurturing and stuff? This aardvark is 100% attitude. I'm totally the wrong person to tell Goofball that he is being a doofus.

Pudgie: Once again, Buffy illustrates her point forcefully. While I would not relish the job, I will volunteer for the task. The mysteries of life and biology are an important and fascinating lesson for a young bear. The isomorphisms between fetal chordates is really quite remarkable. In fact, it is difficult to distinguish between many species until --

Wagsy: Um, thanks for volunteering Pudgie, but maybe we can find someone a little more ... um ... a little less ... um ... a ... um ... help me out here, Buffy.

Buffy: Eggheaded?

Wagsy: Um ... I was looking for a nicer word.

Pudgie: This household never ceases to amaze. If anyone needs me, I will be reading Hume in the study.

Wagsy: Um ... have you seen Platy?

Buffy: Maybe he's playing hide and seek. Like I sometimes wonder if he's playing the game solitaire.

Go Teddy Bruins!

2006-04-03T21:32:00.000-04:00

Hi there. Sitting here watching the game with Ozzie. Good start to the evening. Plenty o' couch sittin' and chillin' with my person to go around. Naturally, I am rooting for UCLA. Had 'em going all the way. I sure did. I think I won our house pool. We don't know much about basketball, so we didn't bother picking all the games -- just the championship game. So here were our picks:

Gladstone: California

Wagsy: UConn and Gonzaga (I don't know why he got to pick two teams. Why not three or four teams, while you are at it. Did he forget about Southern Illinois and Washington and Georgetown?)

Squawky: Marquette and Boston College

Lobby: LSU and Memphis (apparently, he feels some affinity for tigers ... I don't ask too many questions, or make any judgement. Goofball reports, you decide.)

UCLA at least got to the final round, so I win right? There isn't much riding on the game. Everyone chipped in ten minutes with the body pillow during the day. I reckon that I will get an hour or so surrounded in plushy comfort. I could use the down time. It is a stressful and bizarre time around here. I can't quite my finger on it. I'll let you know when I figure it out.

------UPDATE--------
That didn't go very well, did it now? Still, luxuriating in polyster filling will do a lot to ease my disappointment.

Kidnapping Gumby

2006-04-02T23:04:00.000-04:00

Um ... hello! Um ... weird ... um ... weird things are happening around the house. Um ... I don't really know how to describe it. That's the problem with havin' stuffin' for brains. Um ... um ... I don't know how to summarize the events. Um ... maybe this picture will help.

We kidnapped Gumby! Yeah, yeah. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but Gumby was hogtied, placed in a big plastic bag, and now sitting on the floor. Um ... it is novel. We've never had an 80s icon hogtied in our house before. Um ... we're not really sure what to do with him now. How does one dispose of a claymation star?

Napoleon Dynamute

2006-04-02T21:36:00.000-04:00

So like one problem with living in nowheresville is that you don't get to see all the good movies. I mean we get most of the movies with hot stars -- and that is like the most important thing -- but we usually miss seeing hot indy flicks with buzz. How am I supposed to ride the zeitgeist if the zeit has come and gone?

Luckily, Netflix rides to the rescue and let's me make up for lost time. Oh my god, I have caught up on soooo many movies that came and went before I even knew to see them. And since The Bend is now a distribution center, we get our movies way fast. It has improved my quality of life more than polar fleece and like it gets wicked cold here.

This week I watched Napoleon Dynamite. I chose it because I saw some kids walking around with "Vote for Pedro" shirts and I figured it might still be relevant. I mean, some kids are saying that the movie captures the high school dynamic and stuff. After sitting through that movie, I'm wondering what type of messed up high school these kids go to. All of the male characters act like retarded eight year olds with delusions of grandeur and autism. Please. Not only is it totally ridiculous, but I have no idea why the writers think I might want to watch these guys. And the idea that an unknown loser could defeat the popular cheerleader in an election because one of his friends danced on stage is like nothing more than wishful thinking.

But my biggest complaint is that the movie takes forever. The first line of dialogue is a little boy asking Napoleon, "What are you going to do today, Napoleon?" and Napoleon totally snaps back, "Whatever I feel like I wanna do, gosh!" which like might be okay, but Napoleon doesn't think of anything to do the entire movie. I mean nothing ever happens, the dialogue is more boring than termites, and none of the characters have any redeeming characteristics. Napoleon and his brother continually lie about knowing lame martial arts and are totally rude to everyone. It isn't entertaining listening to 13 year olds claim to be cage fighting ninjas, why did the writers think it would be any better watching a 32 year old make the same stupid claims?

So, like the only halfway good thing I can say about the film is that there are some absurd images. Feeding disgruntled llamas looks hard and moving chickens is totally disgusting. Oh my god. Watching the chicken farm scenes made my fur tingle. But really, they are just trying too hard. It is like a film student saw some posters from David Lynch films and didn't realize there was story, characters, and dialogue surrounding the images. Pathetic. Like the climax of the movie has Napoleon dancing on a black stage alone. The scene is sorta surreal, but mostly is trying too hard and not worthy of a climax. Hello! The midget dancing in a red room was only a scene in Twin Peaks and not like the point.

So like once again, I have no clue what high school students want. I didn't understand Garden State and I'm totally at a loss with Napoleon Dynamite. At least Zach Braff is okay looking. Listening to mean losers talk about bo sticks, wolverine hunting, and ligers is not my idea of a good time.

Dance! Why Won't You Dance!

2006-03-21T22:56:00.000-05:00

Hi there. So the NCAA has kicked off its annual celebration of exploited "student athletes." Lots of young men are making money for universities, but receive little in return other than food and housing. They are SUPPOSED to receive an education, but the low graduation rates say contrariwise. If I was a bear of principle, I'd boycott the NCAA tournament and refuse to watch a single game. And I am a bear of principle, but I am also a bear of practicality. We're not a Nielson household, so noone knows if I am watching and I can use my virtual soapbox to speak out about this injustice. So I watch but I feel a little guilty about it.

But watching has been a little dissatisfying this year. Why? I'm glad you asked. It is dissatisfying because I am watching by myself for the most part. Basketball is for cuddling not for watching! I don't know what is going on around here. Harriet isn't eating chocolate, Ozzie isn't watching basketball, and Wagsy doesn't pounce in the morning. It is like I'm living in a Bizarro version of The Bend. I'll know that I am going insane when Professor Pudge Bear starts extoling the virtues of reality TV and dissing Dostoevsky.

It just isn't fair. March is primo bonding time for me and Ozzie. Ozzie tells me about the defensive strategy being employed and I make wry comments about the sartorial selections of the coaches. I even had a whole slew of Herb Sendek jokes lined up, but no audience ever materialized. I tried the line on Duck, but he just whacked me on the nose and left the room. Ozzie is missing a great tournament. I don't even like basketball and I think the games are exciting. Who doesn't want to watch Bradley take down Kansas? Or George Mason know off Carolina? Last second shots are exciting, darn it!

So I have had to adapt my bear-boy bonding strategies. Rather than Ozzie explaining the game to me, I watch the game and recount the events to Ozzie. He's a very attentive audience and I appreciate the attention, but this doesn't exactly play to my strengths. In order to recount and recapitulate, I have to count and capitulate in the first place. But it makes Ozzie happy, so I tell him the tale of how fearless Jermaine Wallace slew the mighty Iowa Hawkeyes.

Hey, in this crazy world a bear has to do what he can to get attention and cuddling. I'm not proud, just practical.

A Trip to the Bear Spa

2006-03-19T22:16:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! How are you? I feel like myself today, but I didn't so much yesterday. Yesterday, I had to make a trip to the bear spa. Yeah, yeah. I make a point of going every year or two. My fur isn't as white and fluffy as it used to be, so I get washed and enjoy the cleansing action of Woolite. Um ... I don't really look forward to it. Um ... in fact, I hate it. I get bopped around in the spa and I get water up my snout and it just isn't fun. And sitting around wet in the house can be really stressful. What if I don't dry quickly and get moldy! That wouldn't be very nice.

But Harriet doesn't like it when I get sniffy, so I go. And I want to set a good example for the other bears. Goofball still hasn't been washed and is pretty adamant that he never will be. Um ... I don't have the heart to tell him that mold creeps onto your body that way too. Yeah, yeah, it is a very fine line between being washed too frequently and not being washed enough.

Um ... here I am lounging in the kitchen before the big moment. Notice how calm and cool I look. I'm not shaking at all. The Wags Dog knows his duty and accepts his fate. Harriet gave me a kiss on the nose, too. That helped a lot.

When going to the spa, it is very important to wear protective clothing. It is a full contact sport. Oooh, your body can get so sore tossing and turning. The spa robe is a little restrictive. I was kind of hoping that we would get a bigger and softer spa robe when we moved to South Bend, but this is okay.

Again, notice how calm and cool I look as I wave goodbye to my bunny. Not a hint of fear or panic crosses my face.

Um ... okay ... now I am starting to panic. I hadn't seen the new spa room. It ... um ... it isn't very glamorous. I don't think Hollywood stars go to this spa. It looks like a dungeon down here. Um ... I think I am the cleanest thing down here. Um ... why did I get sent somewhere dirty to get clean? ... Hello? ... Hello! ... Can anyone hear me? ... Scared and lonely bear here. ... Hello!

Um ... I made it out of the bear spa, but I am not happy about it. I am not happy. Not one bit. I am cold and wet and worried that I might get moldy.

Oooh, my bunny George came down to sit with me while I dry. Um ... he must like me a lot. I like him, too. And now that I think about it, I kinda like sitting about the heating vent. It is blowing warm air on my tookus. Um ... am I allowed to use strong language like tookus on the blog? Um ... anyhow, the air is dry, so I don't think I will get moldy. It is verrry important to wash your bears on days when there is low humidity. Humidity is the natural enemy of teddy bears.

Um ... this is more like it. After all that stress, I needed to recover with my loyal George and Lobby. It isn't very often that I get the body pillow and bed all to myself. I guess this is the reward that a bear gets for extreme bravery.

But ... um ... I'll let you on a little secret. I now have a secret weapon against Ozzie. Yeah, yeah. I don't know whether it was the spa or the drying rack, but I am really, really staticky. I'm kind of like the empereor in Return of the Jedi. Lightning shoots from my paws! And my fur holds all type of funny shapes. But mostly, I'm going to shock Ozzie when he comes to bed.

Ooooooh, Oozzzziiiieeee! Oooooooh, Ooozzzzziiiieee! Um ... I have something to tellll youuuuuuuu!

A furry lobster

2006-03-09T00:33:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! Verrry exciting news from the Pacific Ocean. Scientists have discovered a furry lobster. Um ... it doesn't look very cuddly, but it definitely is furry.

Um ... I don't know what the fuss is all about. We've had a furry lobster in our house for years. Yeah, yeah. He's very friendly, too. Everyone likes Lobby (there are even t-shirts that say so).

Maybe the scientists just weren't looking hard enough.

A furry lobster on laundry
Originally uploaded by Bear in the Bed.

A Call to Bear Arms

2006-03-06T17:48:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! Oooh, so much has happened in the past few nights, it is hard to know where to begin. We've been surprisingly active. Shockingly active. Um ... we ousted Ozzie from the bed. Yeah, yeah, he's sleeping in the guest room now. I'm stunned. Days later and I still haven't been able to wrap my head around it. Um ... wow. I'm so stunned that I couldn't even keep the suspense through this post. I just blurted it out. Ozzie is in the guest bed and the bears are sleeping with Harriet and the body pillow.

Um ... it all started with Goofball's rabble-rousing ...

Goofball: There comes a time in the course of household events, it becomes necessary for bears to assume power over the bed to ensure equal station.

Moose: Moose!

Goofball: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all bears are created equal.

Buffy: Like that so isn't true. I mean, you'd freak if Ozzie said he could like swap you with any other bear and it would be all the same to him.

Goofball: Work with me here, I'm on a roll.

Moose: Moose!

Goofball: Bears are endowed by their person with certain unalienable rights. Among these are cleanliness!

Wagsy Um ... yeah. I'm getting a little sniffy now that you mention it.

Goofball: Cuddling!

Wagsy: Oooh, I like cuddling.

Goofball: And the pursuit of napping.

Wagsy: Oooh, it would be tough to beat napping.

Buffy: Like you just said that you like cuddling. Make up your mind already.

Wagsy: Um ... I like both napping and cuddling. Um ... if I had to choose one, I don't know what I'd do.

Goofball: You shouldn't have to choose between napping and cuddling. That is the whole point. All bears should have both napping and cuddling.

Wagsy: Ooooh, napping AND cuddling. That's verrry nice. I can't think of anything I like more than cuddling while napping, unless it's napping while cuddling.

Buffy: Like are you going to get to your point sometime in the next week? I should be sketching out the storyboard for my next photoshoot.

Goofball: I'm glad you asked. To secure these rights, persons and bears enter into a furry compact. Persons derive their rightful powers from the consent of the bears. Whenever the relationship because destructive of these ends, it is the right of the bears to alter or abolish the compact.

Moose: Moo ... moo ... ooo ... ?

Wagsy: Um ... I don't get it either.

Goofball: We aren't getting cuddling, you fur brains, so we should do something about it!

Wagsy: I say we form a committee and nap on the committee.

Gladstone: I propose that we draft a letter stating our grievances, and present the missive to Harriet for her consideration.

Goofball: That's the type of do nothing attitude I expected from you lot. You're all pathetic.

Platy: No. I'm brown. I'm round. And I'm upside down.

Buffy: Could you just tell us what you want us to do and then we could decide if we wanted to do it? Some of us have careers to manage.

Goofball: I propose that we insert ourselves into the bed tonight.

Wagsy: Um ... I like that idea. But I don't love it.

Goofball: What's wrong with that idea? What's not to love?

Wagsy: Um ... with the body pillow and Harriet and Ozzie ... um ... there isn't much room on the bed for us. We'll get thrown off or rolled upon.

Goofball: Well, we'll just have to get rid of the body pillow.

Buffy: Hello! We like gave her the body pillow. You can't give something and then take it back. That is totally rude.

Moose: Moose!

Goofball: Okay, then we'll just have to get rid of Ozzie.

Wagsy: Um ... we've been trying to do that for years and he's still here.

Platy: Ozzie took me to Washington, DC.

Wagsy: Okay, okay, I don't really want to get rid of the pillowhead. But ... um ... I don't think he'll be easy to move.

Goofball: We just gotta go about it the right way. He won't listen to us.

Wagsy: No, no, he just picks me up by my leg and casts me off the bed.

Goofball: Exactly. But he will listen to ... Harriet!

Wagsy: Good point. Um ... I still don't think I get it.

Goofball: We just need to get in the bed before Ozzie, you see. We lounge around and look all cute, and then Harriet will come in and want to cuddle with us. Harriet starts to get a little tired and so we pounce and put her right to sleep. So when Ozzie comes upstairs, he finds Harriet asleep and the bed overrun by bears. He doesn't want to wake Harriet, so he goes to sleep in the guest bed.

Gladstone: I don't often say this, but that is a brilliant idea, my good fellow. Simply smashing idea.

Moose: Moose!

Wagsy: Um ... that is crazy enough that it might just work.

Goofball: The idea isn't crazy at all! It is just sound tactics. Find your opponent's weakness and start poking the weakness with a big stick!

Wagsy: Okay, okay. I know it isn't crazy. I just watched Charles in Charge today and wanted to use the line. Um ... I think it is a good plan. Mostly because it involves cuddling. Even if Ozzie kicks us off the bed, we'll still get cuddling.

Buffy: Like you can count me in, cuz mostly it involves laying around looking cute. I have that down like a bed and breakfast comforter.

Um ... and what do you know, the plan has worked three nights in a row. Um ... I wonder how long it will last. I miss the cheesecake butt a little, but I like cuddling with Harriet a whole lot more.

A Poem for Victory

2006-03-04T19:43:00.000-05:00

Hi there. Things have been mighty strange round these parts, and I don't know what to make of it. There are zebras everywhere, Ozzie and Harriet have been fixin up the house, and a big tube of polyster has supplanted the bears in the bed. None of these events strike me as an improvement for the bears. Sure, the zebras can be kind of cute sometimes and I suppose the new railing for the stairs is fun to slide on, but the zebras are loud, there is drywall dust everywhere, and the bed is overrun by polyester that is not me.

An even stranger change is Harriet. She's hasn't been acting like herself lately. She's always tired and has heart burn that won't quit. I'm serious, that girl pops Tums and Pepcid and Xantac like they were candy. And just between you and me, she's put on a lot of weight. No wonder she looks tired, she's carrying around an extra watermelon or two. Big watermelons.

But the strangest thing going on in the house is how everyone is treating Harriet. Normally, when she looks tired all the bears would pounce on her and make her take a nap. And sometimes we do exactly that. But most of the time, Wagsy and George and Lobby all help push Harriet out of bed in the morning. The first time I saw it, I just couldn't believe it. Here was a woman that would could easily sleep another hour and teddy bears are pushing her out?! What sort of alternate universe are we living in?

So to rectify the situation, and in honor of today's auspicious date (being March 4th), I issue a poetic call to arms to my fellow teddy bears!

March forth eager bears of polyester
Dreams of cuddling must be acted upon
Seize the prize and nap with furry flourish

The horn has been sounded (in true trochaic pentameter no less). Will the fur balls in the house listen?

The Zebra Infestation

2006-02-28T22:24:00.000-05:00

Sadly, we have yet to rid our household of the zebra infestation. Zebras are sufficiently rare that the general populace does not give zebras much thought. To the extent that people consider zebras, I suspect that they consider zebras well decorated horses and generally well behaved. The empirical evidence collected over the past few weeks indicates that while zebras may be attractive, they are loud, rambunctious and generally undomesticated. I do not possess sufficient control over the situation in the household to test this hypothesis, but my educated guess is that the zebras feed off one another and possessing multiple zebras at once is worse than a series of isolated zebras. That is, the mayhem caused by zebras is multiplicative rather than additive.

The effect of the cacophony of running, eating, and neighing is quite maddening. The baseline level of chaos in this household makes it difficult for me to work, but the zebra inflated pandemonium is unbearable and beginning to wear upon my sanity.

This picture accurately depicts the situation in our household on many levels. First, you will notice that there is a zebra in the picture. The reason that a zebra appears in the photo is because it is hard to find a space where a zebra is not present. The zebras are everywhere. Second, the photo also depicts bananas. While bananas are not ubiquitous, they serve as an apt metaphor for my frayed nerves. Listen to the barking neigh of the zebras again. Now imagine a house full of hyperactive zebras attempting to talk over one another. Try as you might, it is impossible to imagine the pain and anguish we all suffer by living with a zebra infestation. Finally, the juxtaposition of wild animal and human consumables evokes parasites and diseases. Zebras have been problematic disease vectors in the United States and implicated in the introduction of at least 36 arthropod borne diseases (see Table 1). These diseases largely effect livestock, which are thankfully absent from our household. However, the fact remains that feral animals are unsanitary and should not cohabitate with humans.

This photo captures my mental anguish. First, the zebras have infiltrated the library, which has always been my sanctuary. There is now truly no place for me to retreat and find solace and convalescence. Second, the zebra is hanging out with mystery books. How the zebras came to be in the household is a mystery. How to be rid of the zebras is a mystery. At this moment in time, I do not much care for mysteries along these lines. I would like simple and direct answers ...

... and a little peace and quiet.

Love is in the air

2006-02-22T22:32:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! How are you? Um ... we're doing pretty well here at Furry Thoughts for Fuzzy Times. Yeah, yeah. Ozzie told Goofball that he loved him. Oooh, it was very sweet. It represents a real detente in our relationship with Ozzie. Usually he's kind of grumpy and unfriendly and ... um ... well, a pillowhead. He once told me that he would rather spend an evening eating glass popsicles and listening to Wagnerian opera performed by middle schoolers rather than talk to me for five minutes. I don't think he meant it, but it wasn't a very nice thing to say. I happen to like chatting and everyone I talk to agrees that I am very good at it.

Um ... hmmm ... um ... where was I? Oh yeah, Ozzie loves Goofball. You know, that moment made my heart go pitter-pat. It's so nice to see a grown man bond with his bear. But ... um ... it also made me a little sad because Ozzie has never said that he loves me. In fact, he ... um ... has gone out of the way to say that he doesn't love me. The closest he has ever come to paying me a compliment is saying that I would make a very quiet door stop. Um ... yeah, I didn't like the sound of that very much either. But you know, he doesn't actually use me as a Swiffer. And he helps us blog. And he helps design our t-shirts. I think his actions speak louder than his words. Oooh, oooh, you might even say that his bark is worse than his bite. ... That's funny because I'm a dog. ... um ... no one seems to be laughing at my joke. Um ... moving on, if Ozzie is feeling weak and being free with the sweet nothings, then I figure I should strike while the sheets are clean.

Ozzie! Oooh, Ozzie! Ooooooozie! Ozzie!

Ozzie: I'm right here, Wagsy.

So you are. Fancy that. How are you today?

Ozzie: A little tired, but nothing out of the ordinary.

A little tired are we? ... (Watch how I subtlely move in for the pounce) ... Are you tired of all the games people play ... um ... you know, saying one thing and acting another?

Ozzie: Maybe. Really, I just did a lot of data cleaning today. I didn't interact with people much.

So ... um ... you're seeking the love and companionship of a loyal bear?

Ozzie: No. No, I was thinking of maybe catching the tail end of a basketball game. Maybe catch up on some correspondence.

Say you love me, Ozzie!

Ozzie: No, --

No, you won't say it, but you actually mean it?

Ozzie: No, --

Oooh, oooh! So you will say it! He just said it.

Ozzie: I said no such thing. This place is crazy.

But you don't deny it, do you? Oooh, oooh! He's not denying it! He's not denying it.

Ozzie: I don't love you, Wagsy!

I don't believe it. I'll make you answer a simple question. Do you love me?

Ozzie: No.

Um ... just answer my question, Ozzie. Do you love me?

Ozzie: No.

Let's see, what did Goofball ask next? ... okay, I'll speak very slowly so you can understand me, cheesecake butt (I just threw that part in), do ... you ... um ... love me?

Ozzie: No! And will you please leave me alone?!

What's wrong, Ozzie? You told Goofball you loved him the other day.

Ozzie: Wagsy, I'm not in the mood for this game right now. Please just -- OW! What on Earth was that?

Um ... George came to defend my honor! I love my bunny George. And he must love me because he came to protect me!

Ozzie: That really hurt. That freakish bunny of your just punched me in the eye!

Yeah, yeah, he does that sometimes. He spars with Lobby and he gets mad when he loses staring contests. Yeah, George is the enforcer of the household. ... And he did it just for me!

Ozzie: I think he scratched my cornea. My eye really hurts.

Um ... are you okay, Ozzie?

Ozzie: No, I'm not okay.

He didn't mean to hurt you. At least I don't think he meant it.

Ozzie: What you mean? The bunny jumped up and punched me in the eye. ... What am I saying? I just got beat up by a frickin' stuffed bunny! ... I'm going downstairs.

Goodbye, Ozzie! I hope your eye feels better.

Um ... that conversation didn't go quite as I planned. Um ... Ozzie didn't say that he loves me, but George defended me. Oooh, I love my bunny. George usually looks grumpy and doesn't say that he loves me, but I know that he does. Actions speak louder than words you know.

Oooh, oooh! And Ozzie gave me George. That must mean that he loves me, too! Oh, this has been a very good day.

I love you, Ozzie!

Ozzie: Get bent you over stuffed bath mat!

Well, that wasn't a very nice way to end the post. Was it?

A Question

2006-02-15T23:28:00.000-05:00

Ozzie, Ozzie, come here.

Ozzie: Yeah, Goofball, what do you want?

You know Valentine's Day was yesterday and I see that you didn't buy any flowers.

Ozzie: I was a little busy on Tuesday with teaching and consulting. I didn't really get around to it.

You don't think that you might have offended someone by not buying flowers? People usually get mad at you for things you say or do, but there are sins of omission you know.

Ozzie: Don't worry, Goofball. I cleared it with Harriet before. She understands.

She wasn't the one I was thinking of.

Ozzie: Oh, you think that I should have bought Buffy and Amelia flowers? I've never done it before, but that's not a half-bad idea. But I would feel a little silly buying flowers for teddy bears. And I don't think they really expected it.

No, no, no. I'm talking about me. Why didn't you buy me flowers?!

Ozzie: Well, uh, gee, I, well, for starters, I didn't know that you wanted flowers. Do you even like flowers?

Not really, but that's beside the point. It's the thought that counts. Why didn't you buy me flowers ... or the equivalent?

Ozzie: I don't know what to say, Goofball. I've never thought of buying my teddy bear flowers before.

Don't you love me?

Ozzie: Where did this come from? If I wanted needy affirmation, I would have had a beer with the graduate students.

Just answer my question, Ozzie. Do you love me?

Ozzie: Is something wrong, Goofball? I don't understand.

It's a simple question, but I'll ask it slowly so you can understand. Do ... you ... love ... me?

Ozzie: Wow, you're really upset about something. Yes, yes, I do love you, Goofball.

Good, I love you, too, Ozzie. I just wanted to make sure that we're on the same page. A bear can't go investing his emotional energies into relationships and then have the rug pulled out from under him.

Ozzie: Are you going to tell me what this is all about?

Well, you know, I just the feeling that things are going to change. And I don't like change. Not one bit. As far as I am concerned, everything should be frozen in time just like it is now. I'm happy, you're happy, Harriet is happy, everyone is happy. Why fix the boat if it ain't leaking?

Ozzie: Do you want to see Buffy become famous?

Oh, you bet! I want nothing but the best for that girl.

Ozzie: Well, if we stopped the clock last year, we wouldn't have seen Buffy land that modeling job. Did you enjoy meeting and training Bear and Pi?

Why are you asking these questions? You know I adore those kids. I was a little sad to see them go, but they were excited to go meet their new families.

Ozzie: Why was it okay to see them go?

You know it is kind of the life cycle of teddy bears. You get purchased from the store, you go home with responsible people who treat you nicely but nevr really get attached, and then you're given to some slobbery creature that is going to bite you and abuse you. But hopefully, that kid will bond with you and you'll have your person. That's kind of the way it works and Bear and Pi had to go find their people.

Ozzie: See, not all change is bad.

I reckon you have a point there, Ozzie. But I still don't have to like change. By and large, it is bad for the bears.

Ozzie: Would I have told you that I love you last year?

No, no I don't think you would have. And I appreciate you saying it.

Ozzie: Yeah, please don't make me say it again.

As long as you always love me, big fella.

Ozzie: Deal.

Happy Valentines Day to Me

2006-02-14T22:51:00.000-05:00

Like I was kinda bummed this Valentine's Day. Normally I like have someone to project my emotions onto. But like this Valentine's Day, I'm just not feeling it. Last year I was on Brad Pitt like an aardvark on ants on honey. I totally don't regret anything that was said or done -- this aardvark doesn't look in the rearview mirror -- but I just don't feel the same way about anyone right now. Is it possible that there isn't anyone in this world worthy of an innocent crush right now? I've looked around, but everyone seems deficient in some way. Jude Law is a big old skank. Viggo Mortensen seems too moody. Harrison Ford turned like 900 this year. I still think that Ted might be smarter than the actor who played him, at least he didn't take himself too seriously. Nicolas Cage went out and married someone younger than I am, which is way creepy. It really seems like there is noone worthy of a crush.

Either that or that aren't famous enough to help my career. I mean it is totally possible that every high school in this nation has some local hottie that every girl swoons over. But like ... what do I care? I mean that kid might end up being an insurance adjuster or something. And I'm sure that is a perfectly fine job for the former letterman varisty athlete dude, but like it isn't very glamorous. If I am going to make the emotional leap to have a crush on someone I hardly know, that someone better be really famous.

Maybe I'm the one who changed. Maybe I have outgrown crushes. I mean this time last year, I never would have dreamed that I would have my own high fashion ad campaign. Okay, I lied. I totally dreamed it. I was sure that I was going to be famous and thought about it all the time. It didn't happen quite the way I thought it would. I figured I would fire my publicist. That just seemed pro forma. I mean, what star doesn't fire their agent or publicist or friend. I mean how cool is that? Stars can fire their friends! That totally rocks. But like I didn't have an agent and Amelia isn't going anywhere (she's my *rock*), so the publicist had to go. But I kinda thought I would land a gig with CK and not some lame start up company from a totally depressing area of the world. They totally held up their end of the bargain my getting my face all over th NYC, but like I dreamed bigger. I'm sure it is going to happen.

So like I was down for a while and wondering what I needed. After thinking about it for a while, I decided that I have got pretty much everything I need. I get to hang with my best friend, Amelia, pretty much all day every day. She's always there for me, is totally hilarious, and keeps me out of trouble. And Harriet and I are still tight. I mean we've been together all these years and we haven't gotten tired of each other yet. My career may not be A-list glamorous, but I figure I have like a decent shot of getting a corner square on Hollywood Squares, or maybe one of the rows. If I don't ever make the center square, that's okay, you know? Really, when all the ants are out of the ant hill, I'm pretty happy with who I am and where I am going and who I'm going with.

So like, this is a Valentine for me and everyone in my family. I totally adore all of you (and I think I'm pretty cute, myself *giggle*).

Zounds!

2006-02-12T17:47:00.000-05:00

Holy mackrel are there a lot of zebras in the house! Everywhere I turn I see a zebra. There are zebras in the kitchen, zebras in the family room, and zebras in the bedroom. The zebras have found their way into pretty much every nook and cranny in this house. This zebra infestation is a new phenomenon. We didn't used to have a problem with zebras. They just kind of came into the house and set up shop. At first they were a little shy and were hiding behind things.

But once they figured out that we are a friendly bunch and wouldn't hurt them, they made themselves at home and started running all over the place. You can't turn around without laying eyes on a zebra. The effect is kind of unnerving, to be perfectly honest. All these beady eyes watching everything you do. It is enough to make a bear paranoid ... but you aren't paranoid if hoardes of feral zebras really are watching you!

And I think they know they are getting under our skin. They tease us. They run amuck and play with our emotions. Here is one sitting in a glass bowl from Murano.

I can't imagine sitting in that bowl because no one in the house is allowed to touch it! When guests come, the bowl is put away in a padded box and treated like the Q-bomb from The Mouse that Roared. These destructive little zebras are sitting in the most fragile thing in the house (other than Pudgie's psyche) just to put us on edge. The gall! The nerve!

So I've decided that we've got to put an end to this zebra infestation. I did a quick google search to see if our zebra problem was like bird flu and spreading throughout the world. Apparently, zebra mussels are a major problem, but there is no mention of regular zebras. I tried explaining to the guys in the house that only zebra mussels infest areas. Since these zebras aren't mussels there couldn't be an infestation and they should just go home. QED. Sound logic, right? Well the zippity-doo-dah zebras didn't pay attention and continued to tear around with no concern for personal property and personal space.

No wonder zebras are endangered.

Zebra Invasion!

2006-02-10T22:10:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! It was a very busy week here in the bed. Harriet and Ozzie spent a lot of time at work, so we had to entertain ourselves. Usually that isn't very hard, because, well, we like napping, and cuddling, and reading, and napping some more, and singing, and, did I mention that we like napping? Yeah, yeah. But for some reason, one of us decided to open the door and some small furry creatures rushed into the house! Oooh! It was very scary. We could hear rustling and things breaking in the kitchen, but we didn't know what to do.

I wanted to hide. There I said it. I did. I did want to hide. Under the covers. Nothing can get you when you are under the covers. It is true, you know. Bed sheets are sprinkled with pixie dust that keeps monsters away. It was probably just mice downstairs and I don't think sheets work against mice, but just in case they were monsters, I wanted to hide under the covers.

Goofball and Buffy wanted to go welcome our new visitors ...

Buffy: Like what type of hosts would we be if we didn't go downstairs and say hello? Like we'd be totally lame hosts.

Goofball: I agree with the aardvark. We don't get very many visitors in The Bend and we should hold onto everyone who comes through this door. I don't care who it is. I'd give a big hug and a high five to Paul Reubens if he stepped into the room right now.

Buffy: Oh my god, wasn't he like that disturbed man-child actor from the 80s? Like I don't know what I'd do if I met him because like he used to be a star and hot, but then it turned out that he was a real creep and he isn't really famous anymore. And you'd think that the creep unfamous part would win out, but he liked entertained a generation of young children and I totally loved his performance in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That death scene still cracks me up.

Goofball: Yeah, we all know how you feel about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy.

Buffy: Like I don't know where you are going with that, but like I'm going to cut you off right there, cuz I was like named waaaaaay before 1992. I don't like to talk about how old I am, because I think what is important is how old you feel on the inside and stuff, but I am totally not named after the movie. I just like it. They could have named the main character "Jessica" and I still would have liked it. It wouldn't have been as good a movie or anything, but it still would have been entertaining.

Goofball: Okay, okay. Just sayin' you like the movie.

Buffy: As if. Whatever. Like what are we going to do about the ruffians downstairs?

Wagsy Um ... I still think we shoud hide. Maybe they will be get tired and leave us alone. Or maybe they will get tired and take a nap. I like meeting new people when they are napping.

Goofball: You don't get out much, do you?

Wagsy: Um, no, no I don't.

Goofball: It shows. That is one of the worst ideas I have heard. Now don't get me wrong, I like napping as much as the next bear, but you can't meet someone for the first time when they are napping. Everyone seems nice napping. I bet if you took a picture of Hitler and Ghandi napping, they would both look pretty sweet. It was what they were doing when they were awake that made the difference!

Wagsy: Yeah, but, um ..., how do we know they are nice? There is a lot of activity going on downstairs and, um ... breakage. We might not have bear friendly visitors.

Goofball: I reckon that Wagsy has a point there. We are left with something of a connumdrum. Iffin we go downstairs and meet our uninvited guests, then we might be turned into bird nestin' material.

Wagsy: Oooh!

Goofball: But if we don't go downstairs and see what is cookin', then maybe we will miss out meeting someone nice.

Buffy: Or famous.

Goofball: Or famous. I dont see how we get around this dilemma.

Pudgie: May I suggest an expedition?

Wagsy: Oooh, an expedition sounds nice. Are we going to run away from the vistors?

Pudgie: (sigh) A small bear experienced in travel and espionage could sneak downstairs, see what is going on, and report back to us on the situation. You could then make a more informed decision as to whether to greet the new arrivals.

Goofball: I knew there was a reason we called you Professor!

Buffy: Like you mean it's not just a reference to Gilligan's Island? Like I always thought that Pudgie was the professor, I was Ginger, and Amelia was Mary Ann. Gladstone is Thurston Howell III and like I was never quite sure who was Mrs. Howell. But like it all worked out pretty well before that, you know?

Pudgie: I am offended to be mentioned in the same sentence as a character from Gilligan's Island. I am a scholar, not some ridiculous, over used archetype on a hackneyed sitcom that was trite before its time.

Goofball: Whooo-wee! Buffy seems to have touched a nerve there, professor. Drop those coconuts, Gilligan! That joke never got old. Don't feel bad though, Pudgie, at least you were the smart one on the island. Poor stuffy over there was likened to the Millionaire. Hey, you got an opinion on the subject of Gilligan's Island, Stuffy?!

Gladstone: I am making a concerted effort to ignore your humdrum conversation and take solace in the pink pages of the Financial Times.

Pudgie: Once again I made the mistake of interacting with you cretins and trying to be helpful.

Goofball: You know what they say about doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.

Pudgie: That was Einstein and I am retiring to my study.

Goofball: Getting back on target, I think Pudgie's idea is great and I nominate the bunny.

Wagsy: I second the nomination. Um ... what did we nominate George for?

Goofball: To go downstairs and see who or what is going on.

Wagsy: Ooh! Not my George. What if they try to eat him?

Goofball: He's a trained CIA agent, he won't get caught.

Wagsy: Um ... do we know this for a fact? I mean, I've always kind of suspected that he is a CIA agent, but ... um ... what would one be doing here? I mean, we aren't exactly a hot bed of subversives. But ... what if something happens to George? I would never forgive myself.

Goofball: He's a grown bunny. Why don't you let him make the decision?

Wagsy: Um ... okay. That seems fair. Where is he? George? Geor-ge! I don't know where my bunny is.

Um ... I didn't know it at the time, but George had already sneaked downstairs to see what was causing the commotion. He's very brave. I'm still not convinced he's a CIA agent, but it is possible.

Um ... when George came back he told us that zebras had invaded the house. At first we were very excited, but then he said that they were feral zebras and running amuck. We had a zebra infestation! We've never been infested with zebras before. I've been up to my neck in pillows (that was nice) and I've been in a room full of Wagsys (oh, that was really nice), but I have never seen a wild zebra infestation. Um ... come to think of it, I do't think I have ever met a feral teddy bear before either.

So we decided to go downstairs and meet our house guests, but they weren't really in the mood for talking. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how many zebras were in the house. They were running all over the place and hard to count. We finally cornered two zebras and I tried to say greet them in a way they would understand.

What better way to say hello than with a lobster on your head? I think it is really a pretty universal symbol of hospitality. It's kind of like pineapples, only friendlier. Um ... I don't think the zebras understood because they ran off pretty quickly.

I don't know how we are going to explain this to Harriet and Ozzie.

Super Bowl XLackluster

2006-02-05T23:13:00.000-05:00

Phooey! The SuperBowl is usually one of the greatest couch sittin' days of the year. Lots of high quality commercials to watch and some decent football. Well ... it didn't work out that way this year, did it? The commercials were a big yawn and both football teams were too nervous to play well. After the past few Super Bowls, I've thought to myself, "Couldn't every day be Super Bowl Sunday?" This year, I wanted my four hours back. Yes, the game was that bad.

So what am I going to blog about now? It was mighty inconsiderate of the NFL not to provide better blogging material. I'll have to come up with something original to say rather than simply being reactive. I reckon I could do a better job being original if it wasn't so late in the evening.

How about a picture of me in a Santa hat? Now doesn't that just cheer you up? I reckon I look mighty cute in a Santa hat. And it works on multiple levels, you see? Santa gives presents, and here I am giving you a picture that will give you something to smile about.

Okay, okay. I know going back to the picture vault is a cheap tactic and I can do better. What can I say, I'm tired. Rather than napping, I was watching the pre-game and then the game and the post-game. Watching all that TV will make a bear tired.

Not that I am complaining, mind you. I suppose I have it pretty good here. Harriet hugs me a lot. All my friends live here. There is our weekly game of canasta. Things are pretty dry and clean in the house. Yup, I have it better than 99% of the bears out there. If you don't believe me, check out this video:

Now there is a bear living on the edge of danger. As if being hauled around by your ear isn't bad enough, the drooling little monster wants to feed the poor little bear to hungry dogs. That is NOT the life for me. Nosirreee bob. No way, no how do I want to get any where near one of those bear destroying little gremlins. And what is wrong with that mother? She seems perfectly content for the infant to be traumatized by watching his best friend be torn limb from limb by those dogs. That borders on criminal neglect. Wouldn't happen in this house. No children and no dogs. Every day I thank my lucky stars that Ozzie and Harriet are without child. I suppose they are a little sad about that, but the silver lining is that there is a lot of time for the bears.

Of course, that big ol' body pillow is taking up most of the bed. Gotta figure out how to get rid of that thing.

Live Blogging the Body Pillow

2006-02-02T22:18:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! How are you? Um ... I hope you are well. Um ... this isn't a very interactive medium, so I don't know why I said that. I suppose it can be an interactive medium, but I really shouldn't expect a reply to that question. Um ... um ... you know, having stuffin' for brains isn't always a good thing.

Um ... anyways, we have a new addition to the bed today. Yeah, yeah, Ozzie finally got off his butt and ordered Harriet's birthday present. Oooh, we are very excited that it arrived.

Um ... it's really big. We weren't really expecting that. Um ... it looks comfy and all, but ... um ... it is really Big. Where are all the bears going to fit?

Goofball: What is this "we" business. I was against this present from the start! There is a limited amount of space on the bed, so when something new arrives, something old has to leave, and I do NOT want to be the old thing that leaves!

Um ... yeah, yeah, you did make that point. And you were out voted. But ... um ... well ... you might have been right.

Goofball: Might?! Might! I MIGHT have been right?! I was right you over stuffed dust mop!

Oooh! Oooh! Um ... oooh! I don't think there is any reason to get personal, Goofball. Oooh! Who are you calling dust mop, buster?

Goofball: The white collection of lint and dust bunnies sitting in front of me.

Hey, hey, hey! Um ... hey! Stop that. This is my post, you can insult me another time. Or start your own post. Um ... let's just say that mistakes were made and we're going to move on.

Goofball: Hmmph, move onto the floor is more like it.

Hey! I heard that. Um ... that is a nice feature of the internet, I can hear everything anyone says. It's like I have super powers.

Um ... on closer inspection, the pillow is really big. Um ... it's like the length of five aardvarks and five armadillos combined. I measurement might be off by a few bunnies, though. I'm not much of an engineer. Um ... the pillow does look very soft.

You know, I think the real question isn't where the bears will sleep, but where Ozzie and Harriet will sleep. The body pillow is really comfy. It's soft, and warm, and there is room for all my friends. Yeah, yeah. This just might work out afterall.

Help! Help! We're being attacked! The pillow is eating us! We're being smooshed by a giant, comfy body pillow. Amelia and Buffy have been eaten up entirely. Um ... hello! ... hello? Um ... help! Help? Um ... isn't anyone going to come and save us?

Oh, hi Moose! Hi Platy. How are you?

Platy: I'm brown. I'm round. And I'm upside down.

Moose: Moose!

Ooh, how are we? Um ... I'm okay. Um ... I suppose we are being eaten by a giant pillow and that isn't very furry. It is comfy though. Yeah, yeah. If you needed to choose a way to die, being eaten by a giant foam pillow isn't that bad.

Moose: Moose!

Oooh, you're right, Moose. We shouldn't keep the pillow waiting. We don't want to anger such a large item on the bed.

Um ... goodbye, I suppose. We'll blog again real soon. Um ... maybe after we extract ourselves from this giant pillow. Oooh!

What is next for Buffy?

2006-01-27T20:50:00.000-05:00

So like I feel like I am having some weird out of body experience and like I'm not enjoying it half as much as I thought I would. I mean for starters, I'm Buffy, why am I all uptight and filled with ennui? You like that word? I just picked it up on my last photo shoot. The photographer was circling around taking pictures like they were candies on a secretary's desk and all asking me to look different ways:

You're a beautiful aardvark, make the world sing with joy as you smile! ... excellent! excellent! Now, I want you to make the world cry. Break the world's heart, Buffy. Make them wonder why such a beautiful aardvark is sad. ... excellent! excellent! You are making me cry right now. Yes, yes, you are. See this tear? That is me crying. ... excellent! excellent! Now, Buffy, I want you to make the world feel like an ant. Make everyone feel tiny and worthless and insignificant. ... no, no, no, no, you are looking angry! that is no good. People will think you want to eat them, I want them to feel worthless not like lunch. ... no, no, no, no, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy! You are breaking my heart, but not in a good way. You must looked bored with the world. You are listless and disinterested because the world is not worthy of your attention. You must be filled with ennui. ... yes, yes, yes! ... excellent! excellent! You are making feel insecure about my photography right now. Even, I, a great artist, cannot escape your powerful ennui. ... excellent! excellent! ...

Oh my god, that photoshoot was like the best. I totally found my groove and channeled Garbo. Like I totally knew that I was doing a great job and that all my years of training and primping and spoiling myself were paying off. I'm not afraid to toot my own horn, so I will like come out and say that I rocked. Amelia was with me and totally agreed. Isn't that right, Amelia?

Amelia: Yes, I thought you did a very good job modeling, Buffy.

So like when I walk outside, there were all these pictures of me towering all over the place. And like not just up high, either. My face even greeted normal people just walking along the sidewalk and stuff.

I mean, shouldn't that sign just make me happy? For the Apple of Your I. That's a hot slogan, right? I didn't think of this one, either. Amelia did. They were trying to come up with something kind of sexy for me to sell perfume, but like I need to think about my long term image. This aardvark isn't doing anything sleazy, boys, so don't get your hopes up. So like we were stuck for a concept, but Amelia got this brilliant idea that like "aardvark" has two "a's" and "apple" start with "a" and apples all stand for original sin, but they're all wholesome since they keep doctors away. So like its illiterative and has illusions of literary pretensions.

Amelia: Excuse me, Buffy. The poster is alliterative and makes allusions to literature of prominence.

Oh, like is that what you said? That totally makes more sense. They were all blow drying my hair at that point and I could barely hear anything anyone said. Actually, they were blow drying my hair for most of the afternoon because I have so much of it. Wow, are those people obsessive about hair. Like I usually just roll out of bed and don't think about how I look cuz like I know that I am a natural beauty. But these makeup people are totally obsessed with looks and detail. Oh my god, they would have a cow if even one hair was out of place.

So anyway, the picture works because Amelia is a genius. She even came up with the slogan, "For the Apple of Your I." Like that phrase totally captures the aardvark mystique. It totally subverts your expectations because it looks contradictory, but you know it screams attitude. So I should feel good about the posters, right?

...

Why don't I?

...

I mean I've always wanted to be famous, right? And now I am finally getting my shot. So like my ambivalence makes no sense whatsoever. So I have spent a lot of time this week thinking about what is wrong.

At first I thought it might be seeing my face all over the place. Talk about existential crisis. Oh my god, not only am I not unique, but my image was mass produced and projected all over the place. Everywhere I went, I was like looming over watching me. That totally feels weird. Pudgie said I might have ailing vision, but that couldn't be the case cuz like I could see the signs perfectly. Like who wouldn't? They are so HUGE.

Amelia: Uh, Pudgie said that you might be alienated from your own visage.

Alienated from my own visage? Like what is that supposed to mean?

Amelia: I think Pudgie means that you normally decide where your image appears, and you normally only see it in the mirror. Seeing yourself all over the city in larger-than-life might be a little ... off-putting.

Like why didn't he just say that? Alienated? I'm a naturalized citizen. Or at least I think I am. I don't really have a social security number. All my modeling jobs have been strictly cash under the table affairs, if you know what I mean. And seeing yourself larger than life isn't off-putting, IT ROCKS! Oh my god, who wouldn't flip head over tails when they are on a billboard on Times Square?

Amelia I don't think I'd like it very much.

Okay, I suppose that is totally fair and stuff and that I should validate your experiences. And so, yeah, like, it might not be for everyone, but I definitely like being on posters. At first it was a little weird seeing good looking aardvarks everywhere, but when I got used to it, I saw that the world was a much prettier place for having my posters up. So the posters definitely aren't the source of my ennui.

So then I thought it might be because I have accomplished all my goals and I don't know what else to do with my life. I mean I've wanted to be a star and now like it has almost happened. But then I realized that like I'm totally not a star. I haven't appeared in "The Fashion Police" even once. I've never made the evening news for yelling at a police officer. No magazine has run a picture of me grocery shopping. Like I am SOOOOO FAAAAR from a star that it is not even funny. The only thing that makes me kind of a star is that people drive by my house slowly during the day and look in the windows to catch a glimpse of me.

Amelia: Buffy, um, yeah, Buffy, I think they are looking into the windows for things to steal. I don't think they know you even live here.

Oh my god, you have got to be kidding.

Amelia: No, no I'm not. I think they are casing our joint.

Like that stinks. What type of busted up, lame neighborhood are we living in? I knew that it wasn't a trendy area of town or anything, but I didn't think that I would be associating the criminal element. I'm never going to be famous at this address. Like this only underscores my point that wish fulfillment cannot be driving my ennui.

Amelia: That was a very nice use of psychoanalytic jargon, Buffy. I'm impressed.

Thanks, Amelia. I picked it up from my therapist. I figured all the stars have one and I'm not feeling aardvark fabulous, so why not start going to one? Like it is almost kind of fun. I just show up and we talk about my favorite topic, me! I mean I don't always like talking about how I feel, but it kinda helps me figure things out. Like this week, I totally made a big break through and zeroed in on why I'm kind sad. I knew something was missing from my life, but I just couldn't figure it out. Then it struck me ...

I don't have a crush on Brad Pitt anymore.

Like it was so simple and just staring at me this whole time. I no longer get goose bumps up my spine when I see Brad. I'm pretty sure that it isn't because he dumped Jenn, because I was totally into Brad after he and Jenn separated. And I don't think it is because he is living with Angelina, cuz I think I'd live with her too. Strike that. I KNOW I would live with Angelina. I don't know what it is exactly. Maybe I have outgrown my crush on Brad. Like it was okay when I was younger and just starting out in the celebrity business, but now it just doesn't fit. And that kind of makes me sad, you know? Like when you wake up one morning and discover your favorite pair of jeans don't fit. I mean, I still think he is hot and all. I mean he is SO hot. But I just don't feel all tingly.

So I need someone to replace Brad as my crush, but I just don't see any good candidates out there, right now. Johnny Depp has always been a reliable fall back for crushes, but the timing is all wrong. He looked creepy in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I might need to wait for his next movie to come out. Orlando Bloom grew facial hair and doesn't look anything like Legolas anymore. Legolas was definitely worthy of a crush. Will Turner was just boring in Pirates and Elizabethtown just looked pathetic. Oh my god, Cameron Crowe has totally lost his touch. Say Anything, Singles, Jerry Macguire, those were all classic chick flicks. Almost Famous was a little too self-congratulatory for this aardvark's taste, but it still had some charm. And then like his movies fell off a cliff onto a big pile of elephant dung. Vanilla Sky was bad at the word hello. None of this matters, cuz like the point is that there is no one out there worthy of a crush at the moment.

So like does anyone know of any cute, smart, talented, charsimatic, and really cute actors? Young ones?

Bear or Not Bear: Fish Slippers

2006-01-20T16:08:00.000-05:00

Once again, I turn my attention to the vexing question as to what precisely falls into the category "teddy bear." While I do not subscribe to a Platonic notion of an ideal Form teddy bear, I do --

Goofball: I object! I reckon that I'm pretty close to an ideal form of teddy bear.

Pudgie: I'm discussing Platonic Forms not --

Goofball: I'm soft. I'm furry. I'm adorable. I love cuddling. I can dance. I am an accomplished raconteur. My paws even make an adorable castanet sound when I clap my paws together. AND I've got personality to spare. Sure, I have my drawbacks, who doesn't? Some say that I too comfy and they can't stop cuddling with me. Guilty as charged. Others claim that I am too cute and I distract them from work. Again, I have to plead the Fifth. Aside from these drawbacks, I figure I'm about as good as a teddy bear can get.

Pudgie: Are you finished?

Goofball: I've had my say.

Pudgie: Good. For, as I was trying to explain, I do not believe there is one abstract archetype of teddy bear floating around in the ether to which all teddy bears strive. ... (pause) ... Hmmmm. I'm surprised that you haven't interupted me yet.

Goofball: Why would I? I'm not abstract and I'm not floating around in ether alcohol. I'm as real as real gets, baby. That is the best part about me. You can pick me up and cuddle. I have no problem with what you just said.

Pudgie: I can't decide whether you willfully conflated diethyl ether with ancient notions of the heavens or not. If I were a betting bear, I would guess the former, but this household never ceases to surprise me. To continue my thought, should there be no further interuptions, I do --

Wagsy: Um ... that's a bad assumption to make, Pudgie. People are always interupting my posts.

Pudgie: I see what you mean. Apparently, --

Wagsy: You know, for an empiricist, you seem to ... um ... miss a lot of the patterns around here.

Pudgie: I try to avoid contact with most of you for reasons that are now all too obvious. I also consider myself more of a pragmatist in the vein of William James and Hilary Putnam, rather than an empiricist in the tradition of Descartes, Locke, Berkeley and Hume. I suppose that should make me adept at recognizing consistent patterns of behavior, as you suggest, but I retain some glimmer of hope that the maturation process will eventually take root in this household. The ability to follow a high level argumentative thread for more than three seconds seems to be a lost art.

Wagsy: Um ... --

Pudgie: Before you can interject anything further into my narrative thread, I would like to introduce the objects under consideration today.

Wagsy: Oooh, fish slippers. I hear they are very comfy.

Goofball: I don't know about comfy, but they crack me up.

Pudgie: The question is not the mirth value of fish slippers, but whether or not they constitute bears.

Goofball: No. Slippers are things you wear on your feet. You'd don't wear bears on your feet. Hence, the fish slippers are not bears. QED.

Wagsy: Um ... I dunno, Goofball. They have eyes. I'm not sure I could wear anything with eyes. Um ... especially on my feet. They would be looking up at me and I'd feel bad about wearing them.

Goofball: But people DO wear these fish slippers. I've seen it. You've seen it. Guests put on the fish slippers and begin to giggle about how silly they feel. Articles of clothing are not bears.

Pudgie: What about backpacks?

Goofball: What about backpacks?

Pudgie: Are backpacks bears?

Goofball: No. That is why they are sold in the school supplies aisle and teddy bears are sold in the family member adoption aisle. The canvas ones don't even look anything like teddy bears.

Pudgie: What about backpacks like this one?

Pudgie: This backpack certainly passes the looks test.

Goofball: Wow. She's a backpack?! She's pretty cute.

Pudgie: I assure you that she is a backpack. I assume from your use of a gendered pronoun that you are softening your position that clothing cannot be teddy bears.

Goofball: Depends. Is someone wearing the backpack?

Pudgie: Possibly. For the sake of argument, let's say yes.

Goofball: Is the person wearing the backpack also storing things in her?

Pudgie: Sure.

Goofball: Gross stuff? Like food? Lunch meat? Yuck. I like singing about bologna, but I wouldn't want any bologna in me. I'm a lover, not a refridgerator.

Wagsy: Um ... I agree. I think it is a very cute backpack, but if it is storing food, then it isn't a bear. Um ... it doesn't seem very sanitary.

Pudgie: So the concensus is that food storage devices cannot be teddy bears by definition?

Goofball: You betcha! I'll take this argument a step further and back full circle to the fish slippers. If an object is used for something gross, then it is no longer a teddy bear. People put their smelly, stinky feet in the fish slippers and walk around the dusty floor in them. That is not the life of a bear, those are slippers!

Wagsy: Very forcefully said, Goofball.

Goofball: Why thank you. Not only am I a raconteur, I am a great polemicist.

Pudgie: Allow me to push you on this conclusion, oh Thrasymachus.

Wagsy Um ... his name is Goofball, Pudgie. Not Thra - mishma-ma-gish.

Pudgie: (sigh) Do you agree with the conclusion of our last discussion of teddy bear categorization that any plush toy loved by a person has the potential to be a bear?

Goofball: Yeah. That seems about right to me.

Pudgie: But suppose that a child loves the backpack. She hugs the backpack, has tea with the backpack, tells secrets to the backpack, and generally treats the backpack like a bear.

Goofball: Then the backpack is a teddy bear.

Pudgie: Imagine that the child loves the backpack so much that she takes it with her everywhere. Since the most convenient way to carry a backpack is to wear it, she wears the backpack using the shoulder straps.

Goofball: I don't see any problems so far.

Pudgie: Suppose further that she also uses the same backpack that she loves and hugs to carry school supplies. Perhaps even to carry a messy peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Goofball: Then she's not treating the backpack like a bear any more and it isn't a bear.

Pudgie: But if you are still loved, can you stop being a bear?

Wagsy: Um ... Pudgie makes a good point, Goofball.

Goofball: This is all cloud talk. No one loves their backpack AND uses it like a backpack. And you can't bring peanut butter into schools any more. You're operating in Cloud Cuckoo Land, oh philosopher.

Pudgie: Touchee, Aristophanes. I appreciate the allusion. Still, I must disagree with your point and offer a counter-example to your supposition that such a scenario cannot exist. Harriet's niece owns a backpack very similar to this one:

Pudgie: Harriet's niece loves the backpack, includes the backpack in important teddy bear social events, sleeps with the backpack at times, and still uses it to carry around crayons and other messy objects.

Wagsy: Oooh, it's true. It's true. Um ... I've never envied Olivia's life in that household. She gets a lot of wear and tear.

Pudgie: Since Olivia is loved, comfy and has identifiable facial features, one would conclude that she is a bear. Since she is loved even while being used as a backpack, she remains a teddy bear. Thus, one would conclude that your proposed criteria for bear-dom is deficient.

Goofball: Hold on there, buster. Wait just --

Pudgie: That concludes our discussion of bear essentialism for today.

Goofball: You can't end this post. I'm still talking.

Pudgie: I'm afraid that you are once again mistaken, my enthusiastic friend. Good night. I'm retiring to the study to read and listen to Bach.

Goofball: Wait! Don't end this post! You're cheating! I'm not done arguing yet! You don't use people you love to store peanut butter and jelly sandwichs! Besides, this post is about fish slippers not about backpacks! If you loved them, you wouldn't put your stinky feet in the fish slippers! Please don't end! I have more to say! Keep reading! I'll still --

Bad News for Da Bears

2006-01-16T15:49:00.000-05:00

Hi there. Goofball here in the Bend. It was a good weekend for couch sittin'. Lots of football and ice skating to watch. Extreme Home Makeover offered up a dolphin themed bedroom that made my eyes hurt. Wow, what were they thinking? I've never been to the ocean, but I developed a phobia of dolphins just seeing the room on television. Everything in moderation my friends. One pillow is comfy, 100 pillows is suffocating. I didn't get as much cuddling with my girl as I hoped for, but all-in-all I'd say it was a better than average weekend for me.

What can I say? It was a bad weekend for the Bears. Losing at home in the playoffs to an expansion team? Okay, okay, losing at home in the playoffs to a really good expansion team. I expected the offense to struggle. I've got nothing but love for Tom Jones -- "it's not unusual" for TJ to run for 100 -- though he's not the type of guy who can carry an offense. The passing game was brutal in the first half. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised cuz Grossman doubled the number of passes he attempted THIS SEASON. Read that stat again: 39 passes this season, 41 passes in the game. That is crazy. Since the Bears lost, a lot of people have questioned Lovie's decision to sit out Grossman, but I'm not going to fault the man. Grossman is the Faberge Quarterback: good looking, but expensive and fragile. I'm worried about Grossman every time he takes the grocery bags out of the car. Has another quarterback ever made you say, "Gee, I wish he had the durability of Chris Chandler?" I betcha not.

It was the performance of the defense that made me cringe. Steve Smith gained more yards than the entire Bears passing game. Everyone in the stadium knew that Delhomme would be throwing to Steve Smith every play, but the man still caught 12 for 218 and 2 TDs. Bland name, but the man has game. Double teamed, cover 2, didn't matter. The Bears had no answer and now they will be sitting on the couch watching the next round just like me.

The man I really felt sorry for was Tony Dungy. No one should be asked to coach a football team weeks after his son committed suicide. I know he made the choice to coach and I'm sure that he did a good job, but the game just can't seem that important. Maybe I should make the drive down to Indy this week and give Tony a big hug. He seems like he could use the love of a good bear right now.

Past that, not much to report here. I'm still cute and cuddly. The ladies still love me. I suppose the biggest thing to happen to me is that I made Andrew Lawrence's mailbag on SI.com. I'm glad that he liked my analysis of Eeyore. Actually, Mr. Lawrence implicitly defers to my reasoning in general, which shows that the man has a good head on his shoulders. But I still give the man props for writing the best article on teddy bears and sports ever. ... okay, I'll admit that it is the only article on sports and teddy bears that I have ever found, but I enjoyed reading it and that is more than I can say about most stuff on the web (yeah, yeah, yeah, Peter King likes coffee and Brett Favre -- ever think what PKing might write if Starbucks came out with a Favre flavored latte?). Thanks for the links Andrew, you deserve a bear hug, too.

That's it from the Bend. Still spectating and speculating.

Relatives in Bad Situations

2006-01-13T11:50:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello. Sorry that we haven't posted lately. Classes are starting up, so the bears have been busy napping. You see, we have to save up our energy so that we can look extra cute and cuddly when Ozzie and Harriet come home. Usually Harriet is tired, so if we try really hard, we can pounce and get her to nap. Oooh ... pre-dinner naps are very nice. Maybe not quite as good as the mid-morning nap, but definitely one of the better naps in the day.

Um ... hmmm ... um ... I'm not sure where I was going. Um ... um ... I don't have much to say, but I feel like chatting. Um ... I don't know why I feel like chatting. Maybe it is because Harriet has been busy lately and I am feeling clingy. Or maybe it is because it is cold and rainy and gross outside and that always makes me want to cuddle. The blog isn't quite the same thing as cuddling, but ... um ... actually, it isn't anything like cuddling. I'm just feeling chatty.

Cold and rainy days like today make me very grateful that Harriet is my person. I have a warm home, comfy bed, and even my own chair. I really can't imagine what my life would be like without Harriet.

Um ... I say that, but then I come across this picture.

~~Is This Yours?~~
Originally uploaded by CeeCeeDotCa.

Um ... that sure looks like a Wags Dog in a tree with snow on his head. Um ... it might even be a close cousin. Um ... this picture is disturbing. It's like I am looking into an alternative universe. Oooh, I don't like this universe.

Pictures like these lead a bear to ask a lot of questions. How did he get up in the tree? Why did they leave him up there? Did the photographer get him down? Will he be okay? Is snow good for the fur? Um ... what is the opposite of warm and comfy?

Mostly this picture makes me sad.

Um ... I think I'll go hug my bunny, George.

My Marketing Campaign

2006-01-03T23:34:00.000-05:00

Oh my god, like I probably don't need to tell you this cuz the ads are everywhere, but like my new publicist totally hit the ball out of the park and I'm completely stoked. Like oh my god. So like I just signed a deal to be the signature model for a perfume company. I totally didn't see it coming, but like it totally did come. And it hasn't gone yet, either, so like I know it isn't a dream. Or if it is a dream, then I am still asleep, so like I'll celebrate really quietly. yeah yeah yeah yeah!

Okay, so like I am not the spokesaardvark for a hot brand like Dior or CK or Lancome, but like whatever. I got the gig. The marketers took one look at me and decided to build the entire campaign around me. I don't think the marketers were American and that probably helped. They kept giving me all these dubious compliments like "You have legs like a cow" and "Your eyes are big like dinner plates." I'm like 90% sure that these were intended as compliments, but a less self-assured aardvark would be like all flipped out or something. Like it is totally conceivable that I misunderstood them cuz like their accents were pretty thick. So he might have said my eyes were big like "sinner gates," which I guess would be high to keep the bad people out of Heaven. Or perhaps he said "winner fetes," which would have to be awesome because losers throw lame parties cuz like who wants to celebrate a loss?

Anyways, the point is that I am now a gainfully employed model. They even named the perfume after me, "Essence de Aardvark." Isn't that like the best name for a fragrance you ever heard? And then they came up with all types of great slogans for the ad campaign promoting my perfume. Oh my god. That might have been the best sentence I ever wrote, so like I'll type it again just to seize the moment. "They came up with great slogans for the ad campaign promoting my perfume." Isn't that bliss?

And since noone has ever heard of the company, they decided to spend a lot on high profile advertising. Here is a billboard on Broadway ...

Isn't that totally awesome! Who would have thought that my face would end up on Broadway! And isn't that slogan boss? "Why Feel like an Ant?" It's so true. I came up with that one. Originally, it was going to be, "Why be the ant, when you can be the aardvark," but like that didn't fit on a billboard. So we shortened. I think the average New Yorker will be able to figure it out. I mean they have to have ants in the Big Appler, right?

And here is the coup de grace!

My face is towering over Times Square. And it isn't even the old and sleezy Times Square. I'm like totally ruling over the new, corporate sellout Times Square. I'm like sky high. And the slogan is totally me, but I didn't come up with this one. "All Attitude and No Apologies." Who wouldn't want to smell like attitude? So much better than smelling like apology. I'm not even sure what that means, but I bet there is an unpasteurized European cheese that approximates the smell of apology at room temperature and that is just gross.

This is totally the break I needed. Like the perfume might reak, but I couldn't possibly care less. These guys are keeping me in fancy clothes and getting my face out there. Every billboard for the perfume is also a billboard for me. They are paying me for the honor of advertising me. It's a totally sweet deal.

You know, I was feeling a little sorry about firing my old publicist, but like it was totally the right thing to do. He just wasn't getting me the level of exposure that I needed. But like my new publicist scored major points here, so I made the right decision and I'm not going feel sorry for what I did.

Buffy ... All Attitude and No Apologies

the other slogan would work for a sign off, too

Buffy ... Why Feel like an Ant?

Touching Gift

2006-01-01T23:02:00.000-05:00

For the past twenty years, I have been involved in academics in one form or another. I have advised one tenure case, a series of promotions, and two dissertations. I have traveled to conferences on several continents and am well respected among my peers. My career has been rich and rewarding. And, yet, I have never been so touched before.

Ozzie bought me a desk and chair for Christmas.

In all of my years of service and tireless work in the pursuit of knowledge, I have never had a workspace to call my own. At first I shared Harriet's desk, but then I spent years sharing an office with Harriet's father. The last few years have been spent overseeing the rats nest that Ozzie calls an office, trying to find a few square inches of uncluttered space on which to scratch out my notes. And now, I have a desk to call my own.

I could not think of a better gift than a desk. I certainly have interests outside of economics. I enjoy reading classic works of literature or listening to concertos performed by brilliant musicians. But academics are a part of every fiber in my being in a way that art appreciation is not. A desk is more than a mere platform from to dive into deep intellectual waters, it is an altar at which I can homage to God and the commune with the great thinkers.

In many ways, Ozzie is a disappointment to me. He asks small questions about inconsequential topics. Ozzie might have the potential to make theoretical contributions to our store of knowledge, but one would never know because of his perverse fetishization of measurement and bounded certainty. His training and library are exquisite, but his intellectual curiosity was pruned at some point, and there is little evidence of re-newed growth. Harriet could have certainly done worse for herself, but Ozzie appears deficient with regards to innate talent and work ethic.

However, Ozzie is, at root, a decent fellow. He cares deeply for Harriet and that is the most important part of a marriage. Ozzie is generally thoughtful and considerate of his friends and peers. Ozzie takes the time to think about what people really want and need in life. Thus, he saw that I wanted more than anything my own desk, and he procured this wondrous piece of oak. I never could have articulated my desire, but Ozzie saw.

Thank you, Ozzie, for this wonderful and precious gift. 2006 will be a good year for me, no matter what the fates bring.

On second thought, Ozzie might have just given me the desk to increase my productivity on his behalf. I suspect that it is impossible to disentangle the competing motives for the gift. But for now, I will bask in the glory of my desk and give Ozzie the benefit of the doubt.

Happy New Year!

2006-01-01T07:41:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! I thought we'd offer you a Happy New Year. 2005 was a good year for the bears, I hope that 2006 is just as good. Or better. Yeah, yeah. Better would be good, too.

Um ... we'd like to show you how we spent our New Year's Eve, but Ozzie and Harriet were very sick, so they went to bed early, so our celebration was pretty tame. Goofball did wear a lamp shade on his head, but I think he was just being silly. Maybe when Ozzie and Harriet wake up we can post our photos of New Year's.

In the mean time, here is a picture from a friend of ours in Germany. Bananabear and his friends look awfully cute watching the fireworks.

first pic in 2006
Originally uploaded by bananabear.

Bored Games

2005-12-24T07:17:00.000-05:00

Hi there. Ozzie and Harriet took off for the holidays. I suppose I should say Christmas since that is the holiday in question. But they went to England where holiday also means vacation and they are on vacation. I don't know if Ozzie celebrates Christmas, cuz I don't think he celebrates anything. He's a big ol' grump butt. Of course, Ozzie doesn't take vacations either. He's always working. Well, sometimes he is helping us blog. I'm not sure whether that counts as work for him. He treats it like a chore, so it might. I dunno. Anywho, feel free to use Christmas and holiday interchangeably. You will keep people guessing that way.

So the bears are home alone. Given the chaos that erupted last time we were left alone, we decided to keep things low key this time. So we're just relaxin'. Nothing special. Talkin'. Nappin'. ... Kinda boring when it comes down to it.

Buffy decided to get things going and started agitating for a game. She's kind of our social coordinator. Actually, I don't know if that is strictly true. She doesn't do a whole lot of coordinating. Really, she is more of a dynamo. She just gets everyone moving. Not in the same direction, mind you, but doing something. There was some trouble was picking a game. Everyone wanted Pudgie to play, but Pudgie is a mite opinionated about the games a bear should play. We all have our favorite games, but Pudge cared more than anyone else, so the good Professor more or less dictated the terms. Here were the ground rules:

1) The game had to involve more than two people since there are so many of us;
2) The game had to involve some degree of skill;
3) The game couldn't involve too much action, since we were all feeling a little lethargic;
4) The game should not involve cards, since they are difficult to hold;
5) The game should not involve a lot of small pieces that needed to moved, since they get stuck in the fur.

Somehow, this seemed to lead us to select Trivial Pursuit. I don't know how this came to pass. For starters, Trivial Pursuit has cards. It also has pieces. Moreover, Professor Pudge Bear does NOT like to play Trivial Pursuit. In fact, Trivial Pursuit would seem to be the worst possible game, based on the criteria above. However, Trivial Pursuit was open and right next to the bed. Reminds me of one of my rules of paw, "when in doubt, bet on the status quo."

So Pudgie starts complaining about how Trivial Pursuit is really a game of chance and involves no real skill and is an affront to intellectuals everywhere. At this point, the game was on the bed, so he wasn't going to win this argument. He then says that he won't play if Platy plays. You see, Platy whipped Pudgie pretty good the last time we played Trivial Pursuit and Pudgie is still sore about it. Normally, we would ignore Pudgie's demand and let Platy play because we're an inclusive bunch. But since we couldn't find Platy (he went missing again), we decided to let Pudgie have his way. I don't know why he is feeling so ornary. I think he's upset that he isn't making much progress on his book. Too busy helping Ozzie with papers.

So we pursued trivia. I suppose it was okay. Buffy got most of the entertainment questions right. I nailed pretty much all the leisure questions. Pudgie did okay on the geography, history, and science. But when he missed one, oooh did he start to sputtering and saying it wasn't a real history question and who cares what year the first brassiere was manufactured. And Wagsy? Well, Wagsy enjoyed rolling again and again. He didn't answer many questions correctly, but he probably did more rolling than any of us. All in all, it was okay. Nothing to write home about, which makes me wonder why I am blogging about it now.

After all the pursuiing, I decided that it was time to take a serious nap. No cat naps for me. I was going for an all out, belly stretching, toe wriggling, soft breeze blowing, deep sleep having power nap. Moose and Squawky joined me. I figured why not? My belly is soft and just sitting there, other people might as well enjoy it.

It's been a busy year for the bears. I think we deserve a little time off for relaxing. Here's to hoping that you get the rest you need to tackle 2006.

Giblets Resonds

2005-12-22T12:00:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! This will be a quick post because ... um ... well ... I'd rather nap that post right now. I don't know why, but I am feeling a little sleepy. Maybe it is Winter Solstice. Or maybe it is because the sheets are clean. Whatever the reason, I would rather spend my time dreaming of satelite television than type right now. I know it isn't very nice of me, but ... um ... deal.

Was that right, Buffy? Deal? Blowing people off is kinda new to me? ... It is, right?! Oooh, score one for the Wags dog! I'm in the house! ... What's that, Buffy? ... Oh, I see. ... No, that's okay. I probably was pushing it a bit far. I'll try to be careful with my slang.

Um ... where was I? Oh, yeah, yea, I was going to quickly post. You might remember Duck's angry post about Giblet calling ducks a failure. Oooh, he was verrry angry. I don't think I had ever seen Duck so angry. So I sent Giblets this email ...

On 12/4/05, Wagsy Dog wrote:

Um ... hello! How are you, Mr. Giblets? Um ... I don't know how to say this nicely, but ... um ... one of your recent posts ruffled some feathers in our household. You see a duck and a moose are good friends of mine. Yeah. And they ... um ... were kind of upset that you described their species about as "failures." Duck took it very hard since you were one of his favorite bloggers. Duck has aspirations for world domination, too, you see? Um ... it's kind of like being told by Michael Jordan that you'll never amount to more than a door stop. Oooh, that wouldn't be very pleasant.

Duck expressed his outrage in a post, but he's still fuming. Yeah, yeah. Normally posting is cathartic for him, but I think he really wants an apology. Um ... looking over your posts, I don't think you're too likely to apologize, because ... um ... well ... um ... you seem a little belligerent. But I thought I'd write and let you know how upset we are with you, Mr. Giblets. I'm sure there are other ducks that are mad at you, but --

What's that moose? ... Yes, yes, Moose is mad at you, too. Um ... we're all a little mad at you right now, but I suspect that it will go away quickly. That's the problem with having stuffin' for brains. It's hard to hold grudges.

Sincerely,

Wagsy (on behalf of Duck ... and Moose)

I figured writing a nice letter was the professional way to deal with the matter. I didn't really expect a reply, because ... well Fafblog is kinda busy and ... um ... Giblets doesn't seem like the type of person who cares much about the feelings of others. But he did. Giblets did respond. He didn't exactly apologize, but he at least cared enough to send a response ...

On 12/20/05 Giblets replied:

Oh yes so you know ducks and meeses do you? Well, some of Giblets's best friends are ducks and mooses, like the wise Judge Duck or the Nobel-prize winning Doctor Gustavus Moose. Failures all! Giblets's standard for success is as follows:

-Giblets: success
-Not-Giblets: failure!

All around him Giblets is surrounded by failures. Giblets does not hold it against them, which is one of the great keys to Giblets's success (he is quite a magnanimous Giblets).

P.S. Giblets apologizes for the lateness of this reply, Giblets has been sick. Sick with success!

Um ... as I said, he doesn't care much about other people's feelings. But at least he explained that it isn't personal. I suppose Giblets did call everyone a failure. Well, except penicillin. I guess penicillin should be flattered to be consider a "a moderate disappointment." Um ... maybe I shouldn't write to such mean people. He might call me names.

I'm not sure if I should show this letter to Duck. It might just rile him up again.

Goodbye to Pi

2005-12-19T22:45:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello. Or should I say goodbye? Oooh, it was so sad. Today we mailed off Pi. We were all very sad. Pi had become a part of the family. Um ... to be perfectly honest, I think that means he stuck around too long. Harriet has a way of adopting bears who hang around for a while and Pi was awfully cute. Ozzie had to be very firm that Pi has a young and slobber-y child waiting for him. Training new bears is really important, but we have to do it faster. Um ... actually, come to think of it, there wasn't a whole lot of training that happened since June. I think Pi stuck around because Ozzie was too lazy to mail him quickly. He really shouldn't have put Harriet through the pain. Or the rest of us. It was really, really sad.

Pi was a little disappointed in his travel accomodations. Squawky had raised his expectations a little too high. We had to explain that most bears arrive in boxes. It was a very nice box, though. Very clean and sturdy and not too squishy. Ozzie ensured us that he put tracking on the box so we can make sure Pi gets to Washington safely.

Um ... I think Pi was excited and a little scared to go. Meeting your person is such a big moment in a bear's life. Um ... it might even be THE moment. Ooh, I hope the little boy realizes how special Pi is.

Oddly enough, I think Pudgie might have been the saddest to see Pi go. Pudgie is a little grumpy and ... um ... demands a lot from his companions, but he seemed to really bond with Pi. It was really sweet. Pudgie can be very nice and helpful and he is very protective of Harriet, but Pi brought out the tender side of Pudgie. It was really sweet.

Good luck, Pi. I'm sure your person will love you ... um ... almost as much as we do. We'll miss you.

Oooh, I told you it was sad!

Bear Essentialism

2005-12-18T20:37:00.000-05:00

Language often poses hurdles to understanding. Quine was correct when he noted that linguistic and mental meaning are partly constructed by practices of interpreting and translating. To paraphrase the trite question from epistemology 102, how do we know that two people understand the same concept when they hear the word "teddy bear?"

Long time readers of this blog might have noticed a certain terminological infelicity with regards to the term "teddy bear." Harriet's usage has always been broad and catholic encompassing bears as well as ardvarks, armadillos, dogs, ducks, eagles, lobsters, moose, owls, pigs, possums, rabbits, turtles, and zebras. It is fair to say that Harriet applies the term "teddy bear" (or even "bear") to any and all furry or fuzzy animals. In contrast, some utilize "teddy bear" solely in reference to animals strictly ursine in nature. The broader spectrum of the kingdom falls under the category "stuffed animal" or "plush toys." Such differences are of no consequence and I mention them merely to dispose of a potential hurdle to the focus of our inquiry.

What constitutes a teddy bear? At root, what are the essential elements of teddy bear-dom? Can we differentiate between bear and non-bear with any degree of reliability? I have been pondering this question since two new creatures have entered our household.

On the left is a yeast. On the right, a German philosopher. More specifically, Saccharomyces and Friedrich Nietzsche have been adopted by our circle of bears. Both new additions have their charms to be sure, but are they "teddy bears" in the proper sense of the word?

Let us begin with the most obvious trait of teddy bears: teddy bears exhibit no biological processes. This statement is unequivocably true. Metabolizing creatures are not teddy bears, stuffed animals, or plush toys. Unfortunately, this criteria does little to differentiate teddy bears from all the toys that may be purchased from stores.

One criteria one might use for categorization is the presence of a furry or fuzzy exterior. Both Saccharomyces and Nietzsche fall into the bear category on this dimension. But surely such a category can be no more than a necessary condition and not sufficient. For if furriness were a sufficient condition, then blankets and coats would be teddy bears and this would stretch the word to be void of all meaning. In point of fact, I am sceptical of furriness as a even a necessary condition, for the owls are not furry and they are bears beloved by Harriet.

The reason blankets fall short of being teddy bears is not because they fail to be comforting, but because blankets possess no differentiated limbs or facial features. Under this rubric, the yeast falls short of teddy bear, while the philosopher garners a clear pass. However, dolls are not teddy bears and they have well defined limbs and facial features. Thus, differentiation cannot be a sufficient condition. Moreover, many older bears have facial features that have been worn away over time or perhaps even missing limbs. Thus, there may be exceptions to the generalization that differentiated parts are part and parcel of being a teddy bear.

Perhaps one can gain mileage from shifting the focus from "teddy bear" to "stuffed animal." Yeast belong to the kingdom Fungi rather than Animalia. In contrast, the German Philosopher is human and therefore a member of the animal kingdom. On the other hand, humans are fully rational creatures and not generally considered animals per se. Mammals, yes, but animal seems to fit only the most uncultured, immoral, and rude members of society. If being commonly considered a member of the animal kingdom is a prerequisite for being a teddy bear, both Saccharomyces and Friedrich Nietzsche present dubious cases.

Perhaps the telos of the object in question will offer guidance. Teddy bears are made to be hugged and loved. There is not another purpose for which they might be manufactured. Along this dimension, both the yeast and the philosopher satisfy the condition. I cannot think of an alternative use to which either of these creatures could be put towards with any degree of efficiency (though I strongly suspect that the poor yeast will be used as a stand-in for a shuttlecock at some point in time). Although I strongly suspect that both the yeast and the philosopher were intended to serve as curiosities or conversation pieces. As such, they would not be consider "teddy bears."

On the other hand, it may be possible for plush toys to overcome their telos and transform into a teddy bear. An example can be found in our family since one member was designed to serve as the covering for a golf club. It is an extremely sensitive topic, so I do not bring up the matter lightly. Lobby is a treasured member of our community and we would all consider him a teddy bear in good faith and standing. Harriet adores him and vice-versa.

And perhaps this insight leads to the key concept for defining "teddy bear." A teddy bear may be defined by the "plush toy's" relationship with a person. Once the toy is loved and has developed a personality, it has become a teddy bear. Prior to the bond, the toy is merely that ... a toy. The transformative nature of this bond was explored thoroughly in The Velveteen Rabbit. While I have problems with the end moral of The Velveteen Rabbit (see my comment at the end of my post on Heaven and Teddy Bears), I readily acknowledge that it captures an essential aspect of the human/bear relationship. Indeed, personality is the distinguishing characteristic between bears and toys.

Thus, it remains to be seen whether Saccharomyces and Friedrich Nietzsche rise to the level of bear-dom.

My Publicist So Dropped the Ball

2005-12-12T21:13:00.000-05:00

Okay, so like I am a really forgiving person. You know, some times I want to get all mad and stuff and flip my lid, but most of the time I just take a break, grab a little O2 and come back all relaxed and ready to move on. But like right now, I'm still a little worked up and that is after I spent a whole day sun bathing with Amelia to unwind.

It's my publicist, ya know? I just don't think he is advancing my career the way he needs to right now. This weekend there was an article on CafePress in the NYT and all the weirdos who maintain virtual storefronts, but like there was no mention of my store. Come on, a fame seeking aardvark who is totally hot is *at least* as important as a bacon ribbon or some lame reference to Napoleaon Dynamite. A publicist with half an ounce of gumption would have totally landed me a sentence in the article, or at least a clause, or even crammed me between two commas. Like I don't care. I just feel totally dissed being excluded. Like I find the NYT boring (I mean come on, it calls itself the "Gray Lady"), but lots of people with kids read it. Surely someone would have said, "You know, I would look totally awesome in a baby doll t-shirt that said 'Aardvark Fabulous'." And you know what, that person would be 100% right.

And did you know that I released a movie this weekend? I bet not. You know why? Because no one in the entire country knew my movie was released. There was no buzz, much less pop, hum, or even a murmur. Hello! You need to reach the public as a publicist! I'm so totally miffed that not even chocolate covered ants can cheer me up. We even had hot posters made up for the movie:

Oh my god, doesn't that totally drag you in? The font says horror movie, but the teddy bears say huggable. "Solving laundry emergencies" sounds like it could be an adventure flick or maybe even an old-fashioned who-dun-it, but the boys in the basket scream road trip. I have to admit that I think the movie wasn't destined to be a blockbuster. I mean, teddy bears just aren't very action oriented and a movie where fabric softener is a plot lynchpin is about as gripping as handshakes at a carpel tunnel support group. But I figured people would least show up the first weekend, right? 'til they heard from their friends that the movie was a yawner? Wrong-o! Ben Affleck's last ten dozen lame movies have all flopped, but at least a handful of people showed up on opening weekend. What happened to mine?

Okay, so it was a bad weekend. I mean opening opposite The Chronicles of Narnia and the week before King Kong was like a really dumb idea. Like I mean a REALLY dumb idea. Guess whose idea it was. Like YEAH! Yet another example of my publicist dropping the ball ... like right on my head this time. I'm so embarassed. I mean, NO ONE showed up at my movie. Literally, not one ticket was sold. Okay, so maybe some bored slackers snuck in or something, but that doesn't count.

And have you read my autobiography? Say what? Like why not? Oh, I DON'T HAVE AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY! Like what's up with that? Even Nicole Richie has an autobiography. Would America rather read the totally inspiring story of a cute young aardvark's quest for fame and fortune, or would they rather listen to the bogus whining of a rich parasite complaining about being rich and famous and spats with her completely talentless best friend. Okay, even I would rather read the second book, but this is America -- in the internet age -- where every wannabe starlet gets a vanity press autobiography. This aardvark demands on demand publishing at the very minimum!

Bottom-line, I'm thinking of getting a new publicist. I feel kind of bad about it, but I think it might be necessary. Oh my god, I wouldn't be here without my publicist. He took all those early photos and came up with the idea of publicly pursuing Brad Pitt (I had only be privately pining for him) and even got me onto the cover of US Quarterly. That was all so cool and so sweet. But he might have taken me about as far as he can. Like I hate to say this, but I think I might have out grown my publicist.

Now I just need to figure out my next step.

Amelia, grab my thinking loofah! I'm gonna take a hot shower.

Hundred Aker Wood and Basketball

2005-12-08T22:10:00.000-05:00

Hi there. Ever notice how some people have a good idea, but never quite follow it all the way through or know how to pull it off? I usually see this happen in comedies. The writer and the director create these highly entertaining characters that are doomed to fail in hilarious fashion or such irredeemable jerks that you just KNOW they will be unhappy by the end of the movie. In fact, the whole point of the character and setting is that they won't get the girl and live happily ever after. And yet, every time, the producers sell out and we get some sappy and totally unbelievable happy ending with a wedding. We sat through an hour of a good dark comedy to watch the creators betray their vision and patch together some "Hollywood ending." That type of half-heartedness just drives me up the wall. When I do something, I make sure to do it right. Ain't no half steppin' with me. When I'm cuddling, I cuddle. And when I'm watching TV, well, I'm cuddling, too. What can I say, I like cuddling?

Anywho, Ozzie sent me an article on the NBA where the author took the time to imagine a draft of the characters in Winnie the Pooh. Right off the bat, I'm on board. I can't think of better comedy fodder than bringing together two disparate and totally unrelated sets of things (editor: Kinda like teddy bears and blogging?) Quiet, you. I don't need any of your cheap one-liners in this post. (Editor: Okay, suit yourself.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, unlike things and entertainment. When I think of the menagerie imagined by A.A. Milne, I do NOT think basketball. I might think food or flood insurance or maybe even exploration, but basketball wouldn't even make the top 100 concepts. Basketball is to the Hundred Aker Wood as ... huh ... this is a tough one. Logging is to New York City? I dunno. I think it needs to be a sport. The Lumberjack Olympics is to New York City? I dunno, cuz I don't see Pooh or Piglet chopping down any trees and if they did, well, then there wouldn't be a Hundred Aker Wood, now would there? What sport do those guys play? Pooh sticks? I betcha kids play Pooh Sticks in the Bronx. Kinda universal. That is the whole point of the story, isn't it? Heffalump hunting? Hmmm. The point is, basketball and Christopher Robin's beloved plush family are not a natural fit.

And I think a mock draft of these characters is a great way to think about it. But the author just didn't think it out enough. Maybe it because he isn't a teddy bear. Here's how Andrew Lawrence ranked the crew:

Rank	Character	Goofball's Analysis
#7	Piglet	Yeah, Piglet would probably be the worst basketball player. No heart. Smaller than the ball. Annoying, so teammates would dump him in the laundry basket. Maybe I'm selling him short, but Piglet doesn't seem to have the drive and courage of Mugsy -- only his stature. And Scott Skiles was pretty pink, but he was a gritty player. Let's face it, you can't be both short and soft in the NBA.
#6	Eeyore	Excuse me? Eeyore would be awesome. First off, he's the only four legged animal and stubborn as all get out, so he would be immovable down on the blocks. And he's also the only character with the demonstrated ability to put the ball in the hole. Remember the birthday story with putting the rag in the useful pot? And Eeyore has a mean streak. Guy goes out of his way to embarass people. For cryin' out loud, he eats thistles!! How many championships do you think Charles Barkley would have won if he ate thistles instead of Big Macs? I see Eeyore being like Arvydas Sabonis.
#5	Owl	Dude argues that Owl has a high basketball IQ. Did he miss the fact that Owl is always wrong? Owl thinks he is right and the rest of the characters believe him, but there is no substance there. Owl might be a fan favorite and have a unique fashion sense (tell me you couldn't see animal tails serving as doorbells on MTV Cribs), but he'll lead the team astray. Owl's got wings, so he probably has rise. I could see Owl being like Dominque -- all flash, but no substance.
#4	Rabbit	Now here's a tough one. Rabbit is super organized and takes charge. And Rabbits can run like the dickens. But Rabbit is also kind of a jerk. Remember when he really got up in Tigger's grill and made him feel lower than low? Rabbit had a point, but that isn't the way to inspire the troops. In a lot of ways, Rabbit is like Larry Brown, but Larry isn't really known as a player. Maybe someone like Scottie Pippen, great player and acts like a leader, but you always guess that his teammates would like to see him traded.
#3	Roo	Classic example of someone drafting based on potential more than accomplishment. Sure, the kid will be able to jump, but he's smaller than Piglet now. The best thing you can say about Roo is that he has an infectious enthusiasm that makes teammates want to play harder. But I don't see why you'd pick Roo when Kanga is still on the board. I mean she's older, fully developed, and already won honors. Why take a chance on Roo when you can get the seasoned pro ready to contribute immediately? You have no idea whether Roo will turn into Kobe Bryant or Korleone Young. The kid seems nice and hard working, though. Okay, so I'd draft him high, but I'd take Kanga first.
#2	Pooh	Now here is where the train goes off the tracks. Excuse me? We're talking about a bear that fell into his own trap and got his head stuck in a pot of honey. Sure he's nice and talented and has a soft touch, but you just know he's going to eat himself out of the league ala Oliver Miller or Stanley Roberts.
#1	Tigger	Dead on right here. His feet are made of rubber, his tail is made of springs, and there is only one of him. Yeah, his leaping ability sometimes gets him in trouble. You'd like Tigger to know what he was going to do with the ball before leaving his feet, but he jumps so high it almost doesn't matter. And with that bouncy, accesible personality, you just know that marketers will love him and the turnstiles will keep clicking. I think Darryl Dawkins might be Tigger's closest parallel. A little rim rattling, honey pot shattering, Rabbit hole stuffin' slam dunkin' from Chocolate Thunder comin' atchya, baby!

Sorry, I got a little carried away there. Let's face it, there ain't a lot of talent in the Hundred Aker Wood, which makes the exclusion of Kanga all the more inexplicable. I'm sure Christopher Robin would be better than the animals -- having thumbs opposable or otherwise has to help. But Chris is human and there is no fun in that. Contrariwise, the kid is British, so you just know he is going to be bad at basketball. When your nation's best players are Michael Olowokandi and John Amaechi, you better turn your attention to other sports like soccer. Or invent games like cricket and hope your colonies don't beat you too badly. Maybe Luol Deng will develop into a nice player, but doesn't Sudan need a hero more than Great Britain? And what sort of insecure country names itself "Great?" It's like putting the world "People" or "Democratic" in your name. If you need to advertise it so badly, then precisely the opposite is probably true. Maybe I shouldn't say anything more, seeing as Harriet is sorta from England (which is a perfectly fine name, but GREAT Britain?!).

But if I were drafting, I'd rank the players as follows:
1) Tigger
2) Kanga
3) Eeyore
4) Roo
5) Rabbit
6) Owl
7) Pooh
8) Piglet

Not much of a talent pool, huh? Maybe Four Square would be a better game for the good folks at Pooh Corner. Or marbles. I could see them playing marbles.

Dang it! This post didn't quite work. (Editor: Perhaps it would have benefited from my observations.) I don't want to hear anything from you.

Well, that's all from the Gooball. Still spectating and speculating in The Bend.

Moral Indignation

2005-12-04T15:53:00.000-05:00

QUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACK
QUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACK
QUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACK
QUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACK!

[Editor: Slow down, Duck. No one can understand you if you don't take a minute to breathe.]

Quackquackquackquack.

[Editor: Duck? Duck, take a deep breath. ... Count to ten ... Now what were you saying?]

Quack quack quack quACK quACK! Quack QUAck quackquack.

[Editor: I agree. You can't judge a species by the actions of a couple individuals. Which article has you so worked up?]

Quack quack quack quack. Quack quack QUACK quack QUACK.

[Editor: I see what you mean. Being called a failure by one of your favorite websites would make me upset too. It doesn't surprise me that you have an affinity for Giblets.]

Quack quackquack QuAck QUAck, quack quack QUAck quack quack quack.

[Editor: I think you're correct that Giblets didn't bother to interview any ducks. And, yes, for a website known for its hardhitting interviews, it IS disappointing.]

Moose: Moose!

Quack, quack quack quack.

[Editor: Yes, I would also be surprised if Giblets interviewed any moose either. I wouldn't take it too personally guys. Moose and ducks were also lumped with Copenhagen and penicillin. Both of those things are pretty cool.]

Quack quack quack QUAck quACK QUACK! quackquackquack.

Moose: Moose!

[Editor: Not a bad idea, Duck. Not a bad idea.]

So Harshly Denied

2005-12-03T17:47:00.000-05:00

So like this website with a kinda offensive name has everyday people review movies. I totally missed the inappropriate name. The website I went to was efilmcritic.com, which is like a perfectly fine name and I wasn't doing anything wrong. I saw that it was affiliated with HBS, but the meaning was over my head. Or maybe it was beneath me. Whatever. The point is that I didn't know there was anything misogynistic. I mean, like I thought "HBS" stood for "Harvard Business School" which isn't my cup of mocha latte, but it completely the level of high end brand name that I want to associate myself with. Hello! All it said was part of the "HBS network".

Whatever. Like the point is that they are conducting this awesome contest for new reviewers. And I was like all over it cuz I review movies and they get thousands and thousands of eyez every day, so like it would really raise my on-line profile. And like submitting an entry would be like a slurping ants in a sweets shop since I am totally experienced and have an awesome portfolio of movie reviews. So I needed to provide one positive and one negative review. I decided to go for my review of Ocean's Eleven because like I understand that movie better than anyone else on the planet. I mean a lot of people just don't evaluate it on the right criteria (a reminder to the girlz out there without a pulse ... George and Brad and Andy look *sizzling* hot). And then I thought my review of Ocean's Twelve might work for the negative review since the movie blew chunks. Oh my god was it bad. And like reviewing both movies would give the reader a sense of completeness. And it would let the critic judge dude know that I don't like a movie just because it has Brad or George in it. I mean, I have really high standards and I wanted to show that off. So I liked I pressed "Submit" and waited for the good news.

Like here is what they sent back:

Hi from HBS Entertainment,

Recently you submitted an application to become a reviewer at eFilmCritic/HollywoodBitchslap. We regret to inform you that your application has been rejected. Our system is geared toward only letting in the finest applicants, based on the opinions of our submissions panel. To help you improve any future submission, however, we have included their comments below.

We don't really go for reviewers who write "in character." We like honest, real voices.

Like, not a chance.

Please note that if you do choose to reapply, you must use the form on
the webpage again, as we cannot accept any submissions via email.

Thanks for your interest in our site!

HBS Submission Team
submissions@hollywoodbitchslap.com

That is so harsh. I guess I'm glad that they read the reviews and everything, but I can't tell if they're using "like" to mock me or compliment me. But what really yanks my tail is that they are questioning my sincerity. What do they mean by "in character?" As if. Like I'm totally on the level. I'm the same aardvark I've always been. My semi-C-list-celebrity status has absolutely not gotten to my head. Like I'm totally keeping it real. To like reject my application that is fine, but to question my character is just flat out rude.

Whatever. I'll move on. I didn't think I'd land the gig in the first place, but I didn't think I would be so harshly dissed. Their loss.

Blog Anniversary

2005-11-28T21:39:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! Today is a special day on the blog. Yeah, yeah. Today is the day that the blog is one year old.

Happy birthday to the blog.
Happy birthday to the blog.
Happy birthday dear bl-og.
Happy birthday to the blog.

Exactly 365 days ago, I started things off with ...

Um ... hello. Ozzie is helping me to write a blog. He was inspired by a truly excellent book, Click, Clack, Moo. I think means that he loves me. Ozzie denies it. Pudge bear says it is merely a period of detente. I don't care, a bear has to take love where he can find it nowadays.

So now I can share my thoughts with the world. The only problem is that ... um ... I can't think of anything to say at the moment. That's kinda the problem with having stuffin' for brains. I'll think of something soon.

Stay Tuned.

Wow. Wow. Um ... who knew that we'd think of so many things to say over the year? I guess I didn't say everything. I had a lot of help from my friends. Together we made over 100 posts, which is about two posts a week (Pudgie helped me with the math). Um ... since we hang out in the bed all day, you'd think we'd have more time to post, but our schedule keeps us kinda busy and we're not very fast typists. Really, we struggle to post as often as we do. It's not that we don't like posting. We do, we really do. We're just kinda slow about it.

But ... um ... I had no idea this blog would grow the way it has. To be perfectly honest, we didn't really know what to say at the start. We even linked to a picture of a dog named Wagsy. Um ... I don't usually like to say anything mean, but since I wrote the post I guess it's okay, but that was probably our worst post ever. But we figured it out pretty quickly after that. December 2004 was a good month for posts. We talked about children, snow, Notre Dame football, and free will. Oooh, and then came January. Yeah, yeah, I thought January was an excellent month of posts. But I wouldn't want anyone to think February wasn't a good month. Or March. Or any month. Um ... let's face it, I'm really bad at picking favorites. I really went out on a limb picking a least favorite (but it was a really boring post).

Um ... we've added a lot of stuff to the site as well. We have pictures, so you can see how cute we are. We have a store, so you can wear clothing with our faces on them. Actually, Buffy just designed a new shirt with Goofball on it. I think it looks very cute, but I always think Goofball looks cute. We have an email address, so people can send us mail. Um .... Ozzie has also organized all the posts by author and subject, so you can read your favorite type of posts. We even have a picture puzzle sorta thing on the side that rotates pictures. Oooh, I really like that feature. I can sit and watch it for hours. Everyone just looks so cute.

Um ... most of all, we've had fun and made new friends like Teddy and Spaulding. We're glad that you are reading and hope you enjoy reading half as much as we like writing.

Reporting Fluff Piece

2005-11-25T10:31:00.000-05:00

So like you never know when opportunity will knock. It could like be tomorrow or it could be years and years from now. Harrison Ford was working as like a carpenter and stuff before George Lucas saw him and said, "Like, you'd look totally hot as a cowboy named Bob Falfa." Dumb name, but Harrison Ford became a mega-watt star. And you never know how opportunity will knock. I mean, you'd think it would be a simple "knock-knock", but I bet it could come in the form of a doorbell, phone call, text message, or even some random guying walking up to you on a street and saying, "Oh my god, I totally need to you to star in my low budget local TV commercial." Like my point is, you just never know, so an aardvark had better be prepared.

I've decided to be as well rounded as possible. I mean it can only help my chances of becoming a real celebrity. You know, one of those celebrities where people whisper at lunch, "Oh my god, Dustin Hoffman is sitting right over there!" and not a pseudo-celebrity where people wonder, "Wait a minute, I think that guy played a cop or something on TV once." And once you've made it, having other skills can only help you maintain your status as a celebrity. I mean Cher stunk as an actress and everyone rolled her eyes when she started making movies, but then she like won an Oscar and everyone said, "Wow, Mermaids was awesome. Like I hope she sticks with acting and doesn't put out any more lame albums like I Paralyze." But then she came up with that amazingly uplifting dance hit Believe and everyone held their noses at Tea with Mossilini. If it weren't for acting AND singing, Cher would be some random factoid in an early addition of Trivial Pursuit.

So like I have to try a bit of everything. I've tried by hand at photography and modeling and fashion guru and movie reviewing and book reviewing and TV reviews and clothing designer and even being a hanger on. I've been a busy aardvark this past year. I take professional development way seriously. Oprah may have more going on, but she's had more years to practice. I'm completely prepped to manage my aardvark media empire.

But ya know, there are still areas where I'm just not prepared. I haven't appeared in any artsy indie-flick. My generic over-produced demo hasn't been recorded. And like, I'm not sure they ever will. The Bend is a little quiet, you know what I'm saying. I mean, I love our pad here and my family is here, so like I'm happy, but it would be hard to launch an acting or music career here. But one thing I think I could do to build a portfolio is news reporting. Oh my god, I've watched the local TV here and it is really not that hard. I'd have to bite my tongue when the make up lady gave me really horrendous bangs, but I could totally stand in front of Notre Dame stadium and smile into the camera while looking cold. And I could totally use the local experience to vault into national attention. Like Insult the Dog Comic started out doing little kids parties before Conan O'Brien discovered him. And I've got WAAAY more talent than Insult. For starters, he's just a sock puppet and not a very attractive one at that. I'm a gorgeous aardvark, who do you think late night TV veiwers would prefer to watch? And like he has just one schtick. I mean you know he will be rude to the person he is interviewing and then say he'll poop on some random object. Is this entertaining? I think not. I could totally mix it up and keep the audience guessing what will come next. One day I'll be a younger Joan Rivers and the next day I'll come at the guest like Mike Wallace. But like I have to start somewhere and get some practice so one of the local stations will see that I'm hot stuff and offer me a gig.

So like I decided to do one of those holiday fluff pieces ...

Buffy: So like I'm standing here on the edge of the bed on Thanksgiving. The house is really quiet cuz Harriet and Ozzie are off in the boondocks eating turkey and stuff, so the bears are all alone. So this is like the perfect chance to find out how the bears really feel about pressing issues. Excuse me, sir?

Wagsy: Um ... oh, hi Buffy! How are you?

Buffy: Oh my god, like this is the problem with being a local celebrity. Everyone already knows me so like I can't catch them off guard. I'd like to interview you for local television, sir. You will like totally end up on the 6 o'clock news.

Wagsy: Um ... okay, I suppose. Um ... is Amelia holding a video camera? Hi, Amelia!

Buffy: Yeah. Like what did you think I would record you with, this pencil? As if. Okay, so like here is the question ... "What are you thankful for this year?"

Wagsy: Um ... that is a really good question, Buffy.

Buffy: Thanks. Did you notice how I like paused for dramatic effect. I think it makes me look totally serious.

Wagsy: Yeah, yeah. I did notice that. You did a very nice job. Um ... I'm thankful for my bunny George. Not a lot of bears have their very own bunny and I'm glad that I do.

Buffy: Thank you, sir, it is refreshing to hear someone endorse sweatshop labor in a public forum -- especially on a holiday like Thanksgiving. Next --

Wagsy: Um ... that is not what I said at all. I just love my bunny. There is nothing wrong with saying that.

Buffy: We'll let the court of public opinion be the judge of that, sir. Let's try to get a broader range of opinion. You there, sir. Hello? Like I'm trying to talk to you.

Goofball: Yeah, whatchya want, Buffy.

Buffy: I'd like you to answer a totally important current events question.

Goofball: No sweat, Buffy. Hey, is Amelia carrying a video camera? Where did she get the fly technology?

Buffy: Like what is up with you people? Haven't you ever seen an armadillo with a camera strapped to her back?

Goofball: Now that you mention it, no I haven't seen an armadillo with a camera strapped to her back before. Any more questions? That one was easy.

Buffy: Okay, like what are you thankful for this year.

Goofball: You know, it's been a good yearr for me and I have a lot to be thankful for. I got a lot of cuddling. I met some nice new bears. I saw a picture of a penguin wearing a hat and mowing a lawn. But when it comes down to it, I'm grateful that I have a roof over my head and lots of good friends to hang with -- like you Buffy.

Buffy: Oh my god, that was like the most insightful interview I've ever done. I totally rock. Did you get that on tape, Amelia?

Amelia: Yes.

Buffy: Do I look good in this light? How is my hair? Does my tail look too big?

Amelia: You look very nice, Buffy.

Buffy: Thanks, Amelia. I really appreciate you helping me out with this. Howya holding up? You good to do one or two more interviews?

Amelia: I think so, but they better be short. This camera is heavy.

Buffy: You're a down chick, Amelia. I owe you one. Actually I owe you a lot more than one. You're always there for me. Like, I have no idea where I'd be without you. I'd prob--

Amelia: Buffy, we're still rolling tape and I'm getting tired.

Buffy: My bad. I'll get back on it. Excuse me, sir? Would you mind like sharing your opinion with the world?

Duck: Quack quack.

Buffy: Groovy. So like, Mr. Duck, what are you most thankful for this year?

Duck: Quack quaCK Quack quack quack. QuACK quack quack. Quack QUACK quack quack QUAck QUACK. QUACK quack quack QUack quack quACK. Quack quack quack.

Buffy: I think Mr. Duck just summed up everyone's feelings about the season. At least I think he did. I mean like he's a duck and stuff so like he's hard to understand. Whatever. This is Buffy on the corner of the bed wishing you an Aardvark Fabulous Thanksgiving.

Okay, so like that didn't quite go as planned and was a little rough around the edges. There is a reason why I'm practicing people. Like, do you think Barbara Walters started out being Barbara Walters? I don't think so. Interviewing people is a little harder than I thought it would be, but like I totally have faith in myself. If I keep working at it, I'll be Dan Rather only young and good looking.

Happy Thanksgiving

2005-11-24T10:04:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! Happy Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is a verrry good time of year for the bears, so it might be our favorite holiday. For starters, it is cold outside and that means more cuddling with the bears. With our fur and polyester fibers, we don't really get cold, so we can just enjoy the extra cuddle time. It gets dark sooner, too, and that means cuddling starts earlier in the night. Well, that is the upside to darkness. The downside is that the darkness makes Harriet depressed and that makes us a little sad. But since the darkness only just began, she's fine and we get more cuddling. February might be a different story. Um ... by February the bears will trade in our cuddling with an unhappy person for less cuddling with a happier person.

Um ... so those are two things to be thankful for. Thanksgiving also has football, which means? ... you guessed it, cuddling! Yeah, yeah. People don't seem to realize it, but watching football is the perfect time to cuddle with your teddy bear. We have received several emails from people who think that it is a little unusual to cuddle with your teddy bear while watching football. But we couldn't disagree more. Harriet likes football and she likes cuddling with teddy bears. That seems pretty normal. And when you watch a player get injured, don't you want to hold your teddy bear close and feel safe and warm while you hope the player is okay? Um ... the only reason you wouldn't want to watch football with your teddy bear is buffalo wings. Ooooh, those wings are messy. You wouldn't want your teddy bear anywhere near buffalo wings. Be sure to wash your hands very carefully before picking up your teddy bears if you have been anywhere near buffalo wings. Um ... maybe you should sanitize your whole body before getting near your teddy bear. Buffalo wings are scary.

And ... um ... people eat turkey on Thanksgiving. We feel a little guilty about liking this part of Thanksgiving, but we're very honest here at Furry Thoughts for Fuzzy Times. We feel very sorry for the turkey. We really do. But at Thanksgiving people eat too much, which makes them sleepy. And they eat too much early in the afternoon, which opens a prime late afternoon napping window. And turkeys have tryptophane, which makes even the most grumpy of grump-butts want to nap. Um ... I don't think there is anything we could do to rescue the turkey, so we might as well enjoy the cuddling.

So ... um ... yeah, Thanksgiving might have the best possible nap.

On a cold day
where it gets dark outside early,
people eat too much
food that contains tryptophane
early in the day
and settle in to watch football
while cuddling and napping with their teddy bears.

That might just be the best sentence ever written in the English language.

Parsimonious Explanations

2005-11-22T21:20:00.000-05:00

I fear Goofball jumped to a rather hasty conclusion. Over many years of careful observation and interviews with informed parties, I have crafted a theory as to what happens when bears disappear during naps.

Initially, I suspected that the guests were kidnapping the missing bears. However, guests frequently arrive and bears seldom disappear. It is possible that the tendency to walk about with a teddy bear is a stochastic process with a low probability of occurrence. However, I highly suspect there exists heterogeneity in guests. That is, most guests do not walk away with teddy bears, but a particular type of guest is prone to teddy bear acquisition.

The reader might think this theorizing is somewhat odd, but I would like to remind the reader that guests are a theoretical construct for teddy bears. Bears do not observe the behavior of guests since we are napping throughout the event of their visit. Indeed, Harriet's discussion of the guests is our only evidence that the visit occurred. Well, Harriet's discussion and the missing teddy bears.

The question then becomes, what type of guest would walk away with teddy bears? What evidence can we muster to address the question? For starters, what bear was missing? Bear. [Note: We really should come up with better names in the future. Naming a teddy bear Bear is unnecessarily confusing.] What is unique about Bear? He was one of the two bears ready to be sent to new families. Past experience has shown that this is a regular pattern among missing bears. Thus, it is my hypothesis that the guests of interest are the children for whom the teddy bear is intended. Extensive interviews with Harriet confirm that this is the case.

[Editor: Couldn't you have simply asked Harriet in the first place? Why go through all the reasoning?]

I suppose I could have simply asked Harriet, but I would rather exercise my cognitive abilities. There are precious few puzzles to occupy my intellect in this household.

[Editor: I think you just wanted to show off.]

It is conceivable. At this moment, I would like to congratulate Bear on his successful integration into his new family. Good luck, young man. Remember your lessons for they will serve you well.

Bear Napping

2005-11-22T20:42:00.000-05:00

Stop the presses! Whoa! There has been a bear napping! And I don't mean bears were sleeping, because that wouldn't be news. I mean a teddy bear has been snatched, abducted, and nabbed. And that is news. Sometimes we can't find Platy for a day or two, but this is serious.

Here's what went down, house guests came over, so all the bears hid in the closet as we are want to do. I don't personally want to hide, because I'm a people-bear and naturally gregarious. But some my brethren are a little more shy and don't like meeting new people. That poses something of a dilemma for us. You see, if a guest sees me, then he or she might surmise that there are other bears residing in the house. Everyone knows that bears live in dens full of other bears. So the guest might start poking around and find the bear cave. I know it would be rude for a guest to search the house, but you'd be surprised what people do when you leave them unattended. They think no one is watching, but George trained with the CIA and knows what happens. Anywho, all I'm trying to say is that we were in the closet because the house was being invaded by outsiders. I don't know whether they were radically other, but they were definitely other.

And when we're in the closet, we try to make the best use of our time. The first time we all got in the closet we thought singing campfire songs would be fun. But that made too much noise and drew attention to us, so we had to find something quieter. After much deliberation in hushed tones, the bears collectively decided that closet time is nap time. So we were all asleep in the closet.

And when we woke, Bear was missing. And I don't mean a bear in some generic sense, I mean Bear, Pi's bud, the kid we just through a going away party for. Bear was nowhere to be found. He was hanging in the closet with the rest of us, but then he was gone!

Where are those meddling kids with the Mystery Machine? We could use some crime solving right about now. If the Mystery Machine isn't available, how about the Bloodhound Gang? They seemed to do a good job of getting to the bottom of things in ten minutes or less. Or maybe Sherlock Hemlock. Really, I don't care who figures out what happened. I just want to get to the bottom of this and find Bear.

Goodbye Party

2005-11-21T23:26:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello. Today we threw a going away party for Bear and Pi. It was very sad. I mean, it was very fun. Oooh, it was very fun and a little sad. Yeah, yeah, I think that is right. It was nice to have such a large group of people together to say goodbye.

First, we started out by cuddling. That was nice. Then we decided to play charades. Um, charades is a little difficult for teddy bears to play. We don't move very quickly and our range of motion is a tad limited. So it is hard to pantomine different actions. Luckily, the only movie that most of us watch involves teddy bears, so it wasn't too hard to guess. Yeah, yeah. I think I performed Brother Bear three times. And the group guessed correctly every time. Um ... playing charades wore us out, so we decided to take a nap. Normally, I like napping, but this nap was bitter sweet since it was the last time that I would nap with Bear and Pi. Oh, saying good bye is very hard.

We decided to give Bear and Pi a lobster in honor of their new journey. What a nice way to begin a trip. Who wouldn't want to receive a lobster? Lobby is so friendly. Lobby managed to cheer everyone up and we felt like dancing. We boogied and shook our stuffin' until we felt like napping. Napping is the best.

Saying goodbye is not the best. I don't where it ranks precisely, but I don't like saying goodbye. I know that Bear and Pi have small children waiting for them, but I'll miss them a lot.

Um ... good luck little guys.

Vegetative State: Part II

2005-11-20T17:12:00.000-05:00

So like this time, I'm just going to start with the review, so I don't get sidetracked again.

Okay, like right off the bat, I'm a little suspicious of movies where the same person writes, directs, and stars. I mean, could anything scream "Look at ME!" louder? I doubt it. The whole movie is one big ego trip for Zach Braff. Come on, he named his character Andrew Largeman and like everyone in the whole movie calls him Large. Please. Is someone feeling a little insecure about getting a star on the sidewalk? It's like he is saying, "I'm a big star. Honest. People watch Scrubs and care about it. They really do. I'm huge!" Desperation is not cool.

So let's get to the important thing, do the guys look hot in this movie? And the aardvark says ... "Oh my god, no!" Zach Braff is the only halfway decent looking guy in the whole movie. It's like he felt insecure about his looks, so he cast only ugly people in hopes of making himself look better. And not only do the actors look appallingly normal, but they are dressed like thrift store mannequins who don't have access to a washing machine. Or a shower. So I guess we're supposed to focus on Zach Braff, well, let's give the baby his bottle and focus only on him. How does he look? I sup-pose he looks o-kaay, but like he can't carry a whole movie. He actually looks like Keanu Reeves less attractive cousin or something. Keanu would have totally made the movie more entertaining. I kept waiting for Largeman to yell, "Dude, I totally lost Bill. I gotta find him or Rufus is going to be pissed." And "that Frude Dude" would have totally fit into Garden State's psychiatrist theme. When find yourself wishing that Keanu Reeves was starring in a movie, then you know you're in for a long two hours.

So if kids aren't into the movies for the star, maybe it is something about the plot. Like if that is the case, our country is in a lot of trouble. The movie begins with Largeman (don't forget, Braff is a BIG star) lying in bed listening to his father leave a message on the answering machine about his paraplegic mother drowning herself in the bathtub. It's a heavy way to begin a movie, but like it could be good. It should give the rest of the movie some emotional weight, right? Wrong. I mean when the whole point of the main character is that he can't feel anything, then why is an aardvark supposed to care either? So instead of spending time with relatives or talking to his father, Largeman (BIG star) goes to crazy parties with his loser friends from high school.

And what is up with his high school? Largeman lives in a HUGE expensive house. I mean the bathroom must have run them a cool 80g's. The party he goes to has fashionably dressed women snorting lines off pilate firmed abs (it's so disgusting). But then, like most of his friends are working class stiffs who live in houses that the housing authority would pay you to tear down. As if. The point of moving to a suburb in New Jersey is so that your son doesn't go to school with people like that.

But then Mr. Big Star Braff meets Princess Leia's mom, and I guess they are supposed to fall in love or something. Oh my god, Natalie Portman was annoying and ugly looking. I'm betting that Jar-Jar Binks sells more action figures and posters than Padme and her royalties are drying up, cause Natalie acts in Garden State like she is channelling Jar-Jar. Like I can't tell you how annoying this character was. I guess we're supposed to think, "She's the first person who made that large man feel any emotion," but like the only emotion that Princess Leia's mom is capable of generating in this movie is annoyance. Part of it is the script and part of it is that when Natalie went to Harvard her head got filled up with so much other stuff that she forgot how to act.

The script is beyond bad. I almost snarfed when the weird hippy dude said "Good luck exploring your infinite abyss." I mean, it is bad enough that you have a boat sitting in a large quarry next to big houses in New Jersey with antique dealers living in it, but then using the phrase "infinite abyss" four times in two minutes was just too much. And in case you didn't pick up on it, "Hey! The main character also has an infinite abyss. Life feels empty and he is struggling with that. Understand?!" Please. The dialogue is awful throughout the movie. I'm not sure how Braff managed, but the characters are both inarticulate and heavy-handed throughout the entire movie. I wanted to hand each character a copy of Strunk & White, while hitting them on the head with a shovel. Who knew that I would long for Dawson and his overwrought prose.

So like the movie stars ugly and poorly dressed people, totally doinks on the whole high school experience thing, has a lame love story, and is boring. Why do kids like it? What is left? Like, I'm a little scared to say this, but I think kids like it because of the polemic. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, there is like this constant drumbeat saying "Ritalin and Lithium and Paxil and Zoloft are bad." They explain why our main character is always numb and acts like a telephone pole. And what is the solution to all these problems associated with prescription drugs? Stop taking them. I'm totally serous. The key to a happy life is to just stop taking your prescribed medications. I, for one, am completely appalled. And a little bit scared. I mean how screwed up is this generation of kids if THIS is the movie that they respond to?

And more importantly, how is a clean-living gorgeous aardvark supposed to become a superstar?

Vegetative State

2005-11-19T23:21:00.000-05:00

Like sometimes do you ever feel like you just don't fit in? I mean you look around and everyone is totally into something and you can't see the appeal. Like a few years ago Paris and Lindsey were wearing these boots with all this fake fur on top, but the look left me cold. I just couldn't get into it, ya know? Every time I looked at the boots, I kinda felt like one of my relatives had been turned into clothing and that isn't cool. I'm a slave to fashion, but there shouldn't be slaves making fashion. That is why I am totally against sweatshop labor.

Soooooo, the point is that I sometimes don't understand popular trends. I know you're sitting there thinking, "Buffy, aren't you like a trend setter? Why do you care about what other people are doing now?" And the people thinking that are some of the smartest people in the world and totally 100% right. But there are two types of trend setters in the world.

First, there are the visionaries who are like WAAAAY ahead of their time. They have their own thing that they want to share with the world, but like the world doesn't get it at all, but the artist like totally keeps at it, but is all frustrated because there is nobody to share things with and stuff. And then like years and years later, other artists understand what was up and then brings the ideas to the ordinary people and then everyone is like "Whoa, now I totally understand what that original visionary was up to." But like up until then, the visionary was like poor and living in some busted apartment in a lame part of town. I can think of a bunch of examples off the tip of my snout:

The Velvet Underground totally inspired lots of popular groups in the 80s, but they like sold only a handful of albums. I'm not sure how the distributor knew to send those few albums to little kids who would grow up to be famous, but like he totally succeeded. Maybe they should have sold them to older kids so the Velvet Underground would have been famous faster.

Everyone thought Van Gogh was a freak until he has been painting for years and years. And then I guess they still thought he was a freak, but they recognized that his paintings were beautiful and hung them up in their bathrooms and discount stores.

Alec Guiness was a truly great actor, but like all of his work was over in England and like you almost never see those movies at the local Cineplex. But then he played Obi-won Kenobe and everyone thought, "Dude, that Obi-won Kenobe can like really act. Who is that old guy?" Like Sir Alec would have been bigger than Robin Williams if he had been in an action movie earlier in his caeer. Maybe if he had played James Bond during the 50s things would have worked out differently for him.

Nietzsche, he was like poorer than most graduate students for most of his life. By the time he became famous, he had syphilis and his brain had turned to oatmeal. Totally tragic.

So like for all of these visionaries, like they didn't care that nobody noticed how cool they were. They were totally committed to their art and thought people would eventually think they were cool. And that is fine for them, but like I don't have a craft that I am committed to. I'm committed to being famous and like I don't want to be poor and live in a busted apartment in nowhere'sville.

That leads us to the second type of trend setter, the person just in front of the wave. You know, those people who aren't doing anything REALLY new, but are original enough that people worship the ground they walk on and give them lots of money. Oh my god, there are so many examples of these types of people. Madonna is like totally my hero and totally ripping off other people's ideas. She knows that you just have to sell it better than anyone else. And she totally does and for that reason she's like really famous and really rich and people know all about her. Tom Hanks isn't as good an actor as John Malkovich, but he'll take these really normal roles and do just good enough a job to make people want to see the movie. And what do Madonna and Tom Hanks have in common? They are all really rich, totally famous, completely glamorous, and I want to be just like them. They don't have to bring anything new, they just have to act the part.

And not having new ideas doesn't mean you can't still be intense. Like if you're a musician, being brooding and intense is all part of the image that you totally crafted. I mean I *love* Coldplay and think that Chris Martin is totally hot, but like they aren't doing anything Radiohead hasn't done before. But people can listen to Coldplay at Starbucks, and Radiohead like weirds people out. I know the intensity is all an act, cuz I've seen Chris interact with Gwyneth and Apple (btw, who names their child after a fruit? Weird). He's like all sweet and smiley. But teenagers want to see angst, so you have to frown and keep four days of stubble at all times. There is a reason that the band is named Coldplay and not Warmplay.

Aaa-n-ee-ways, I got off track. Like the point is that to be really famous, you have to be just ahead of the wave. So like it is totally important to me to find out what the wave is now. I mean like surfers go out and paddle around and look like dorks so that they can find themselves on a good wave and look totally hot. I need to do the same thing. So I had to find out why Garden State is so popular with kids today. I mean college kids are describing it as the movie that captures their generation.

Like, I think I just wrote the longest introduction to a movie review in the history of the internet. I'm exhausted. I'll have to review the movie later. Peace.

Laundry Basket

2005-11-11T22:52:00.000-05:00

H-h-h-i. Hi. The other day, something exciting happened. Wagsy and Goofball and George and Lewis got into a laundry basket. Then they got out of the laundry basket. It was very exciting.

Four doofs in a laundry basket -- so what?

2005-11-11T22:32:00.000-05:00

So like the other day, Amelia and I are lying around talking about how the media is all hypocritical because they say that Britney is a bimbo and not interesting, but then they like follow her around everywhere. Hello! You can't have it both ways fellas. And then before we can start planning out my next photographic art exhibition, like this ruckus gets started. I mean it like totally came out of nowhere and totally derailed my train of thought. And like this household is usually pretty peaceful, so like you notice when feathers get ruffled.

Like I'm still not sure of what led to the uproar. Wagsy is all up in Goofball's face telling him to do something. So then Goofball suggests like burying Wagsy, who then like comes right back and talk about jealousy. At this point, I'm in total shock. I mean this NEVER happens. And Wagsy and Goofball are tight like my store's marketing budget. So I'm blown away and stuff. I mean, if this had been an episode of Law and Order then Goofball or Wagsy would have ended up dead. I didn't catch all of it, but it sounded intense.

So like I turn around to ask Amelia if she knows what is going on and when I turn back, Wagsy, Lewis, George, and Goofball had all jumped in a laundry basket. I was ready for anything, but I was NOT expecting them jump in a laundry basket. It should be pointed out that Lewis was wearing an adorable set of overalls that seemed perfect for our unseasonably warm fall. So like now I am transfixed. Like what is going to happen?

It turns out that they are pretending to go bobsledding. George and Lewis seem really into it and Wagsy is providing sound effects that sound sort of like a street sweeper. Goofball is complaining about sitting in the back of the basket and about elbows and stuff. The guys are totally rocking the basket side to side and seem to be enjoying himself.

So like I turn to Amelia to tell her how sweet this whole thing is, but like when I turn back, everyone has jumped out of the laundry basket and there is excess stuffin laying around. Absolutely foul. So gross.

And I was there, but I have no idea what happened. I mean it might have been exciting, but I missed it and noone wants to talk about it. It is moments like these I wish the paparazi were following me around so these things would be documented and I could watch re-plays on television.

Laundry Basket Bobsledding: Goofball's Tail

2005-11-11T20:59:00.000-05:00

Okay, I want to set the record straight. Now, I don't disagree with anything Wagsy said per se, but I wanted to provide an alternative history. You know, not HIS-story, but MY story. I suppose I'm a him too, but providing another perspective will help the reader understand how events transpired.

So we're all lounging. Just chillin' in the bed and shooting the breeze. Out of the blue, Wagsy gets all antsy and starts pushing for an activity. Now I wasn't opposed to doing something, but I was perfectly happy doing nothing before Wagsy's mandate. I'm willing to go along with the plan, but I want to know what is going down first. Trouble was, Wagsy was all declaration and no details. He didn't know what we should do, just knew that we should do something. My initial proposal of burying Wagsy in blankets was rejected, so I suggested laundry basket bobsledding.

Now everyone seemed to like this suggestion and I'm thinking we're going to have some fun. I suppose we did, but I didn't anticipate how the fun would be distributed. Guess where they sat the idea man? You know, the good looking genius who came up with the idea of laundry basket bobsledding in the first place. Where'd I sit? The back. Yup, the back of the bobsled. So I didn't get the wind in my face or an unobstructed view as we went down the mountain. And, who pushes the bobsled the longest? That's right, the person in the back. So here I come up with a good idea and end up pushing all those useless piles of polyester down the mountain. And when a sled is going downhill, what direction do objects travel relative to the sled. You got it -- the back. Everything seems to be going okay, but the next thing I know the bunny is jumpin' ship and a big mess is headed my way.

I'm not saying the other bears are out to get me. I'm not paranoid or anything. I'm just pointing out that I am not getting the respect I deserve from my peers. I know Wagsy loves me and he's my bud. But to paraphrase a blond 1950s icon: I got the fuzzy end of the lollipop.

Laundry Basket Bobsledding

2005-11-10T22:49:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! Since Ozzie is a pillowhead spends his time making pointless, "painfully annoying" mix CDs, we bears decided to entertain ourselves. Now that Ozzie and Harriet both have jobs, we spend most of the day amongst only bears and we've become very good at having fun without our people. The untrained eye might think we are lying around, but actually ... um ... we are ... um ... yeah, we kinda are just lying around. But, I'd just like to say that napping is very fun.

So at first we decided to entertain ourselves by napping. And we had a very good nap. But it seemed a little unsatisfying and that is ... um ... unusual and a little disappointing. Sometimes Harriet feels tired and unsatisfied after a nap, but bears almost always sleep well. Why wasn't the nap doing its job?

Um ... well, it turns out that we wanted to make Ozzie a little jealous so he would come play with us. I know it isn't very mature or furry, but ... well ... it was kinda true. I think we wanted the pillowhead to notice all the fun he was missing out on and ... um ... napping didn't seem to do the trick. So we had to do something new.

Enter Laundry Basket Bobsledding. Wow. I think Goofball came up with the idea. Wow.

So here we are at the top of the mountain with lots of fluffy and white snow. Looking down we can see that it is very steep and ... um ... a little scary. We bears aren't very used to excitement.

Whoosh! Look at how my ears are flying back because of the wind. Lewis and my bunny George are getting pushed back in all the acceleration. Whoosh! ... that is kind of fun, I think I'll say it again ... Whoosh! ... Whoosh! WHOOSH!

Um ... unfortunately, Lewis couldn't handle all the excitement and blew stuffing. George decided this was a good time to get out of the laundry basket. Goofball and I seconded the motion. Poor Lewis. Don't worry though, his snazzy overalls were okay.

And you know, despite all that excitement, Ozzie never once looked over at us. Maybe it was because we were moving too fast for him to see. Whoosh! Whoooosh!

Um ... whoosh.

Painfully Annoying

2005-11-10T00:06:00.000-05:00

Oooof! Um ... hello. Ozzie can be so frustrating some times. He was working on his laptop in bed and everyone was happy. Squawky and I were watching him type and read and we were all cozy. Then Ozzie decided to make a "Painfully Annoying" mix of music. Um ... I'm not an expert in music, but I don't it was necessary tonight. Um ... Ween is not music and neither is Whitney Houston. Ooooh, it was painful. When Ozzie sets his mind to something, he sure can succeed. I tried stuffing cotton in my ears, but then I remembered that they are already full of polyester.

Um ... what really upset me was that Ozzie would rather spend his time listening to music he thinks is bad than play with the bears. We could have played Trivial Pursuit. Or, maybe even Yahtzee. But instead we had to listen to "She Don't Use Jelly." Um ... it is pretty insulting when you think about it.

Pudgie is really upset. Ozzie should really be working on lectures for next week. Conferences papers might be something that he could get a jump on too. Um ... there are a lot of better uses for Ozzie's time. Pudgie then said that if Ozzie insisted on wasting his time on music, he could at least listen to Beethoven or Bartok. Ozzie responded by thanking Pudgie and adding "A Fifth of Beethoven" to the mix. Pudgie was not amused. I don't think I've ever seen him so mad to be honest. He almost started hopping around he was so angry.

Um ... you know I never thought I could dislike cuddling in the bed, but when the Spice Girls are playing it is hard to enjoy anything in life. I think when Ozzie leaves the house we will have to hide the new mix cd. A bear can take only so much.

I Love this Game

2005-11-07T22:14:00.000-05:00

Goofball here. The NBA season has started and, in theory, that should mean that Ozzie and I sit around watchin' a little ball together. Of course, in theory I could release a gold record and become a huge star in Japan, but in practice, it ain't happening. Why won't Ozzie and I be watchin' basketball together? Because the skin flint won't pony up for cable, that's why. I'd be perfectly happy to watch Sir Charles and Kenny banter about basketball on Thursday nights, but our abode in The Bend is sans TNT.

Now, long time readers might be asking themselves, "Self, isn't Ozzie the most hoopless of hoopsheads?" And you'd be right. The boy spends hours pouring over box scores. He exchanges lame emails singing the praises of his ninth round pick of Smush Parker in his fantasy basketball draft. Ozzie has had two recurring dreams in his life: one involved walking around his junior high school naked while sitting in a bath tub; and the other was that Tracy McGrady and Kevin Garnett were playing on the same team. The kid is obsessed and pathetic, but he won't bring it into the house saying it's like an alcoholic opening a bar. I keep trying to tell him, "Haven't you seen Cheers? Funny and charming stuff happens when an alcoholic opens a bar." But Ozzie ain't buyin' any, so I only get to watch a handful of basketball games.

Truth be known, I don't fully understand or appreciate the game of basketball. For starters, I'm three feet tall and have never exercised a day in my life. I don't know a "hand check" from a "rain check" and I don't really care. I suppose it is kind of novel to watch people sweat on TV. Usually producers go to great lengths to hide perspiration, but not the producers of the NBA. Do they douse the players during time outs? And placing an inflated cow hide through an iron ring doesn't hold my interest. Maybe it's because I identify more with the ball than the players. I dunno. Anywho, the point is that I watch basketball to hang out with Ozzie and not because I like the sport.

What I do like about the NBA are the players. Where else can you find a multi-millionaire who physically choked an employer turning down a $21 million three year contract sayin'

"Why would I want to help them win a title? They're not doing anything for me. I've got a lot at risk here. I've got my family to feed."

That is high comedy. How could it be topped? Well, suppose the player found himself unemployed next season because no team wanted to offer him even $1.5 million per year. THAT is what we call a rude wake up call by the invisible hand.

Seven million bucks
will buy many teddy bears
Hugs for the jobless

But my favorite player by far is Shaq. Like his game, my enthusiasm for Shaq can't be contained. First off, he dubbed himself the Big Aristotle. You really can't top that nickname. Big Hume? Nope. Super Spinoza? Huge Heidegger? Not even close. Big Aristotle or bust, baby.

Second off, he's big. He's comically big. Big shoes. Big hands. Big appetites. Big smile. BIG! He's a cartoon not an athlete. No wonder the Japanese were obsessed with him. Shaq is like a rim rattlin' Power Puff Girl. Well, maybe not, but you get the point.

Finally, the Big Aristotle says whacky stuff. When asked whether he visited the Parthenon during the Athens Olympics, he said "I can't really remember the names of the clubs we went to." Funny thing is, I bet there is a club called the Parthenon in Athens. But my all time favorite Shaq-ism is "My game is like the Pythagorean Theorem; no one has the answer." Not unless you're counting 8th grade geometry students, big fella.

Really, any sport starring the Big Aristotle has to have something going for it. I don't even mind that Shaq-fu sprained his ankle the other night. When he's not playing, the Diesel can spend even more time sitting around talking to reporters or making Nestle Crunch ads. He just makes me happy, alright?

Now, I wish Ozzie would get around to making me happy and get cable. How else is a bear gonna hang with his person?

Birthday Party

2005-11-01T22:36:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! So this weekend, we threw a big birthday party for Harriet. Yeah, yeah. It was really fun. We bears don't throw parties very often, but when we do we really go all out. Let's see there is ... um .... Christmas and ... um ... National Teddy Bear Day and ... Valentine's Day and ... um ... Easter and St. Patrick's Day ... um ... and Election Day because that is when we get Ozzie back and he stops being tired and grouchy and ... May Day and April Fool's Day and ...

(whisper)

No, no, I don't think we celebrate Kwanzaa.

(whisper)

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that we don't celebrate Kwanzaa.

(whisper)

You're right it is a pretty word, maybe we should look into celebrating Kwanzaa,

(whisper)

No, I can't recall ever celebrating Australia Day. Um ... do you --

(whisper)

No, we don't celebrate Anzac Day. Look, I'm try--

(whisper)

Platy, do you mind!? I'm trying to write a post about Harriet's birthday party and you're ... um ... distracting me.

(whimper)

Um, that's okay, Platy. Don't be sad ... ooh! I made Platy cry. Um ... I know that you didn't mean to be annoying. Don't worry. Everyone interupts me when I post. ooh! He's still crying. What should I do? ... um ... Do you want to help me post, Platy? Would that make you feel better?

Platy: M-m-m-maybe.

Wagsy: Good, good. Um ... what was I talking about?

Platy: H-h-holidays.

Wagsy: Um ... you're right. The point I was making is that we don't celebrate many holidays, so we make a big deal out of Harriet's birthday. All of the bears get together and get dressed up for the party. Sometimes we have trouble deciding upon a theme for dressing up. We all have different ideas. Goofball wanted a Western theme so he could dress up as a cowboy. Pudgie wanted everyone to dress in academic regalia to honor Harriet's first birthday as a professor. Buffy suggested --

Platy: I wanted a vegetable theme so I could come as root marm.

Wagsy: Um ... yeah, yeah you did suggest vegetables. It was a very nice suggestion. Um ... I don't think I've ever heard anyone say they wanted to dress up like rootmarm. What is rootmarm?

Platy: Thanks. It is a brown flavorless mush.

Wagsy: O-kay ... anyways, the theme we decided upon was birthday party, so we all put on birthday hats. I think we looked very cute.

Wagsy: Ooh! I love it when we all get together for parties. It is so nice to see the whole family together.

Platy: Especially at Kwanzaa.

Wagsy: Um ... Platy, I already told you; we don't celebrate Kwanzaa. I'm sure it is a very nice holiday, but ... um ... we just don't do it. ... Um ... anyways, we surprised Harriet and we gave her flowers. We would have given her a body pillow but Ozzie moved a little too slowly.

Platy: We also gave her a lobster.

Wagsy: Oooh! You're right, you're right. We did give Harriet a lobster. Lobby is a very nice lobster too. We give her a lobster every year. He's about the size of a bouquet of flowers, and he's really colorful, and he's always happy. Yeah, yeah, it is nice to receive a lobster. No holiday would be complete without giving a lobster. Um ... I think Harriet enjoyed her party. What do you think, Platy?

Platy: My hat didn't fit.

Wagsy: Um ... you're right. Your hat didn't fit. I guess that is a problem with being a small bear.

Platy: I'm a platypus.

Wagsy: I know, Platy, that --

Platy: I'm brown. I'm round.

Wagsy: And you're upside down.

Platy: Yes. How did you know?

Wagsy: Lucky guess. Um ... Happy birthday, Harriet!

Happy Birthday, Harriet!

2005-10-25T23:25:00.000-05:00

Um ... hello! Today is a very special day in the bed. Today is Harriet's birthday. Yeah, yeah. We're all very excited. We have a lot planned for today. We all worked together and tried very hard to show Harriet how much we love her. She knows that we love her every day, but birthdays are a good time to make the special effort and go the extra mile.

Of course, um ... teddy bears aren't very good at going the extra mile. We have very short legs and we ... um ... like to take naps, which gets in the way of walking an extra mile and ... um ... well, we're not very mobile. So we have to rely on the cheesecake butt to help us. That ... um ... poses a problem for us bears. You see, Ozzie isn't always the most reliable assistant to the bears. He ... um ... sometimes forgets things like, well, Christmas, or birthdays. Um ... he buys Harriet presents from him, but he doesn't always remember to help us out. Pillowhead.

Um ... anyways, this year we were going to cash in all the change in the bear bank and buy Harriet a body pillow. Ooh, it looks verrry soft. It is made out of space age poly-mers and responds to body heat. It is like a bigger version of Goofball without a head or arms or legs. Um ... actually, it doesn't look like Goofball at all, but we think Harriet will enjoy sleeping with it. But it took us a while to come to this concensus.

Buffy: Okay, guys, like what are we going to buy Harriet for her birthday? It's like totally coming up, you know. We better like move fast or we'll miss it like a near sighted baseball player.

Wagsy: Um ... does anyone have any good idea?

Platy: I think we should get her an airplane. You can go places in those.

Wagsy: Oooooh! That is a good idea, Platy. Harriet likes to travel. I don't know where we would park a plane, but I suppose that is Ozzie's concern.

Buffy: Like I think that an airplane would be totally crunk, I mean only the truly wealthy and successful celebrities have their own plane, but like I don't think we can afford it.

Goofball: I agree with the aardvark, good idea what there is no way we can afford it. Stuffy! How much money do we have in the bank? Enough to buy a plane?

Gladstone: Surely, you jest. We couldn't possibly have more than fifty US dollars in our bank.

Goofball: Okay, so the plane is out. Anyone else have any ideas?

Duck: Quack quack quack quack quack. QuaCK QUAck quack. Quack, quACK quack quaCK. QUACK! QUACK! Quack.

Goofball: I hear what you're sayng, Duck, but I'm not sure I understand. Hasn't that been done before?

Moose: Moose!

Buffy: Like we need to get Harriet something that really spoils her and makes her feel like a princess. But like the whole prob is that you can't really do that for fifty dollars. I mean, like an hour at a good masseuse costs more than that and that like disappears when you hour is over.

Amelia: What about a body pillow?

Wagsy: Ooooh! A body pillow. That sounds nice. Um ... what is a body pillow?

Amelia: It is a pillow you sleep with to keep your spine in alignment. It stretches from your head to your knees and you wrap your body around it.

Buffy: That is a totally fabulous idea, Amelia.

Goofball: Wait a minute here. Wait just one minute. It sounds to me that with a pillow in the bed, that means less bedtime cuddling for the rest of us. Actually, it means less bed time cuddling for George and myself since we are the ones Harriet sleeps with most of the time. I don't like the idea of being replaced by a polyurethane pilon!

Moose: Moose!

Wagsy: Now, Goofball, we all have to make some sacrifices in order to make Harriet happy.

Goofball: You're just saying that because Harriet will stop stealing your bunny if she gets the pillow. Well, I ain't gonna stand for this type of insult. I'm being displaced and I am NOT happy about it.

Buffy: Like chill out, Goofball. Like no one is going anywhere or being replaced. You could come over and hang with Amelia and I when she uses the body pillow. Besides, the pillow goes between her legs; you're like up on her head and stuff. She can still wear you as a hat at night.

Wagsy: So everyone is agreed that we'll buy Harriet a body pillow?

Goofball: I still ain't happy about it.
Wagsy: Goofball.
Goofball: Oh, alright. You know I can't say no to that girl.

Um ... so we went to Ozzie with the gift idea. The only problem was that ... um ... Ozzie never got around to ordering it. He did research and even placed one in an on-line shopping , but he never hit purchase. Pillowhead. So the bears will have to wait to give Harriet her birthday gift.

But we can still wish her a happy birthday!

And we can give her a lobster!

Journeys with Platy: Washington, DC Part 3

2005-10-23T21:22:00.000-05:00

I'm home now. The ride back in the plane was nice. Ozzie let me ride with him and not in the suitcase. It was cramped. It was loud. But it wasn't cold. The computer smooshed me against the sides. A book kept getting pushed into my face. It wasn't very comfortable. But Ozzie let me look out the window. Everything was grey. I thought the land lost its color when you go up high. Ozzie told me that those were the clouds. I had never seen clouds from up top before. Clouds look the same right side up and they do upside down. They look very soft.

People were happy to see me. They asked me lots of questions. I didn't know how to answer all of them.

Wagsy: Did you have a good time?

Platy: Yes.

Goofball: So, whatcha do? Where'd'ya'go? Whatcha see?

Platy: We went to the mall.

Buffy: Oh, my god! You went to Washington, DC and
went shopping? Like what did you get?

Platy: Uh, uh, uh, I saw shirts for sale.

Buffy: Totally give me the scoop! What were they like? How heavy was the cotton? Was it like super high
quality aardvark wear or was it that cheap stuff you can get for a dollar or two? What were the colors? Was it like the
same-old-same-old white and black, or were there totally hot new colors like papaya and aurora? Like totally tell me everything about the competition! Were there any aardvarks on the shirts?

Platy: Uh, uh, uh, I saw Squawky on a shirt.

Buffy: Oh, god, that is so cool! Squawky did you hear that?! You rock!

Squawky: Squawky?

Wagsy: Ooh, that is so exciting. Um ... are you sure that it was our Squawky and not some other eagle?

Buffy: Ya know, I'm a little offended that you didn't put your shirts up for sale on my site, but I like I totally understand. It's not like our sales team is working magic or anything. I'd totally dump my site for a better one. I love you guys, but I'll sell this aardvark's face to the highest bidder. Getting sales reps at tourist destinations like Washington, DC is like totally smart. You'll have to give me the name of your agent and distributor.

Squawky: Squawky?

Goofball: Hey ... hey, HEY! Everyone stand back and
give Platy some room to breathe. Little guy is hyperventilating. You okay?

Platy: Uh, uh, yeah.

Goofball: Anything else you want to share with us?
Platy: I'm brown. I'm round. And, I'm upside down.

I should travel more. People respect travellers. And I saw clouds from up top.

Journeys with Platy: Washington, DC Part 2

2005-10-20T22:23:00.000-05:00

Hi. Today we went to the Mall. It was a lot bigger than any other mall I have been to. It didn't have a roof, but that was okay because it was sunny. It also had grass and gravel. Gravel is bad for fur. Ozzie carried me, so I felt safe.

It was a real mall. At first, I didn't think there were stores, then I saw all the food and t-shirts. You could buy a lot of t-shirts. My favorite t-shirt had an eagle on it. I liked it because it reminded me of Squawky. There some shirts that made jokes. I'm not really sure what they were about. I didn't think the shirts were funny.

The first thing I saw was the Washington Monument. It looks like a big pencil. Washington was famous for cutting down a cherry tree and standing up in a boat. The second thing we saw was the Lincoln Memorial. President Lincoln had a very big lap. You could fit all the bears in the country on that lap. Lincoln is famous for writing the emasculation proclamation and lived in a --

[Editor: Platy, I think you mean the emancipation proclamation.]

I-I-I don't know. I'm not really sure what the words mean. What's the difference?

[Editor: Well ... emancipate means to liberate or free. Emasculate ... uh ... it means to ... castrate?]

What does that word mean?

[Editor: Oh, well, ... uh ... it means to ... uh ... hmmm ... how do I put this delicately?]

You don't know how to define the word either, do you?

[Editor: No, Platy, no I don't.]

So Lincoln lived in a log cabin on Gettysburg Street and made a . . . proclamation. Is that right?

[Editor: Close enough, Platy.]

I liked the mall, but I thought it was too big. Everything was really big. Even the t-shirts were big. It made me feel very small. Did it make you feel small, Ozzie?

[Editor: Yes, I feel small every time I come to Washington. What was your favorite part of the day, Platy?]

I liked it when we walked by the White House. It is big and white. Movers and shakers work there.

[Editor: Why are you so fixated on "movers and shakers"?]

I like furniture.

[Editor: Was that a joke, Platy?]

I don't know. Was it funny?

[Editor: Uh, yeah, Platy, I suppose it was.]

Could you explain it to me?

Journeys with Platy: Washington, DC

2005-10-19T21:57:00.000-05:00

H-h-h-i-i-i. Hi. I rode on a plane today. I thought it might be exciting, but it wasn't exciting at all. It was mostly loud and cold. And it made my ears pop. At first it was dark and warm and quiet in the suitcase, but then it got really noisy and cold. It was still dark though. And it made my ears pop. That's never happened before.

When it stopped being loud, the suitcase started to shake and move alot. I thought we must be passing the White House. Or Congress. Or the Supreme Court. There are a lot of movers and shakers in Washington. I asked Ozzie if we were passing the White House. He said we must have at some point. I think passing the White House was the highlight of my day.

Eventually, Ozzie opened the suitcase and let me see our hotel room. It doesn't smell like home. It's painted green, too. Nothing at home is painted green. Ozzie let me look out the window to see a big building. It is the Temple of Scottish Freemasonry. I don't understand how you could build a building that big for free.

Ozzie then put me on the bed to watch TV. We have cable. There are 78 channels to choose from. I wasn't sure what to watch. There were a lot of choices. Everyone spoke really fast. I wasn't sure what was going on. I decided to watch Telemundo. The people seemed really nice and they talked faster than anyone else on any other channel. Something bad must have happened, because they cried a lot. Sometimes they cried like they were happy. Sometimes they cried like they were sad. But they always spoke really fast.

Tomorrow, Ozzie says he's going to take me outside to see the sites. I'm very excited. Maybe we'll meet some movers and shakers. I'm good at shaking. I think I'll try to find the Austrailian embassy and let them know I am here. I think they lost track of me a long time ago. You know why?

Because I'm brown. I'm round. And I can't be found.

Good night, everybody.

Babies and Celebrity

2005-10-18T22:14:00.000-05:00

So like is it just me, or should the world be worried that Britney Spears is a mother? Okay, so I should like state up front that I think people are unnecessarily harsh about her talent. I mean she isn't the world's greatest singer or maybe even a great singer, but if she were standing next to you at church or something you'd think, "Hey, that chick sings okay." And Britney's dance moves won't make people think of a young Paula Abdul, but she must be doing something right because guys are drooling over her, you know what what I'm saying? But motherhood is a totally different world altogether than singing and dancing. I mean it is a HUGE responsibility. I like Britney, but I'm not sure she is ready for this particular spotlight. I mean, it doesn't seem like she is at a stable point in her life. She still likes to party. Just today the Inquirer claimed that Britney was back drinking again. That type of behavior might be okay for a twenty-something diva, but it is definitely not cool for a mother.

Which brings me to a question that I have been asking for a few years now: Is it possible to be both a mega-watt celebrity and a parent? Madonna has taken a bit of a back seat now that she is the Material Mom. She thinks she's British now, too, but I don't think that has anything to do with motherhood. Maybe moving to England chilled her career, or maybe is that she finally got like way old, or like maybe she has run out of ideas, but it all seemed to coincide with parenthood.

Maybe it depends upon what type of celebrity you are. Like if you rely upon shocking people and wild lifestyles for your fame, then parenthood will totally end your career. Cuz like if you stop being crazy, then why would people pay attention? And if you continued to act all wild and stuff, then people would totally disapprove and think you are a way bad parent. But like celebrities are famous for something positive, like beauty or music or acting ability, then like you might be able to make it work for you. Heidi Klum was really hot and so people paid attention to her. And you'd think that pregnancy would interfere with hotness, but it totally hasn't. She literally worked her buns off and looks better than ever. Cindy Crawford did the same thing, so now she is the hot mom in the Pepsi ad. I bet she'd like to be doing something more than a Pepsi ad, but you gotta start somewhere, ya know? Pepsi spends a lot of money on advertising and like each time that ad shows it is an ad for Cindy and how good looking she is.

Maybe Britney will be a good mother. I mean Angelina Jolie wasn't exactly the poster girl for sanity when she adopted Maddox. She was married to Billy Bob Thornton, which should like disqualify anyone from parenthood until you get a doctor's note or something. He's super icky. Anyways, like the point is that Angelina is a super mom now. She looks totally devoted to Maddox and takes him everywhere. Maybe motherhood will bring out the best in Britney. You know push her from "still not a woman" to "like totally a woman."

Maybe, but if maybe's were coral, there would be a whole lot more coral reefs (and in weird places, too). I'm not holding my breath, but I hope she proves the paparazzi wrong again.

Dear Goofball

2005-10-12T17:23:00.000-05:00

Goofball here. I've been letting the ol' inbox gather dust and now I'm up to my armpits in unreplied mail. I reckon that now is as good as time as any to rectify matters and issue replies.

Dear Goofball,

I think you're awfully cute. Were you born that cute or did you grow into it like Harrison Ford or Sean Connery?

Love, Bear Babe

Yeah, I started off with a softball letter. Who can blame a bear for wanting share a letter from an admirer? Don't worry, I'll get to tougher letters later on. But to answer the young lady's question, I was born this cute. I'd like to think that I'll grow cuter over time, but bears don't usually age well. Our fur gets matted down or torn out altogether. Our stuffin' starts to sag and our postures gets worse. Come to think of it, we all begin to look more like Ozzie. Zing! Onto the next letter ...

Goofball,

You must be suffering through a schitzophrenic football season. Notre Dame looks to be doing alright, but the Packers stink. How are you handling the contrasting emotions? Feel any different about Charlie Weis now that he has coached a few months?

--Football Fan

Good question. How do I feel about this football season? Hmm ... let me see ... you know, I don't much care. I'm more a football fan by necessity rather than by passion. I save my emotional investment for my friends and family members. When Wagsy gets dusty because Harriet throws him on the floor (by mistake, lest there by any doubt), you know, I get a little upset. But the Packers starting out 0-4 ain't nothing to get me riled up. I figured I would root for the Pack since they are publicly owned and in a small, cold town.

Now Charlie Weis is another story. He seems to be doing okay. The offense is potent and the defense is solid. But a lot of people seem to be annointing him a genius and the Goofball doesn't like to throw that term around. The man coaches football, which is a game and not to be confused with game theory. You can't win a Nobel Prize in football and there is a reason for that (and don't give me any nonsense about the awards being in Sweden where they don't play football). I'd like to remind people that my man Tyrone Willingham was doing just as well his first year at ND and they canned his sorry ass. I'm also bothered by the fact that Weis is driven around in a little cart everywhere. You had you stomach stapled, man, burn some calories by walking around!

Yo Goofball,

Ah bin reedin' 'bout Bushy-es Cort Nomi-nations. Ah reckin he put on one IV edukatd jerk and wanted to ballence it out with an underkwalified frend. What are yor thotts on the Nomi-nations?

Sinsearly, a reel berr

You know, some times it bugs the fibers out of me when I read letters from other bears. They just sound ignorant and quite frankly it is embarassing. Why can't teddy bears spell, huh? I know we have stuffing for bears, but we have to work past those handicaps. Now, I'm not a stick in the mud. I'm not like Pudgie or Gladstone; I make more liberal use of the vernacular. I also recognize that there are distinctive teddy bear idioms that are a valid form of self-expression. But how do you expect anyone to take your views seriously when you can't spell anything?

As for Harriet Miers, I'm not sure I have anything unique to add to the conversation. Miers is taking a lot of abuse from both the left and the right. I would feel sorry for her, but she's been nominated for one of the most powerful jobs in the land. She pretty much won the lottery. Besides, any woman who comes up through Texas politics is tough as nails and doesn't need anyone's sympathy.

Dear Goofball,

I was wondering if you had an opinion on cable versus satelite television? Both seem to have their plusses. Um ... mostly their plusses are the extra channels, so I suppose they would have dozens and dozens of plusses. Ooh, that would be verrry nice. Don't you agree?

-- A long time fan, first time writer

That cadence sounds awfully familar. Something tells me that Wagsy is agitating for more channels again. I'm all for the channels, but I wish he'd stop filling up my inbox. Follow Michael Jackson's advice: If you want to make the world a better place, start with the man in the mirror -- and the only man in this household is Ozzie. Send your cloying emails to him.

Goofball --

Halloween is coming up and I don't know what to wear. Do you have any good costume ideas?

-- Lost in Loserville

Hmm ... sounds like you need a boost in self-esteem, Lost in Loserville. So you should definitely pick a costume that makes you feel good about yourself. For most people, that means picking a costume where you look your sexiest. Harriet used to go as Ms Texas. Trying to look like a celebrity is usually a good call. I mean, who wouldn't look good dressed up like Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider? Other people try to go for something cute and creative. Ozzie liked dressing up as a spider so he would have an extra four legs to dance with. One key is not to try too hard on the costume, cuz there is always a risk that the costume will bomb. And then where would you be? Feeling stupid because you wasted two days on a costume people think is lame. Put in just enough effort so people know what you are and then sit back and wait for someone to ask you to dance.

Well, that is about it from the Goofball. I know I promised the questions would get tougher, but what can I say , I lied to keep y'all reading until the end of the post.

Still spectating and speculating in the Bend.

Update on Rose, Tequila Teddy and Salt

2005-10-05T23:40:00.000-05:00

Um ... we are really behind on our posts. I don't know why, but we haven't been able to find the time to write as much as we'd like. Ooh! There has been so much going on that it is hard to keep track of it all. But ... um ... before I get sidetracked, I thought I'd post updates on Rose and her teddy bears, who were in that awful hurricane.

The first update comes from our friends Teddy and Spaulding. Ooh, there person is very resourceful (editor: in comparison to anyone you know? Wagsy: Um ... no. No one I know ... pillowhead). Here is what they wrote:

As I've been worrying about Rose and her family, I felt guilty worrying about Tequila Teddy and J.D. too. OK, not guilty, because I was happy to know Rose got them out too, but more along the lines of wanting to give what we can directly to Rose and Gil, and not "wasting" on Tequila and J.D.! My conumdrum is that I am as attached to my bears as she is to hers, and, since they were such big helps, I didn't want them to go unrewarded!
Sooo, what to do?!I contacted my teddies and my favorite store in the whooooooooole world, Build-A-Bear Workshop, and asked them if they could donate New Orlean Saints uniforms or sweatshirts, knowing that even if Rose, Gil, Teddy and J.D. never go home again, New Orleans is always their home! At first, I got a nice general letter outlining what Build-A-Bear has been doing for the victims of Katrina (sent $30,000 to the area, had a big Workshop day in Houston, where they got volunteers to come in and help them make 1000 bears for the kids stuck in the Astrodome, and cutting prices for anyone in the country who wants to hold a party in their workshops so they can donate even more bears), so I assumed that they just wouldn't help anyone who contacted them. (Not upset, again, because it's the people who need the most help.) Well, this last week, I was sent another letter from the same bear-assistant at Build-A-Bear, and she sent us the two uniforms, so we could hold onto them until we know where and when Tequila Teddy and J.D. can accept their new clothes!!!! (My bears want to try them on, but they know they are for their good buddies, so can't!) We got help for those beary helpful bears just by explaining and asking!

Isn't that nice of Teddy and Spaulding's owner? Um ... I kn0w exactly how she feels about being worried about the teddy bears. I mean, teddy bears are around to take care of their people and don't really feel pain, but ... but ... you don't exactly want to see them washed away in a muddy, awful hurricane either. And that was really nice of Build-a-Bear to donate the jerseys. Um ... you would figure a company that builds teddy bears would be nice and it is good to see that it is true.

Then Rose and Teddy wrote to let everyone know how they are doing:

Dear wonderful friends, I am sending mucho hugs and gratitude to all who have been so concerned, generous and loving. I hope to get back in the swing of things soon and answer your wonderful emails and posts, but now I must leave my darling daughter to find an apartment and it is a long and scary task building a new life, especially for an agoraphobic with fibro, lol should be quite an adventure! and dear readers, hope to get back to writing about my experience at Garden Gumbo sometime, will keep you posted, please keep the prayers coming, do not forget about us...thank you so much....peace and love...

Hugs and misses, Rose

ps. TEDDY sez:HAYYYY bear buddeez I am tinkin of yew and all da fun wee will have wen i git bak frum morning my frenz. Even teddies git da blooz. Keep yur prayirz komin fur Mis Rose, she gitz kinda nutty sumtymez n i dont meen da gud treetz yew eatz neethur. Speekin of, if any buddee haz any xtra treetz send em c/o me TEDDY two po boxx 2tousind teen, anywhar USA hehehehehhehehhehe

Um ... I don't think Teddy gave the right PO Box. I've never used one before, but "anywhar USA" should have a zipcode. Shouldn't it? Anyway, it was good to see that Tequila Teddy kept his spirits up (um ... is that a pun? Editor: this is a family friendly site, so no, it isn't.).

Then Rose wrote again to wish the people in Hurricane Rita's path well. Given all she had been through, it was really nice of Rose to be worried about other people.

Hello everyone, I just want to ask you folks to send your prayers and hugs to all those in Rita's path in Texas and Louisiana this weekend. (That includes the DH who is still back in Baton Rouge.) I can't tell you how Rita is stressing me out, PTSD watching my beloved New Orleans flood again. I also received some pictures from Ole Salt that he took of our old neighborhood. I hope to share them with yall someday soon at my site.

Monday I hope to embark to LA where I hope the Red Cross will help set me up in a hotel, get some medical care and apt hunt. One day at a time...

Thank you again for your support...Love,Rose

It's good that Salt is taking pictures back in New Orleans. That must mean Salt is okay and helping to clean up the mess. He seems like a good bear.

Ooh, I just can't imagine what it would be like to have our lives turned upside down by a hurricane. The winds of change usually come a little more slowly and subtlely and less messy around here. I hope Rose finds an apartment and gets back on her feet. At least she has good bears to help her out.