Neither Of Us Has Permission To Disparage A Grizzly Bear

You can’t disparage a grizzly bear.

Neither of us have permission for this.

You might see it tumble down a river bank, sniff its own balls or some they’ve gathered from ‘bearing’, and perhaps even go cross-eyed; but ultimately a grizzly bear has a final reality that cannot be countered.

Teeth and tonnes.

A grizzly bear will squash you with its sharp teeth and tear you both apart and a new one, with a look.

That’s why I respect bears; they have the self confidence that overcomes looking foolish.

I could watch a grizzly bear get its head stuck oh-so adorably in a honey pot, proceeding to wander and bump about until a kindly friend provided some jar-removing empathy; and all the while I’d be sporting a cold sweat and nursing a frighteningly ineffective piece of any weaponry ever made at the prospect that this creature might one day have intentions towards some honey pot of my own.

Lions don’t do that to me.

Catch a lion attempting any of the above and you’ve got a pussy cat you can mock and give a good kick up the arse.

Shooting a bear is your very best hope (seeing as this is how you can irritate it to finish you off more mercifully quickly), whereas lions have very little to say in response to a shotgun blast.

You can bop a lion on the nose and you’ve gone a significant way towards undoing its legend and usurping leadership of the pride. Two bops should do it.

Not that I’ve ever fought either; I can’t. PETA won’t allow it.

Of course, grizzly bears requiring nothing from nobody, whereas lions are such pussies that PETA has to stand up for them.

A lion at full charge can be disposed with a stern: “STOP IT. You’re embarrassing yourself.” – causing it to slink away.

Grizzly bears cannot slink. Try that same method (vary the wording if you like) with a grizzly bear and you’ll simply hear your words echo decreasingly within the animal currently digesting you.

Bop a grizzly bear on the nose and you’ll never bop again, and you’ll regret not having gotten more bopping done in your time.

Note, I will be referring to the grizzly bear as a ‘grizzly bear’, rather than as a simple ‘grizzly’ as I feel to shorten it would be overly familiar and I’d like to maintain as much formal ‘Mr’ and ‘Sir’ as I can with my host (host – because wherever you are, that’s a bear bit of place to stand and be a bear).

To make it short, shortly before continuing at length: grizzly bears are large roaming landmarks, whereas lions can simply fuck off.

When you’re selecting for your apocalyptic battle team, and you’re choosing from nature’s bounty (try not to choose lemongrass or wheat -they’re useless in a fight, of all floras you should utilise cacti and coconuts, or a suitably angry hedge), you’re going to realise that the grizzly bear is a team by itself. It’s back-half is on its front-half’s side, and its left side is predictably on its right side’s side. Its teeth work in coalition with its claws, its eyes with its mouth, its hunger with its need to take a dump a few hours hence.

A lion might leave you a carcass, but a bear will turn you and all you were into a turd in North America. This victory is total, as the bear might feel some parental satisfaction of having transformed the irrelevant you into a colossal amount of faeces; and as such become something the bear has a greater regard for compared to the living you, flailing limbs and awfully widened eyes, screaming something about a “good bopping, Mr Grizzly Bear sir”.

Lions can be dispatched with a finger up its nose.

Effective.

I also predict that a stiff kick in its balls, the kind of impact that gives testicles arthritis, would also demise a lion to pieces. If it is a female lion, then I’d kick her in her male lion’s balls and then I’d spray her with cold water whilst making a screechy noise.

Effective.

Being a cat, I imagine a lion would find acute embarrassment something it struggles with. Bears would roll with it, indeed – they would roll in it and enjoy whatever that sensation is. I once said (to quote myself – apologies) that it is hard to make a mountain look foolish.

Bears are wandering mountains that chew, shite, and impress you with what they can do with a salmon. You can’t make them look foolish, whereas a lion can look dopey as sweet hell.

And what are you going to do about it?

Lions have had movies made about them, songs dedicated to them, goodness knows how many wanky tattoos of their image, as well as those t-shirts that people wear in which lions give an ‘Far-out dude’ look on an ethereal background of stars and other such strange things to associate with an animal of which I am quite confident I could beat in a debate, an arm-wrestle, and a good-old fight to the death.

Don’t speak poorly of grizzly bears, because if there was one in the room with you right now, the walls would tumble, you’d vanish in a cloud of bloody mist, the eaves-dropping neighbours would gasp “oh my!” and all that would remain would be a thoroughly more impressive turd and the smell of satisfaction Mr grizzly bear emitted before wandering off as mountains do and forgetting about you entirely.

If there was a lion in the room with me right now; I’d ask it to leave.

And leave it would, because I might also happen to mention I have (Mr) grizzly bear associates that might be interested to meet a pretty young lion such as yourself.

In addition to this whole subject; a bear would easily dominate a gorilla, for the simple flaw that gorillas are too much like us to really get anywhere in nature without the instinct to bang things together until a (hindsight) good idea happens. Plus sex and humour.

Now, I like to take an overwhelming degree of responsibility for the human species (somewhat possessive perhaps, but it is mine) and I urge none of you be flippant with a grizzly bear. I do not give you permission, and you should presume none. I don’t have permission to disparage a grizzly gear, and I wouldn’t want such permission, as this would be invitation to turdation and the kind of improvement I don’t find overly flattering.

That being said, leave lions be too. They can’t help being a bit crap, even if they do try to show off with the regular roars and scraps and impressive hunting statistics.

I wonder how they taste.

Don’t hunt them unless they’re getting out of hand and give people a hard time.
Under no circumstances whatsoever are you allowed to attempt to hunt a grizzly bear, if only for the reason that the apocalyptic team battle circumstance might come about and you don’t want to be looking to a team of your mate Harry, an utterly unwelcome lion, your mum, and a mind-bendingly large gap where your grizzly bear talisman team mate was meant to be.

Feel free to hunt chickens as I don’t care for them, plus I’ve a feeling we should keep them in check in case an uprising should happen. I can handle a few hundred chickens coming at me all at once, but a flock of 19 billion is going to seriously affect my lawn.

I really don’t want 19 billion chickens realising they have a slight advantage over us in numbers and feathers, before finding out my address and coming to ‘get’ me. I don’t know what it’s like to be ‘gotten’ by chicken en-masse, but I can only hope it’s preferable to what we do to them.

I image it would tickle, in a manner only a grizzly bear would be able to enjoy.

Sam

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