Poking the Bear

Firsts: Poking the Bear

There are a lot of people out there one should avoid pissing off, I must have missed that day at school, for I continue to do such things despite the knowledge it could backfire on me. I’ve done my best to call out a lot of these bears, with words and actions and after a lifetime of doing just this, there’s no way I can quit cold turkey.

Those that perceive they are the ‘All and Powerful Oz’ are the ones I look to antagonize most, wether that be a teacher, a politician or a cranky boss. Matt and I were bear pokers at a very young age, I believe we were born into the business, and now it’s tradition. I once had a bumper sticker on my car that read ‘Question Authority’, not that I needed it. I would not be doing well in Southern California right now, way too many perceived power brokers.

I began with my four day career in kindergarten when the teacher told me I needed to nap, I was four, she may have needed a nap, I needed to run and jump, chase kids and throw stuff. All the sheeple in that class took naps, and by the first weeks end I was in first grade at St. John the Baptist. Like any first grader there, I was intimidated by the nuns, they wore odd black uniforms, spoke with a brogue and carried a yard long stick. I was hit with that stick numerous times, the claws of the bear. Dads belt was worse, so I poked away. Unfortunately these bears used phones and called dad, double whooping days, not my favorite.

Finding the proper route in and out of the bear cave is treacherous and stealthy business, but I slowly learned. By the time I was in fifth grade I was poking older bears and bigger bears at school, some left slight scars, but I kept poking them anyway, (those of course were the beginning of my anabolic steroid days, so I was quite ambitious) for I dabbled in bear wrestling as well. Once you’ve been clawed a few times and lived through it, the act becomes both daring and fun.

By seventh grade I poked the biggest baddest of all bears, a nun who happened to be the principal, Sister Delores, those were interesting days. For poking her one day I got a five day suspension, but both parents worked, so I laid around the backyard and swam most of the day. I think a few friends actually started poking that particular bear as well, but they weren’t quick enough to dodge those razor sharp claws she threw like daggers. That made me realize bear poking can be advantageous and I jumped at opportunities.

In high school I still poked teachers and started in on the Dean of Students, he was quicker than I had originally gave him credit for, but I had weaponized my sharp tongue and although he temporarily caged me, I always escaped and went back for more. Some people will say I never learned, but in reality I’d now found numerous paths to and from the bear cave.

My latest bear was a grumpy, bullying, berating beast that managed the local Walmart. He ran roughshod over his employee’s and tried the same crap with me. I poked that fat fuck constantly, he was a mean bear, but not all that bright. He failed to realize he may have been king of that particular castle, but I was cold and calculating and had spent my youth planning for scenarios like this.

Like any other bear, he too had a mommy bear, that wielded a much deadlier set of claws and teeth, and I found that weak spot of his, and poked it so often, when he saw me coming he would run for cover. I believe Animal Control finally caught up to him for he is no longer at that store. They must have relocated Mr. Grumpy Bear!

Now I don’t recommend this to anyone that isn’t willing to get a few battle scars, but for me I’m always looking to right a wrong. And don’t believe that bullshit we heard as kids, “the bigger they are .....” because bigger does hit harder and they are harder to put in the ground. The question remains, “will I do it again?”

In a New York minute, which apparently trumps an Idaho minute. I am a bit careful on the bears I pick, but it’s been bred in me to never back down from a challenge, and everyday God puts challenges in our path, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Crack Egg Out