I read a news story lately that has forced me to rethink my position on bears.

Heretofore, my position on bears was that they're...um....quite Neanderthal. This isn't a conclusion I came to haphazardly--there is some well-considered logic behind it.

Take for instance the legend of what they actually do in the woods. I'm talking about shitting. That's fine if you're a guy bear--I was married to one and have been surrounded by them for my entire life. But as a woman, there are some things you just don't do. The rule is rather simple: hold it. Hold it, hold it, hold it until you get home to the privacy of your own little bathroom, the one with the candle on the back of the toilet and the exhaust fan that has the dual purpose of ventilating and drowning out certain...er...noises. And this is a rule that is not to be broken--there's just no excuse. And although I have mocked them mercilessly, I do have friends who have shit their pants in public rather than break this rule. Hats off to them. It is better for your thongs to bear the burden than to lighten your load in a public restroom. So on this matter, bears: -10 points.

And I've watched enough Winnie the Pooh to know about this honey thing. And honey, while it is good as an ingredient IN things, is disgusting as a foodstuff on its own. When I ran track, our coach would have us carry a container of honey so that we could eat it just before our meets. My stomach still turns with the very memory of this. My father would get my honey at the health food store--the dark stuff, the stuff that was supposed to be SO much better for you than the commercially-produced stuff. But you know what? It was honey. No matter what the color or the source, the unavoidable fact remained: it was honey. A squeeze of the tube directly into your mouth would form a glob in the back of your throat that would force a gag from even the strongest of upper-digestive tracts. And the sugar-rush was never justified, as there is nothing that can justify the sensation of having to swallow something that has the very same consistency of that which inhabits the back of your throat during a really bad sinus infection (and for the record, raw oysters are, obviously, exempt from this rule). So on this matter, bears: -10 points.

Oh, and I've seen those videos about safe camping, where you're supposed to hang your food out of reach, dangling from a tree, like a giant piñata for the bear who remains stickless. But what delicacies are there in the foodstuff of campers? Trail Mix? It always includes raisins. And raisins--those damn things are awful. Unless you can somehow sneak one past me in a cookie (and you'll only do it once, I warn you), those little nasties won't be finding their way to my stomach. As kids, we weren't cool. I mean, at our house, there were two boxes of cereal: Grape Nuts and Raisin Bran (unless, of course, we were able to go to the grocery store with our unsuspecting father who was much more likely to be goaded into buying us our ticket to coolness: Crunchberry Captain Crunch). But on most days, our choice was extremely limited.  Since we were partial to having and keeping sound teeth, my brother and I typically passed on the Grape Nuts. So that left Raisin Bran...filled with those friggin' TWO SCOOPS! of which the commercials strangely bragged. My brother and I felt the same way about raisins so they were that which remained at the bottom of our bowls....until Mom left the room. That was when we played a game that we, ourselves, had invented. It involved a spoon, some milk-covered raisins, and Mom's ill-tempered and rather obese cat who avoided us at all costs but who, oddly enough, had an unnatural love for milk-covered raisins. Mom could never figure out why the cat's bulging abdomen was routinely splattered with milk...or how so many raisins ended behind the couch (since spoons are not the most accurate of tools to use as launching devices--my brother was an expert raisin-launcher and even he missed sometimes). So then I wonder--why in the hell would a bear go to great lengths to get your trail mix? On this matter, bears: -10 points.

Oh--and then you've got beef jerky. Doesn't every camper carry that crap? And why? It doesn't look or feel like anything anyone should eat. Not even a self-respecting animal could find the consistency of it to be appealing. And the smell--my god--just one whiff of it and your nose hairs burn from all the friggin' chemicals and such. And before some of you start chiming in on this, I'll confess: for a variety of reasons, I gave up red meat several years ago. I'm not even tempted by beef any longer--but that bacon, evil seductress that it is, is still quite alluring to me. But....beef jerky ISN'T bacon. It isn't. And if you think you can defend the "merits" of beef jerky by claiming it is only because of my own personal predilections, you're wrong. So again, beef jerky ain't bacon, case closed. It is dead-cow scented rubber and nothing else. On this matter, bears: -10 points.

And that whole salmon thing. Wandering out into the cold, swiftly moving waters to pluck an unsuspecting salmon from the depths as it heroically attempts to swim upstream to birth its illegitimate children like a knocked-up teenager who has been banished to her "aunt's house"? Helloooo!  That ain't right, I tell you. As I am sure you agree, bears really should just find something else to pick on. But. Oh....but....I went out with a guy a few years ago, a guy who was SO attractive because he forced me to try different things (insert your own naughty little daydream here). We went for sushi one night and when the salmon hit our table, my gullet started to spasm. I avoided it...and when he asked why, I explained I wasn't a fan of salmon. He said, "Well you've eaten it cooked--it is nasty when it's cooked but different when it isn't." His logic was correct--I'd only eaten it cooked--and it was divine, I tell you, DIVINE uncooked. It now ranks up there with tuna in my book. So when it comes to raw salmon, bears: +25 points.

So if you've been keeping track, it is time to check your scorecards. If yours read like mine does, the bears are still down by a few points--eating raw salmon just doesn't make up for all the other stuff. We still have one thing to consider, however. It's this news story I mentioned. About a bear. Who crawled in the back of a vintage red convertible. And dined. On a barbecue chicken and jalapeno pizza. Then washed it down with some beer, vodka and a swig of Jack Daniels mixer. Holy cow--this bear, when given the right choices, did EVERYTHING right! I mean, he didn't choose some mid-life crisis BMW to crawl into--it was the car of a real auto aficionado. And as for food, we all know that you can put jalapenos on any foodstuff and make it an epicurean delight, but when they're on an already good pizza--wowsers! And then, to follow the meal with a swig of beer (a standard with pizza) and then a drink of vodka and a swig of a Jack Daniels mixer--holy shit, Batman--this is proof that this bear knew exactly how to live the good life. Bears: +125 points.

My conclusion is therefore fairly obvious: Bears are cool. If you see one, don't insult him by tossing him your granola bar. Invite him in and offer him the hors d'oeuvre tray while you finish throwing together a nice meal. Oh--but make sure he knows where your bathroom is!