Bear Jokes

A horse limped into a bar.  He was a big black horse, breathing heavily and looking distressed.
Right away,The bartender asked him  “You alright, stud?”
The horse, still trying to catch his breath, snapped back at him “I’m a horse who is limping like I’m injured and breathing heavy as if I were being chased by people who want to “do what is best for me” ...by putting me out of my misery.  Hey, I may never race again, I get that, but I’m still prime breeding stock. It’s mostly just a scratch and some bruising on that leg. I don’t want to die.  Please help me.  Don’t let them find me and take me.  You gotta help me.  I don’t want to die.”   The horse broke into sobs as he finished.
The bartender put a hand on his neck and stroked his well groomed mane as he spoke to him softly and soothingly, almost whispering, “There, there, Stud.  I won’t let anyone put you out of your misery...shhhh ….shhhh.... it’s going be ok .I’ve got something for you, stud.  Just calm down.  You like sugar cubes, don’t you? Of course you do.” The bartender reached into his pocket and produced three sugar cubes.
The horse had calmed himself somewhat and upon seeing the sugar cubes, even seemed to cheer up slightly.  He ate all three sugar cubes at once, right out of the bartender’s hand.  He savored their sweetness briefly on his tongue before swallowing them.
He turned to the bartender and thanked him.
The bartender said nothing, but continued to look at the horse with an expression of compassion that seemed to convey a sincere desire to help this horse.  The horse was deeply moved by this and began to speak to the bartender again.
“I really want to thank you for...” he paused as he began to choke up, which startled him slightly.  That  never happened.  At least, not time it didn’t.  It was then his world suddenly started spinning and going black. He could feel a darkness settling down upon him like a heavy blanket.  His legs buckled, and he felt a sharp pain in his hurt leg as it bumped against the floor as his other three legs buckled.  He looked up toward the bartender, confused at what was happening, and that was when he saw the bartender’s face, now transformed to a cold unfeeling stare.
As the blackness settled around him he fell to his side, no longer able to hold his head up...he watched as the bartenders feet moved towards him. He could no longer keep his eyes open, but he could still hear the bartender as he crouched down beside him and then whispering soothingly into his ear “Shhhhhhh....shhhhhhh...you’re gonna be ok.  I won’t let anyone put you out of your misery...because I’m going to do it myself.”
Before the horse had a chance to respond or even process what had just been said to him.  The horse felt the contrast of cold steel against hot flesh on his neck, then pressure, followed by the flowing warmth of blood wear the cold blade had just been.
“That’s a suprisingly pleasant contrast,” the horse thought to himself.  He felt that heavy darkness settle over thoughts, his conciousness,...and then, nothing.
The bartender whistled nonchalantly, cheerfully even as we walked away from the dead horse on his bar floor.  His leg was pretty bad.  There really wasn’t much they could have done for it and the bartender felt good about his decision.
“it was the right thing to do for that poor horse.” he thought to himself as he grabbed his mop and bucket.  He whistled a familiar tune as he mopped up the pools of the once majestic and powerful animal’s thick red life force from up off the floor.
The Campptown ladies sing this song,
Doo-da, Doo-da
The Camptown racetrack's five miles long
Oh, de doo-da day


Goin' to run all night
Goin' to run all day
I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag
Somebody bet on the gray


Oh, the long tailed filly and the big black horse,
Doo-da, doo-da
Come to a mud hole and they all cut across,
Oh, de doo-da day


Goin' to run all night
Goin' to run all day
I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag
Somebody bet on the gray

CELEBRATION!!! Bear Sperm Kim Kardashian Pinata

In order to celebrate this blog having 5011 views...
...I think a celebration is in order.
Let's celebrate with a picture, shall we?

This picture was inspired by the girls in the picture.  They're both pretty hot, which is why I drew them myself.
Watch their video because I have something I need to say about their pinata.

They said that inside the Kim Kardashian pinata is nothing, but that is wrong, because inside the Kardashians is BEAR SPERM! Get it? Because I'm inside the Kardashians because of having sex with them.

"Hey Kardashians,
You got a bear in there.
he's in your vagina!"
              -ancient bear folklore poem, passed down through the generations

Facebooking Bears...

Sometimes you log onto someone else's Facebook and when you're a bear something like this might happen:

For the record, we've always thought we could have sex with humans, but when I saw how the whole gay issue is playing
out, I felt bad for them and I figured I would try to make a point to illustrate how silly everyone is being...and someone decided that he needed to get apolegetic about it.  He should have logged off of his Facebook account if he didn't want me making socio-cultural commentary with my time traveling and Photoshopping abilities.

Then he got all bent out of shape because of some chubby duechebag missionary...what a baby. For the record, I went on a mission because of some confusion regarding my passport during a wildlife refuge exchange program not for the stereotypical mormon bear reasons you always hear everyone talking about.

So this happened...and...Ok, I can see why some people might be upset by it, but I was on the rebound and feeling vulnerable, she was dealing with some stuff as well and things just kind of happened.  Go ahead and judge me.  I'm a bear. I don't care what you think. I have needs too, you know...also, he was crying so much the last one I was excited to share this little chapter of my history with him.

Ladies love the badge...especially girls who love to party and don't wear panties.
KIDS PSA: if your mom loves to party and never wears underwear...you need to leave because if you don't, it could end bad for you.  If you can't read, please have someone read this to you. It could save your life.
Look at Mr. I-Get-Pissed-At-Things-Posted-On-Facebook getting all upset.  Change your password, bro.  Also, that's not me calling your mom.  It's my cousin from Alaska and he said she's calling him, so get your facts straight before you start crying about bears posting stuff on your Facebook account and banging your mom.