Bear v. Shark

by Chris Bachelder

  Could you elaborate, Tom?

  Sure, Mindy. In essence, some believe the Bear v. Shark question to be a very old one. Recently, a medievalist at Columbia produced a fragment of a text that he believes was written by a little-known French philosopher and theologian in the eleventh century. The author of the fragment is essentially scoffing at the intense debate generated over a question that is, he believes, a “no-brainer,” to use the modern parleyvoo. Mindy, it appears this little French monk was quite the bear man!

  (Mindy laughs. Her bone structure is exquisite. Her ex-boyfriend Nate lost big money on Bear v. Shark I.)

  The text in translation reads, “And yet why is this a matter that must perplex us all so? The bear is angry and really strong. . . . The shark has enough teeth certainly for a single mouth, but in its fins we see frailty and, in essence, a smallness of spirit.”

  So, Tom, the question goes back at least to the Mid-Evil period.

  Well, Mindy, there has been some doubt about the authenticity of the fragment. In fact, at the recent annual conference of a prominent scholarly organization, one speaker went so far as to publicly denounce the fragment as a hoax, which stirred up a bit of a fracas in the ivory tower. Mindy, according to one report, a retired Aquinas expert was inadvertently gouged in the eyeball during the scuffle.

  That’s interesting, Tom. Any other ideas about where this whole craze may have started?

  As a matter of fact, Mindy, others have argued that Bear v. Shark is older yet, that it is, in essence, of ancient Eastern origin. Some would have it that Bear v. Shark is essentially a variation on a Buddhist koan, or a paradoxical riddle presented to Zen students to help them break free of reason and, in essence, achieve enlightenment.

  Kind of like a brainteaser, Tom?

  Essentially, yes. But while there is undoubtedly a beguiling, meditative, even spiritual quality to the question, there is also scant evidence that Bear v. Shark is Zen.

  Well, then, Tom, what about Darwin’s famous quip?

  Mindy, experts can find no evidence to support the widely circulated story that Darwin once remarked to Huxley, “If the indolent and bumbling bear but put yet a scratch on the awful shark, I will verily eat my hat.” In essence, the story appears to be made up.

  So where does that leave us, Tom?

  Well, folks who study the matter are essentially in agreement that the Bear v. Shark problem as it is now generally stated — “Who would win in a fight between a bear and a shark?” — is not ancient or medieval or even Victorian, but in fact dates back, in essence, no more than eight or ten years.

  Is that right?

  Ever since an enterprising young man named Elton Thigpen patented the Bear v. Shark question five years ago and then sold it to HardCorp for $11 million, no fewer than 250 people have come forward to claim that they were, in essence, the ones to invent the modern-day koan. Of these, some seventy-five have brought lawsuits.

  Against Mr. Thigpen?

  Essentially, yes, and also against HardCorp and each other.

  I see. When will the madness end, Tom?

  Well, Mindy, certainly not before the showdown on August eighteenth, when, as they say, the land will meet the sea in Las Vegas.

  And is there any talk of a rubber match if the bear should win this time around, Tom?

  Mindy, you can never rule out a rematch.

  Thanks, Tom. Stay tuned, The Zinger’s coming up with your weekend forecast, plus we’ll catch you up to speed on that horrible passenger train disaster last night.

  21

  In the Lord

  All Things Are Possible

  The trip odometer says, “111,” and the digital clock on the Sport Utility Vehicle dashboard says, “1:12.”

  I think you see the possibilities here.

  Mr. Norman accelerates out of cruise control. He is searching for something real like when Mrs. Norman used to lick his teeth when they kissed. Was it his teeth? Was it her tongue? Was it on TV? Something got licked, something got bit. It was good and so long ago.

  Mrs. Norman says, “What are you doing?”

  Mr. Norman says, “I’m trying to get the trip odometer and the clock to match up.” He says, “I think that would be neat.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “Neat?”

  Mr. Norman says, “Pleasing.” He keeps accelerating, swerving to the shoulders to pass slower cars, oil fires, dead dogs, hoboes. He says, “Meaningful.”

  The Vibra-Dream Plus says, “Yes. Oooh, yes.”

  Mrs. Norman tenses and her posture becomes even better than it had been before, and it had been very good. She says, “Well, we could just reset the clock to match the odometer.”

  This is Mr. Norman’s life partner? Reset the clock and odometer? How does this come to be, this chasm, this gulf in sensibility? Could you even feel it if someone licked your teeth?

  Mr. Norman says, “But then we wouldn’t have earned it.”

  He jerks the wheel, pulling onto the dusty, sun-scorched median to pass a school bus with a shark painted the length of its side. The shark is wearing a purple satin robe with gold letters.

  The satin robe says, “In the Lord all things are possible.”

  On the tail of the shark, some bearrorist has spray-painted, “FLUKE.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “Earned what?”

  Mr. Norman, licking his top front teeth, says, “The meaning.”

  The trip odometer says, “112.”

  Mr. Norman says, “Hey, we did it. Look here, boys.”

  The boys (asleep) are asleep, wearing sunglasses and headphones. Matthew has a baseball hat on with triangular teeth on the bill and gill slits on the sides. That is one mean-looking cap.

  The nine-inch Television (TV) is on the floor, pointed upward. The Extreme Weather Guy, a former war correspondent, says, “This is what the fog actually sees.”

  It’s a safe bet that Matthew would have been nonchalant about his dad’s feat. It might have reminded Curtis of something else really cool and recent.

  The clock says, “1:13.”

  Mr. Norman says, “Shoot.”

  He slows down and resets the cruise control.

  Mrs. Norman says, “But you did it, honey.”

  Mr. Norman says, “They did match up there for a few seconds.”

  Another fan letter in the bottom of the Last Folksinger’s mailbag says, “If you think you were treated shabbily at BvS on Ice, just you wait.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “And you earned it, too.”

  Mr. Norman says, “Funny thing is, I still didn’t feel much of anything.”

  22

  The Old Televisions, Part III

  People used to come home from a hard day’s work and sit with bad posture in front of the Television and just flip and flip and flip. All night long, flipping past channels showing junk that they didn’t want to watch. The remote. Some people say clicker. Some say driver or wand. At my house we said phaser. And sure, I remember a time when we changed those suckers by hand. They knew they were missing something. They wanted something better. Hundreds of channels, but most of them were unsuited for a specific viewer’s quirky, eccentric individual tastes. They knew they wanted to be watching Television, but they weren’t really enjoying it. Flip, flip, flip. Then along came ESP TV, the TV that knows you — you — the one that reads your mind. From a comprehensive main menu, you program up to 38 General Topics of Personal Interest (GTPI) — racket sports, vegetable gardening, medium-soft porn, antique road shows — and ESP TV shows you what you want to see. Don’t like classic automobiles or starving African children? Well, you never have to see them again. Ever. Well, yes, and a patented sensor that senses when the viewer is bored or dissatisfied. Today’s TVs flip themselves, move on, find the ideal programming and find it fast. Those old ESP TV infomercials are classics now, the woman in the sequined bikini smashing the remote control with a sledgehammer.

  “The clicker, Roger, is a thing of the past, just like the waffle iron and the novel.”

&
nbsp; “And just like viewer dissatisfaction, Buzz!”

  23

  Ten-Second Debate

  Mr. Norman drives. Las Vegas is still far away, the topless women, the cheap buffets, the hotel lobby aquariums, the happy songs of the slots. And the Bear and the Shark, realer than life, grappling while a nation holds its breath and its lottery tickets.

  Neil Postman says, “Ignorance is always correctable. But what shall we do if we take ignorance to be knowledge?”

  Everything will be fine. In Las Vegas, everything will be made right. The Spectacle transforms, it redeems.

  Mr. Norman turns on the radio.

  An FM (frequency modulation) gangster says, “My bitch left so fast she left skid marks.”

  Mr. Norman hits the scan button.

  A trustworthy-sounding guy says, “If you’re sick and tired of the nutbag babblers on those other stations, turn your dial to Smash 94, the babble-blockin’ rocker. We don’t talk, we just play the extreme light rock that we know you want to hear.”

  Mr. Norman hits the scan button.

  An excited guy says, “Hernia Soda, for a taste so heavy, you’ll need a spotter.”

  Mr. Norman hits the scan button.

  The suspect’s neighbor says, “He seemed like just a regular guy. He kept to himself, mostly.”

  Mr. Norman hits the AM (ante meridiem) button.

  A crooner (old white guy) croons.

  Mr. Norman hits the scan button.

  A moderator says, “Welcome to Ten-Second Debate. Today’s topic: abortion. The position of opening remark has been established by coin toss. Ready, debaters? OK . . . GO!”

  A shaper of public opinion (Helen) says, “Freedom means choice, Rick.”

  A think tank member (Rick) says, “It’s a child, not a choice, Helen.”

  Helen says, “If you can’t trust me with a choice, etc., Rick.”

  Rick says, “Abortion, Helen, stops a beating heart.”

  Helen says, “Against abortion, Rick? Don’t have one.”

  Rick says, “Helen, ever seen one of those little fetuses they suck out of there?”

  The moderator rings a bell and says, “OK, there you have it. Our thanks to Rick Higgins and Helen Glass.”

  Helen says, “Rick, keep your laws off my body.”

  Mr. Norman can’t quite figure out how he feels about abortion. There are so many different points of view.

  Rick says, “Shut up, Helen.”

  Mr. Norman scans until he lands on Bear v. Shark: Talk Radio.

  “Oh, I like this,” Mrs. Norman says. “It’s always so interesting.”

  Mr. Norman says, “It’s a forum.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “It’s the Greek ideal of participatory democracy.”

  Mr. Norman says, “Town meeting.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “Global village.”

  Mr. Norman says, “Fiber optics.”

  In the backseat, Curtis, the younger boy, a nice enough kid, shifts in his sleep and says, “Virtual summit.”

  24

  Bear v. Shark: Talk Radio

  The energetic, deep-voiced host of Bear v. Shark: Talk Radio says, “We’re back and we have with us Dr. Sara Meredith, a professor of animal violence and habits, and the author of the controversial book The Fin Factor. Thanks for being here, Dr. Meredith.”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Thank you for having me, Wild Simon.”

  Wild Simon says, “Time for our next caller. This is Wayne in Roanoke, Virginia. Thanks for calling, Wayne. What’s your question for Dr. Meredith?”

  Wayne says, “I love your show, man.”

  Wild Simon says, “Thanks, Wayne.”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Hi, Wayne.”

  Wayne says, “Hi.”

  Wild Simon says, “Your question, Wayne?”

  Wayne says, “I don’t really have a question. I just wanted to say the shark is gonna kick ass.”

  Wild Simon says, “OK, thanks, Wayne.”

  Matthew says, “Which is what I’ve been saying for how long now?”

  Wild Simon says, “Well, Dr. Meredith, isn’t that pretty much what you’re arguing in The Fin Factor?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “In a small nutshell, yes.”

  Wild Simon says, “Because of the fins?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “What?”

  Wild Simon says, “The shark will win because of the fins?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Yes. It’s my thinking that entirely too much attention has been paid to the teeth.”

  Mrs. Norman visualizes her spine as a tree trunk, like they say to.

  Wild Simon says, “There are many rows and they are very sharp. When one falls out, two more grow back. They cut right through bone and metal.”

  Dr. Meredith sighs. She says, “Right.”

  Wild Simon says, “Doesn’t ‘fin’ mean something in French?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Yes.”

  Wild Simon says, “What do you make of that?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “I haven’t really thought much about it.”

  Wild Simon says, “OK, this is Tina in The Bronx. You’re on, Tina.”

  Tina says, “Our English word berserk comes from the ancient Scandinavian belief that if a warrior put on a bearskin shirt, called a bear-sark, that had been covered in oils and herbs, he would take on the power of the bear. It is said that these Viking warriors became frenzied and could literally eat through their enemy’s armor and also they could catch on fire and not really be harmed much.”

  Wild Simon says, “Tina, do you have a question for Dr. Meredith?”

  Wild Simon says, “Tina?”

  Mr. Norman feels happy. Not happy, exactly, but safe and warm and drowsy. The warm, safe lull of the voices.

  Wild Simon says, “Dr. Meredith, I heard somewhere that you’ve had death threats.”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Yes, that’s true.”

  Wild Simon says, “Well, it could be worse, people could be indifferent.”

  Dr. Meredith says, “I guess so.”

  Wild Simon says, “You know, there was this great race car driver, Richard Petty or somebody, and the fans were getting on him, you know? The race fans were booing him good, and a reporter or someone asked Petty or whoever, you know, does all that booing ever bother you? And you know what he said?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Is Richard Petty still racing?”

  Wild Simon says, “He said, ‘Hey, at least they’re making noise.’”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Noise is never bad.”

  Wild Simon says, “Are these threats from bear people?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Yes, and from some shark people who don’t think fins are all that important.”

  Wild Simon says, “It’s a crazy world out there.”

  Dr. Meredith (author of The Fin Factor) says, “Most of the people I’ve met have been lovely.”

  Wild Simon says, “Time for one more caller. This is our old friend Dale in Houston. Hi, Dale. Welcome back. What’s your question for Dr. Meredith?”

  Dale says, “Hello?”

  Wild Simon says, “You’re on, Dale. Twenty seconds left.”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Hi, Dale.”

  Curtis says, “Houston is windier than so-called Chicago.”

  Dale says, “People root for the bear because it looks like us. It has ears and arms and eyes. The whole bear faction is just ethnocentric because bears are like humans. We’re both vertebrates.”

  Dr. Meredith says, “Sharks are vertebrates, too, Dale.”

  Dale (in Houston) says, “Well, we’re both mammals.”

  Wild Simon says, “Isn’t a shark a mammal, too?”

  Dr. Meredith says, “You’re thinking of bats.”

  Dale says, “A shark’s not a mammal because it doesn’t have a pouch or hairy young.”

  Wild Simon says, “Dale, do you have a question for Dr. Meredith?”

  Dale says, “I’d like to say hi to Rusty and Bingo in Galveston.”

  Wild Simon says, “Tha
nks for calling, Dale.”

  Matthew says, “It’s like I hate Dale.”

  Dr. Meredith says, “’Bye, Dale.”

  25

  Dutch Treat

  Is Dutch elm disease technically Dutch?

  What do you mean by technically?

  Is the elm Dutch or the disease or both?

  It’s an example of what they refer to essentially as an unclear moderator.

  Like large animal clinic?

  Like dirty book publisher.

  Like small Television room?

  Like red wine glass.

  Like thick juicy steaks?

  No.

  What about Dutch uncle?

  You can’t say Dutch uncle anymore. That’s like calling somebody a dwarf. They like to be called little people.

  Dutch uncles want to be called little people?

  You can’t say Dutch courage anymore either because that’s offensive to drunk people.

  How about Dutch oven?

  That’s OK.

  Dutch door?

  Fine.

  Dutch Guiana?

  We say Suriname now.

  Dutch cheese, Dutch auction, Dutch clover, Dutchman’s breeches, Dutch Colonial?

  All OK.

  Dutch treat?

  Oh the flaming dessert.

  No you’re thinking of bananas Florentine.

  26

  The Cockfights Ain’t Pipin’

  A public service announcement (PSA) from Jasper Palace, the voice of Uncle Jaws on the Tuesday-night situational comedy The Sharkleys:

  Rise up, Jasp Palace here, and this is a big bullhorn to all the preadults out there. Hey, we all know how much funny fun bears and sharks are, right? Jam on toast, mes enfants!

  But hear me out, you teen machines, there is a flip to the up. A bear or a shark can also be a very serious and even life-threatening matter. Last year alone, sixteen people were killed — that’s sixteen corpsy corpses, my deputy dogs — dozens were injured, and hundreds more were arrested when they tried to take American-style fun and entertainment into their own felonious, no-thinkin’ hands.