Don't Cry For Me - I Want To Die
By: Preston the Polar Bear

Hey there everybody, Preston the Polar Bear here. Just wanted to drop you all a line in response to the outpouring of concern I've received lately to tell you, well, to just drop it already. Not to sound unappreciative, but although it is true that global warming has melted a lot of the sea ice my kind needs to feed ouselves and make new babies, reducing the world's population of polar bears to 20,000, I consider those who've perished or were never born the lucky ones, because I have no greater wish than to drop dead myself.

You see, despite what you might believe, it's no fun being a polar bear. In fact, it stinks. Everyday I eat pretty much the same crap - seals, seals and more seals unless a walrus or whale happens to kick the bucket and I get a free ticket for a blubber buffet. Whoopee. No chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy or tacos for me. I don't even get tartar sauce. I don't know who's in the running to become the next American Idol because I don't own a TV, and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to vote for who I like best because I don't have a cell phone, a push button landline, or even one of those old fashioned rotary things. I'm bored to tears in the middle of nowhere, and regardless of the warming, it's still freaking freezing here.

What gets me down most however is the realization that I can't accept Jesus as my personal savior or get into heaven. I don't blame Jesus for shunning me though, because I have no soul, and what kind of heaven would be populated by thousands of soulless, ravenous polar bears stalking around, tearing the nice people open from chin to crotch and feasting on their entrails? Because that's what I'd do. I couldn't help it. It's in my nature. I'm a jerky, stupid bear deservedly doomed to wander a semi-frozen barren landscape, eating and pooping to sustain a worthless life I'd end if I had the guts, a gun, and the opposable digits to use it.

So thanks but no thanks for all the sympathy and entreaties made on my behalf to your public servants, but there's no point of me going on, so stop bothering. I've really had it.

Whoa is me. I'm a sad, sorry sack of a bear.

This article brought to you by the American Petroleum Institute and the Christian Coalition of America