Judgey Bear Goes to the Movies

Why, hello young couple. Nice of you to join us. Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me, pardon me. Except you don’t say a goddamn word like this because these are social niceties that are beyond you.

Fine. Here’s what you’ve missed. First, there were about twenty minutes of trailers—you know, the ones that begin at the published start time for the movie. Then, there was the opening credit sequence, followed by about ten minutes of groundwork-laying plot development. We like her, we’re not sure about her yet, and we hate him. Good. Now you’re caught up.

Okay dude. Your body language screams that this is not your kind of movie, you are here strictly to humor your girlfriend, and you will NOT be enjoying yourself at ALL. I mean, how could you? The main characters are women, for God’s sake. What’s more, they’re not propping up a male hero, or looking hot in a bikini. (Oh wait! There’s Kate Upton in a bikini! Does that do anything f… no? NO? Okaaaaay.) Someone actually wrote and produced a movie where women are interacting with each other outside the context of men. If you even pay attention to such tripe, they’ll revoke your Man Card. And let’s not even get started on the kind of message that will send your girl, am I right?

Your intentions have been made clear. I’ll just sit here and pretend you don’t exist.

Seriously? You need to check the clock on your cell phone to verify how much time you’re wasting at this movie?

Bro, if you wanted to check Facebook, you would have been much more comfortable in your own home. I hear at home, you don’t have to wear pants. Wouldn’t it be fun not to be wearing pants? I wish you were not wearing pants, not here, not now.

Do you get that the light from your phone burns into my retinas, no matter how much I look away? There it is, plaguing my peripheral vision with blaring white light, taking me out of the very movie I paid to immerse myself in. Some bears find that kind of thing distracting. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to draw a bear’s attention to yourself.

Look. Judgey Bear has a husband, right? (They call him Mr. Bear) Do you see him here? Exactly. Because he would not like this movie. He’s across the theater, at another screen, watching things explode. I hear there aren’t even any car chases in this movie here. Perhaps you should go and join Mr. Bear at the Man Movie over there? You know, not here.

I mean, Girl. Really? This is better than seeing the movie on your own? You’re okay with the constant sighing, the shifting weight, the passive-aggressive posture and worst of all, the iPhone-of-a-thousand-suns? You’d rather put up with all that than sit in a dark theater by yourself letting a story wash over you? You can’t peel yourself away from this one for just two hours, so you can enjoy yourself in peace?

Girl, you need to get your man in check. Stare at him pointedly, grab his cell-phone hand and hold it all romantic-like, blow on his ear, blow him, something, anything to shut down that light.

No? Okay then. I’ll make him stop. First, a friendly passive aggressive stare. You know, the kind with a not-so-sweet, bear toothy smile.

What? I'm smiling...

Five minutes of this and he still doesn’t get the message; I’m still doing my best not to see that soul-rending light. Perhaps my body language isn’t clear. I’ll sit up straight. Gosh, dude, you’re pretty small. I mean, look at you down there. Shut. Your phone. DOWN.

Fuck this. Feel the might of my judgmental wrath wash over you. ROAR.

Now that I have your attention, I do believe I’m going to bite your head off (not a metaphor). Don’t worry, though. As your hand goes limp and your phone’s light blinks out, I’ll save it from crashing to the ground. Perhaps I’ll find someone who can wield the social responsibility of a smart phone—someone who can unplug long enough to watch a damned movie.

Speaking of which…

A Judgey Bear Treatise on “Dibbs”

When it snows in the woods, not much changes. When it snows in Chicago, more than a few inches, things get…uncivilized. (This, from a bear.)

First, an examination of snowy street landforms…

Primary streets are plowed, and usually have snow parking rules that allow for complete street coverage. Secondary streets, like ours, are rarely plowed. Tertiary streets, like all others in our neighborhood, are never plowed. There can be two feet of snow, but nobody will remove the snow from the street. Cars continue to drive on it, creating predictable, but no less majestic landforms. First, wagon-wheelesque ruts run down the center of the street. Between these snow valleys; an ice plateau. Traffic packs the snow down; heat from cars melts it and compacts it into a six-inch pack of ice. Between the snow valleys and a line of parked cars? Ice mountain ranges topped with smokey silt from the street. In the creation of the wheel valleys, snow is displaced, giving rise to these majestic mountain ranges.

In which Judge Bear explains to non-Chicago residents what “Dibbs” means…

Excavating your car from the snow not only involves shoveling away regular accumulation of snow and ice from around your car; it involves forging a mountain pass to the street. After the two feet of snow here last week, it took two days to dig out a Honda; five days for the Smart. Such a feat inspires a certain sense of resentment-tinged pride and ownership. Hence the birth of “dibbs.”

It’s snowy wintertime, so you don’t need that lawn chair now, right? Who even knows what milk crates are for anymore, so the one you have is pretty useless anyway, huh? And Junior can totally eat his mashed peas from a big-person chair. His high chair can now serve a higher purpose. Plop it in that spanking new, shiny, shoveled-out spot to save it for later. Sure, door locks and a car alarm don’t deter anyone from stealing your car, its radio, or even its catalytic converter. But that milk crate is sacred. No one will think of moving it to take your spot. 

The practice of “dibbs” has been accepted and mayorally condoned in Chicago since long before Judgey Bear migrated here. No one has asked, but here it is. 

Judgey Bear ruling on “dibbs”: no.

This isn’t a simple case of “Do unto others.” You have to shovel your car out the snow, regardless. You are not doing a good deed or paying it forward or reaping what you sow by shoveling that patch of street around your car. You are performing a necessary and 100% self-serving, albeit sucky, task. It’s like laundry. You just suck it up because you need to wear clothes. You just suck it up and shovel because you want your car to go vroom vroom. Guess what. It’s the same for everyone. Few are out shoveling because snow is pretty and gee, isn’t physical exertion fun. 

So you created a free spot on the street in the process of excavating your car and leaving. Why should someone else get to capitalize on all your effort, shoveling out in the cold? Except, (caution: logic bomb) everyone has to shovel to get their car out, thereby creating other free spots on the street. If, when you get home, someone has taken the spot you cleared (not “your” spot), find one of the other spots someone else has cleared. Just as you always do on a public street. If you want a private parking space, make like your neighbors with a spot in a garage or on a parking pad, and pay for one. Otherwise, we’re all in this together, suckers.