It’s OK to tounge-kiss the purdy bear.

The purdy bear just wants tax cuts...and school vouchers.

I mean, he’d never eat me or nuthin’.

Not Mah Bear Buddy!

I’m going to go see this flick, even though I understand it’s something called a “documentary” and as such lacks even a hint of Lucy Liuability and Rosario Dawsonness.

That's the downside.

On the upside, it appears to provide a really creepy and penetrating insight into people who actually coax primal danger into bed with them, put a cute hat on it, poke it with a stick, and pretend that everything is Just Disney Dandy!

Here's a bit of an online review. See if it sounds...familiar.

Grizzly Man

A Film Review by James Berardinelli

2005 has been an uncommonly a good year for documentaries, and Grizzly Man, the latest from acclaimed German director Werner Herzog, does nothing to weaken the field. Grizzly Man is actually three movies in one: a wildlife film about how grizzly bears behave in their natural habitat, a character study of an eccentric environmentalist, and a chilling, voyeuristic narrative of how death stalks that man.

For those who don't know who Timothy Treadwell is, let me provide an overview. Treadwell was an environmentalist who gained notoriety in the 1990s and early 2000s when his passion for grizzly bears led him to spend 13 consecutive summers (1991 through 2003) on the Alaskan peninsula living amongst them. During his last five years, Treadwell brought a video camera with him to capture images of the bears and himself in their territory. In October 2003, Treadwell and his girlfriend, Amie Huguenard, were killed by a grizzly. Their remains were discovered the next day and the bear was shot. Left behind by Treadwell was about 100 hours of footage that Herzog has sifted through to produce this fascinating motion picture.

The phrase "hoist by his own petard" applies. Indeed, there is something Shakespearean about Treadwell. Bolstered by hubris that led him to believe he could live among the bears without becoming a meal, his recklessness contributed to his death. The real tragedy is that he wasn't the only one to perish; Huguenard, who was new to Treadwell's Alaskan trips and was frightened of the bears, died with him.

Note this line that just chilled me, also snipped from the review – “He sensed that although [his death or dismemberment] could happen, it wouldn’t. Not to him. He believed only at the end." – and ask yourself if it doesn’t remind you just a litttttle bit of certain “Moderate” members of a certain political party.

A bunch of self-deluded phuquetards who almost-hysterically still refuse to square up and face the true nature of the monsters they have invited into their bed, even as those monsters rip the belly out of every single thing these self-deluded phuquetards swear they believe in.

A true Confederacy of bafflingly and insistently self-blinded Dunces that have allowed a cult to take over their Party who genuinely believe – and will tell you to your face -- that precipitating the end of the World is a part of God’s Plan. That a Great War in the Middle East that draws in all nations into a final Apocalyptic conflict is a terrific idea...and who believe that George Bush is God’s Instrument in advancing the Will of their Deathgod.

These people – these murderous, hate-maddened, homunculi Christopaths – are very clear on this point, and they occupy key positions of leadership and influence throughout the Republican Party. And yet you ask one of these Moderate Simpletons about the rather overwhelming fact that their Party is run by American Taliban, and they’ll wave that whole line of questioning away and actually tell you:

“Aww, they don’t really mean it.”

Which would be fine...except for this point also raised in the review: “The real tragedy is that he wasn't the only one to perish; Huguenard, who was new to Treadwell's Alaskan trips and was frightened of the bears, died with him.”

You wanna play naked mumbly-peg with Jack the Ripper – and give him the first five throws – fine. That’s your nitwit fuckup; and your closed-casket funeral.

But in this case your unbelievably idiotic and immoral dumbassery is taking the rest of us down with you, and it’s our children and treasure and reputation and future that are being fed, one bite at a time, into the maw of your harmless, furry friends.

Fuck that. We are a tolerant bunch, but that we're not going to tolerate

So do your Moderate Republican friends a favor: Take them to this movie.

(I am a great believe in redemptions, and the redemptive power of art. And that art is everywhere. Hell, you can even find in the tea-leaves of a simple movie review an elegant little fractal of the wider American political world.)

Tell ‘em it’s a documentary on the Bright Future of the GOP.

And take the High Road. Break the Exchequer and spring for the Big Popcorn, Milk Duds and large Cokes. Or, if you go to one of the higher-end Gilded Temple’s of Cine-Mah, pop for the pork chops and a nice cabernet.

And then, about halfway though the second reel, when he or she is starting to wonder WTF is going on, be a pal, lean over and whisper:

“Here’s a hint: You’re. Not. The. Bear.”