Still sore about the hand-prints, when we arrived at the next bear, Poison Pie said, "So, have you got another miserable explanation prepared to describe how this wretched bear came to be imprisoned inside this picket fence?" "Well," I began, "You can trace this bear's misfortunes back to the early 70's when the gun-toting thugs of the federal government declared a strawberry embargo on the..." "Enough!" Poison Pie cried. "I meant it as a rhetorical question." "I know you did." "Then why did you persist in your rampant negativism?" "It's just the way the Good Lord made me." The Notorious G. clapped her hand to her forehead in distress. Poison Pie roared in equal dismay. "You can't use that as an excuse." I shrugged. What are you going to do? If the shoe fits...