NEW HUMOR AND SITES FROM GREG BULMASH

Today, as I walked through a parking garage, inhaling large quantities of car exhaust to prepare for the writing of my column, a guy in a trenchcoat sidled up to me and handed me a package. "You're Greg Bulmash, right?"

"Yeah, and it's nearly 80 degrees out. Why are you wearing a trenchcoat?"

He sidled a little closer. "I'm not wearing any underwear." I sidled away. "But that's not important," he continued. "Read what's in the envelope." Then he sidled away.

Tired of all the sidling, and way buzzed on carbon monoxide, I frontled home. Inside the package was a manuscript. I'd been given a sneak preview of a new book by a major political figure. I'm assuming he wanted me to share it with my audience, so here's a sample. But I must warn you, what you're about to read be may be frightening...

The three Bears were good bears. In fact they were good Americans. Times were tough for them, though. Knee-jerk liberal politicians refused to take a stand against cheap foreign imports and then tied the hands of American business with so much bureaucratic red tape and environmental regulations that the company where Papa Bear worked had shut down and moved to a foreign country, and Papa Bear was laid off.

They tried to scrape by on Papa's unemployment check, but they couldn't even afford to put meat on the table. They had to eat porridge. But they were thankful for that porridge and they were thankful to be eating it in a free nation.

Sitting down to the table, Papa Bear led them in a family prayer. He made sure they got a prayer every night at dinner, seeing as he knew Baby Bear wasn't going to get it at school. After saying Amen, they dug in. "My porridge is too hot," Papa Bear said.

"So is mine," Mama Bear said.

"So is mine," Baby Bear said.

Since they lived in an all-bear neighborhood, it was fairly safe to walk the streets at night. And, because they were good Christian bears they decided to go participate in a candlelight protest vigil at an abortion clinic while the porridge cooled.

Not minutes after they had left the house, Dreadylocks (who was an illegal immigrant) broke in. First he went to the kitchen to steal the silverware and he saw the porridge. He tasted it. Papa Bear's porridge was still too hot. Mama Bear's porridge was too cold. But Baby Bear's porridge was just "stealing the food out of our children's mouths" right.

Then Dreadylocks went upstairs to steal Mama Bear's jewelry. But being the lazy illegal immigrant he was, he decided to take a nap first. Papa Bear's bed was too hard. Mama Bear's bed was too soft. But Baby Bear's bed was just "sleeping in our children's beds" right.

When the bears got home, they saw that the house had been ransacked. "Someone's been eating my porridge," Papa Bear said as he inspected the kitchen.

"Someone's been eating my porridge too," Mama Bear said, coming into the kitchen now that it was safe.

"My porridge is all gone," Baby Bear said, "and so is all the silverware."

Carefully venturing upstairs, they checked the bedroom. "Someone's been sleeping in my bed," Papa Bear said.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed too," Mama Bear said, suppressing a shudder of excitement... that bitch.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed and he's still here," Baby Bear shouted.

Baby Bear's shout woke Dreadylocks and he jumped up, pulling out a knife to slit all their throats. But, thanks to heroic lobbying efforts by the NRA, Papa Bear was able to blow Dreadylocks' illegal immigrant head off with a legally obtained hollow-point bullet from his .45.

The cops came and collected the body, Papa sold their story to NBC as a movie of the week, and the three Bears lived happily ever after.