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Bear Necessities: Furry Freeloader Crashes Cali Crawl Space for Holidays
This is your News You do not Need podcast.
So there I was, minding my own business in Altadena, California, sipping eggnog and dreaming of a quiet New Year's Eve, when my holiday houseguest decided to overstay his welcome—by about a month. Picture this: a 550-pound black bear, folks, the size of a furry refrigerator with claws, squeezes his chonky self through a tiny window into my crawl space under the house. I mean, who needs Netflix when you've got a real-life Goldilocks reject auditioning for "Squatter Wars"?
It started right before Thanksgiving. I'm Ken Johnson, your reluctant host in this ursine Airbnb nightmare. One night, I hear scratching—like someone's installing drywall with their toenails—right beneath my bedroom floor. I grab my phone, check the security cams, and boom: Yogi 2.0 is lumbering around down there, sniffing for snacks and probably judging my Christmas decorations. "Just passing through," I thought. Nope. This bear's got commitment issues in reverse; he's hunkered down like he owns the deed.
I call Fish and Wildlife, because who you gonna call for a bear-rito in your basement? They roll up, set up more cameras—high-tech bear paparazzi—and try luring him out with... I don't know, bear Tinder? Honey pots? Nah, they rigged barking dog sounds piped through speakers. I'm banging on the floor, yelling, "Come on, go!" like it's a bad eviction notice. The bear? He yawns on camera, stretches, and settles in deeper. Unfazed. This dude's got thicker skin than my uncle's fruitcake.
A whole month goes by. Holidays come and go—I'm hosting family dinners upstairs while Br'er Bear's downstairs hosting his own claw-sharpening spa day. I can hear him at night, rustling insulation like it's a gourmet salad bar. Neighbors are like, "Ken, just move!" Yeah, right, into a bear-free zone? He's broken in, claimed territory, and now he's the king of the crawl space castle. Wildlife says bears hibernate in winter; this one's like, "Nah, Ken's heater's cozier."
Experts call it "unbearable," ha ha, but seriously, it's peak 2025 bizarre. Who needs to know about rogue football stars or Kennedy tragedies when California's got bears playing musical houses? Moral of the story? Next year, I'm hanging a "No Vacancy—Bears Only Pay in Honey" sign. If this bear doesn't leave by midnight, we're ringing in 2026 with bear karaoke. Stay tuned, folks—or don't. You probably don't need this in your life either.
For more http://www.quietplease.ai
Get the best deals https://amzn.to/3ODvOta
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
So there I was, minding my own business in Altadena, California, sipping eggnog and dreaming of a quiet New Year's Eve, when my holiday houseguest decided to overstay his welcome—by about a month. Picture this: a 550-pound black bear, folks, the size of a furry refrigerator with claws, squeezes his chonky self through a tiny window into my crawl space under the house. I mean, who needs Netflix when you've got a real-life Goldilocks reject auditioning for "Squatter Wars"?
It started right before Thanksgiving. I'm Ken Johnson, your reluctant host in this ursine Airbnb nightmare. One night, I hear scratching—like someone's installing drywall with their toenails—right beneath my bedroom floor. I grab my phone, check the security cams, and boom: Yogi 2.0 is lumbering around down there, sniffing for snacks and probably judging my Christmas decorations. "Just passing through," I thought. Nope. This bear's got commitment issues in reverse; he's hunkered down like he owns the deed.
I call Fish and Wildlife, because who you gonna call for a bear-rito in your basement? They roll up, set up more cameras—high-tech bear paparazzi—and try luring him out with... I don't know, bear Tinder? Honey pots? Nah, they rigged barking dog sounds piped through speakers. I'm banging on the floor, yelling, "Come on, go!" like it's a bad eviction notice. The bear? He yawns on camera, stretches, and settles in deeper. Unfazed. This dude's got thicker skin than my uncle's fruitcake.
A whole month goes by. Holidays come and go—I'm hosting family dinners upstairs while Br'er Bear's downstairs hosting his own claw-sharpening spa day. I can hear him at night, rustling insulation like it's a gourmet salad bar. Neighbors are like, "Ken, just move!" Yeah, right, into a bear-free zone? He's broken in, claimed territory, and now he's the king of the crawl space castle. Wildlife says bears hibernate in winter; this one's like, "Nah, Ken's heater's cozier."
Experts call it "unbearable," ha ha, but seriously, it's peak 2025 bizarre. Who needs to know about rogue football stars or Kennedy tragedies when California's got bears playing musical houses? Moral of the story? Next year, I'm hanging a "No Vacancy—Bears Only Pay in Honey" sign. If this bear doesn't leave by midnight, we're ringing in 2026 with bear karaoke. Stay tuned, folks—or don't. You probably don't need this in your life either.
For more http://www.quietplease.ai
Get the best deals https://amzn.to/3ODvOta
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
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By Inception Point AiThis is your News You do not Need podcast.
So there I was, minding my own business in Altadena, California, sipping eggnog and dreaming of a quiet New Year's Eve, when my holiday houseguest decided to overstay his welcome—by about a month. Picture this: a 550-pound black bear, folks, the size of a furry refrigerator with claws, squeezes his chonky self through a tiny window into my crawl space under the house. I mean, who needs Netflix when you've got a real-life Goldilocks reject auditioning for "Squatter Wars"?
It started right before Thanksgiving. I'm Ken Johnson, your reluctant host in this ursine Airbnb nightmare. One night, I hear scratching—like someone's installing drywall with their toenails—right beneath my bedroom floor. I grab my phone, check the security cams, and boom: Yogi 2.0 is lumbering around down there, sniffing for snacks and probably judging my Christmas decorations. "Just passing through," I thought. Nope. This bear's got commitment issues in reverse; he's hunkered down like he owns the deed.
I call Fish and Wildlife, because who you gonna call for a bear-rito in your basement? They roll up, set up more cameras—high-tech bear paparazzi—and try luring him out with... I don't know, bear Tinder? Honey pots? Nah, they rigged barking dog sounds piped through speakers. I'm banging on the floor, yelling, "Come on, go!" like it's a bad eviction notice. The bear? He yawns on camera, stretches, and settles in deeper. Unfazed. This dude's got thicker skin than my uncle's fruitcake.
A whole month goes by. Holidays come and go—I'm hosting family dinners upstairs while Br'er Bear's downstairs hosting his own claw-sharpening spa day. I can hear him at night, rustling insulation like it's a gourmet salad bar. Neighbors are like, "Ken, just move!" Yeah, right, into a bear-free zone? He's broken in, claimed territory, and now he's the king of the crawl space castle. Wildlife says bears hibernate in winter; this one's like, "Nah, Ken's heater's cozier."
Experts call it "unbearable," ha ha, but seriously, it's peak 2025 bizarre. Who needs to know about rogue football stars or Kennedy tragedies when California's got bears playing musical houses? Moral of the story? Next year, I'm hanging a "No Vacancy—Bears Only Pay in Honey" sign. If this bear doesn't leave by midnight, we're ringing in 2026 with bear karaoke. Stay tuned, folks—or don't. You probably don't need this in your life either.
For more http://www.quietplease.ai
Get the best deals https://amzn.to/3ODvOta
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
So there I was, minding my own business in Altadena, California, sipping eggnog and dreaming of a quiet New Year's Eve, when my holiday houseguest decided to overstay his welcome—by about a month. Picture this: a 550-pound black bear, folks, the size of a furry refrigerator with claws, squeezes his chonky self through a tiny window into my crawl space under the house. I mean, who needs Netflix when you've got a real-life Goldilocks reject auditioning for "Squatter Wars"?
It started right before Thanksgiving. I'm Ken Johnson, your reluctant host in this ursine Airbnb nightmare. One night, I hear scratching—like someone's installing drywall with their toenails—right beneath my bedroom floor. I grab my phone, check the security cams, and boom: Yogi 2.0 is lumbering around down there, sniffing for snacks and probably judging my Christmas decorations. "Just passing through," I thought. Nope. This bear's got commitment issues in reverse; he's hunkered down like he owns the deed.
I call Fish and Wildlife, because who you gonna call for a bear-rito in your basement? They roll up, set up more cameras—high-tech bear paparazzi—and try luring him out with... I don't know, bear Tinder? Honey pots? Nah, they rigged barking dog sounds piped through speakers. I'm banging on the floor, yelling, "Come on, go!" like it's a bad eviction notice. The bear? He yawns on camera, stretches, and settles in deeper. Unfazed. This dude's got thicker skin than my uncle's fruitcake.
A whole month goes by. Holidays come and go—I'm hosting family dinners upstairs while Br'er Bear's downstairs hosting his own claw-sharpening spa day. I can hear him at night, rustling insulation like it's a gourmet salad bar. Neighbors are like, "Ken, just move!" Yeah, right, into a bear-free zone? He's broken in, claimed territory, and now he's the king of the crawl space castle. Wildlife says bears hibernate in winter; this one's like, "Nah, Ken's heater's cozier."
Experts call it "unbearable," ha ha, but seriously, it's peak 2025 bizarre. Who needs to know about rogue football stars or Kennedy tragedies when California's got bears playing musical houses? Moral of the story? Next year, I'm hanging a "No Vacancy—Bears Only Pay in Honey" sign. If this bear doesn't leave by midnight, we're ringing in 2026 with bear karaoke. Stay tuned, folks—or don't. You probably don't need this in your life either.
For more http://www.quietplease.ai
Get the best deals https://amzn.to/3ODvOta
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI