These huge bastards inexorably and vigilantly patrol the Arctic Circle, like great albino Arnold Schwarzeneggers with a penchant for excessive body hair and crouching amidst the mansack-freezing snow for a shit (even in the most fetid, unwholesome corners of the internet, we have not beheld the Governator dropping his pants and logging on yet. Not that we’re authorities on the matter, checking for such every day or anything. That’s an outlandish accusation!).
The Polar Bear is 1,500 pounds and almost ten feet of furry fury, a veritable impending ballistic missile of immense strength, claw-iness and probable ghastly hallitosis. It is inherently capable of kicking an innocuous moron seal’s face into the stratosphere with a leisurely flex of a shit-stained hindleg. They remain this behemoth’s favored prey to indulge in; other choice gastronomic delights include walrus, whales and goddamn Rambo himself, were he to encroach upon the North Pole for some unfathomable reason (which, our drunken friend Hobo Joe maintained prior to pissing himself again, is the provisional plot of the upcoming Rambo IX: This Time, I’m Getting Too Shittin’ Old For These Shenanigans. My Face is as Wrinkled As a Pensioner’s Scrotum).
Incidentally, these mothers are so formidable they could gnaw with indolent ease through the reinforced hull of a spacecraft, in a manner akin to the Xenomorph’s crotch-dissolving acid blood in Aliens. Except they can’t. Conversely, it is not facetiousness/bullshit lies that these malevolent bastards will endeavor to masculine their way through a sheet of glass to attain sweet, sweet child-face meat; as this image will attest. There was nary an unsoiled set of undergarments in the vicinity that day.
You’ve indubitably concluded that such belligerent death on legs is as mantastically terrifying as wild beasts come. We’d venture that they have been exiled to the ghastly frozen Sodom that is the North Pole so none of us poor bastards will have to encounter them (the Arctic being situated somewhere up Satan’s frozen rectum and all). Their manly credentials, nonetheless, were further bolstered by this disconcerting headline from the Huffington Post: Polar Bear Eats Cub: Cannibalism May Be On The Rise. Therein are cited an array of possibilities for the surge in such behavior; global warming mitigating access to food supplies, Al Gore’s depiction of said bears cruising morosely on a speck of ice the size of a testicle, dwindling deliveries of Coca Cola from those commercials, and suchlike.
We’d venture that these instances are instead galvanized by the horror inspired by/aversion to women with children.
“Nuts to that,” proclaimed A. Guy, in our interview. “They ain’t my kids.”
In this case, though, he’d have to amend the sentiment with a postscript:
“...so I’m going to chew on its groin, go to town on this little shit. While macabre humans flail cameras in my face, accruing a series of images akin to something you’d see in those ultra-violent Asian horror movies. Not that I’m particularly informed in such matters, I’m a Polar Bear. All I do is kill things and lick my genitals.”
In summation, you don’t want to hit on these bastards’ three-tonne albino girlfriends. Behold this one taking a dump, they can’t even shit without making a furious I KILL YOUR FACE expression. Man-points mitigated only by tales of their striding merrily through Polish streets without horribly murdering anybody, the Polar Bear is hereby awarded 8 out of 10 on the Manimals Meter.
What gets your vote for nature’s biggest badass? Let us know and we’ll feature them!