My Russian is a little rusty, but that shouldn’t matter too much. After all, everything in Russia is rusty anyway. They launch brand new nuclear submarines that are leaking oil like a 1985 Chevy Citation. I’m pretty sure they install the rust as original equipment along with all the other features of their mechanical contrivances. Then again, they set up bleachers to watch people play chess, so I’m not about to call them dumb.
Americans have fallen into a dumb habit of calling brave people dumb. They post pictures of Darwin every time some misadventure befalls any person who’s doing anything other than cowering in mom’s basement. Who are we to judge the way Russians feel about bears? For all we know, a gigantic bear with arms like a furry Schwarzenegger holding five paring knives is like a squirrel to them. Nothing to be worried about. Maybe they’d call an exterminator if they found a bear in the attic, but other than that, it’s live and let live.
So here’s to you, bear-teasing guy. The bear got his cookies, and you got your jollies. The bear would prefer you wash your hands before you feed him, but other than that, you’re sympatico.