3. Contributors and Special Thanks
Louis Christopher – Hidden Picture
Mario Donini - Leaving Work
Zach Garwood – Origami Shark, Bear on Wall Street
Laura Gascon – Joy Ride
Scott Hannan – Wilderness Survival (text)
Sarah Jacobsen - Cover
Melissa McCarter – Lobitia, Little Red and BBW
Robb Olson - Kizzy
Deanna Rooney – Carl Sagan
Lady Sovereign – SOV Ain’t (text)
All other images, text, ideas, were found, discovered, created, altered, ruined by Brayton
J. Cameron
Special thanks to Derek Wright, Melissa Jung, Cory Tendering, Gary Butterfield, Ben
Grigg, Kelly Johnson, Matt Schwerin, Michelle Apostol, Amy Mcmahon, John Ugolini,
Paulie Buckets, Mom and Dad, Kelsey Pierson, Evan Thorne, Jesse Thorn, Woot,
Stripgenerator, The Estate of Carl Sagan, Lando Calrissian, Bob Rohrman, Max Madsen,
Robots, The Church of the Subgenius, and most of the Empire State Building
Questions? Comments? Deardwbs@gmail.com

4. Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to pick up issue 2 of Dear Deer Wolf Bear Shark (Worlds Best
Content, World’s Worst Zine). You may already have a few questions or you may be confused by the
content you have seen so far. Below you will see some FAQ. Take solace in knowing that you are not a
lone and that this strange confusing journey is one that can be enjoyed, assuming that you’re willing to
open your mind to a world where people are animals that drive cars, engage in human acts of love,
participate in volleyball tournaments and occasionally create zines containing secret messages suggesting
that one donate massive amounts of money to a cause that openly supports overthrowing the
government and replacing it with a sock puppet named Jerry.
Q: What is a Dear Deer Wolf Bear Shark?
A: Do you like music? Have you ever listened to a band? Inside the guitars, drums, and keyboards
of that band is an animal, a tiny ambiguously shaped animal that comes out and seeks the sweet juices
located in your amygdala.
Q: What is the purpose of this zine?
A: Assuming this printed correctly you can clearly see from the first page that the zine’s purpose is
to promote the psychosexual malformation agenda of The Dark Prince Patrick of Sajak, who is in no way
related to the wheel spinning Pat Sajak. He’s actually more closely related to the Uradine Parasites, which
once ruled the core of Mars for 40,000 years.
Q: Do you make any money with this thing?
A: Tuesday is Taco Night at the Dark Princes Lodge; I must eat 7 tacos to hold my status as Keeper
of the Insacred Pins. These tacos are not free.
Q: How do I report you to the authorities?
A: You can contact me at DearDWBS@gmail.com
Q: Ok, I’m sold, how do I participate?
A: As of this moment Dear Deer Wolf Bear Shark is invite only, but in the near future the powers of
the tube driven internet will bring the message of our beloved ghost fingered mustache father to the wet
and wrinkled masses. Until then please contact me at the above address for further information.
Thank you and keep the Light of the Wild Ones inside you,
B.

6. "I was leaving work one evening when I noticed that a group of deer had
taken over the recently abandoned office park next door. The sun had just
set, but there was still enough light for me to count eleven of these
gentle creatures, all of them quietly searching for food on the once neatly
manicured lawn. It was beautiful. They were much larger than the deer on
this table."

8. Lobita
Sometimes whenthe moon is big
I think about the night moving like roaming dogs
collecting with clouds and leaves, gathering strength in packs
I move to the center of this night wondering if I am the center
and if all of these particles are trying to make me open myself up
Sometimes we dream to forget we are beasts
and to ignore the thickness of the moon
with its close depths in other places
where blood runs through the night
like a t-shirt dripping ink
Because I know this, I cannot wholly root
and stop from knowing to dream nice
I cannot domesticate myself without beating the floors in frustration,
ripping the lettuce to shreds, shooing men out of the kitchen like I am
a third-world away from this cold small moon that I could boil and eat
at the back of my throat and in the garden far inside of me
I am hungry for truth from the moon that hangs in every sky
I stay awake here, watching what is outside
because I am inside
a little wolf

11. Kizzy Finds A Home
I got fed up. I couldn’t stand being in that zoo another day. So I broke out of my cage.
After a surfing the net for a few minutes, I found a group called Great Lakes Bears. It
was like fate.
I checked the events calendar and found a listing for Bear Night at a place called Cell
Block. After being cooped up for all these years, I found out that there was a place
that accepted me for what I am, right in my own back yard.
I could tell I was at the right place because of the flag. All those brown and orange
stripes, and a big paw print. There was no mistaking, this was the place.
I stepped through the door, and I don’t know who was more surprised, them or me.
Humans, everywhere. Did I get the day wrong?
Anyway, after the initial shock, the bartender called out “what can I getcha, honey?”
“No honey. A beer would be just fine.” I replied, settling onto a stool.
Finally, a place that accepts you for what you are.

13. A Bear on Wall Street
By Zach Garwood
"It's hard being a bear on Wall Street," the Kodiak in a business suit laughed. The news reporter sitting across the table
from him sighed and blinked. "Because on Wall Street," the bear leaned in and explained, "a 'bear market' is bad. Get it?"
"Oh, I got it," she replied. The large brown bear sat back and guffawed again. "I'm just wondering why you keep
avoiding my question."
The bear calmed himself and asked smugly, "And what was your little question again?"
"Do you think you and the other top executives at the major Wall Street banks deserve massive bonuses on top of
already exorbitant salaries?"
"Well, in order to retain top talent …" the bear began to explain.
"After all, your bank received, and is still receiving, billions in federal bailouts just to stay afloat," she interrupted.
"These banks' continued existence are essential for a functioning economy …"
"And the reason your company is sinking in the first place is because of the irresponsible and risky business decisions of
those very top executives."
The massive bear was quickly becoming uncomfortable and struggled to get in a word, "In retrospect our investment
models seem …"
"Risky ventures that you were all too comfortable reaping the rewards of, but are now evading the penalties of.
Ventures that made you, your colleagues, and your friends millionaires but has ruined the financial futures of millions of
families across the country."
The bear scratched his chin and stared at the reporter for a few moments. She looked back at him as if to say Well,
what's your answer? He finally replied, "I seem to have forgotten your question again."
"How do you justify taking a massive salary bonus out of the pockets of the taxpaying public while your very actions
have caused the ruination of your company and the livelihoods of countless Americans?"
The bear nibbled one of his claws as he thought for several moments. Finally, he cleared his throat spoke plainly, "The
American people are a diverse and eclectic conglomeration of peoples, having no one god or owing allegiance to no
supreme power. They have no collective culture or unifying morals or dreams. They are altogether separate; disparate
and alone. The only thing everyone in America shares is an immense respect and insatiable desire for money." The
reporter tried to speak, but the bear continued, "Greed is the god here, Wall Street is his temple, and we are his prophets.
"We are in control of this country. Not We the People. Not Uncle Sam. Wall Street. And if think that the U.S.
government is bailing us out, you're mistaken. The money they're giving us was already ours. We created. We distributed
it as we saw fit. And now we require it back.
"The fact is: We own the government. The Treasury, Congress, the military, the President – all bought and paid for by
yours truly and my 'colleagues and friends.' There is no power in your government that we didn't give it. You're not ruled
by a democracy; you're ruled by a hidden aristocracy. And the quicker you and the rest of America realize that, the better
off you'll be." The bear sat back in his chair and growled a little as he straightened his tie.
The reporter sat, dumbfounded, for a few moments. Then she switched off the recorder that had been sitting on the
table, stood up, and said, "Thank you. I believe I have enough information. Thank you for your time."
The bear stood up as well. "Oh, and one more thing..."
"Yes?"
A sudden, devastating blow struck down the diminutive reporter. The bear fell to all fours on top of his prey and roared
in her frightened face. He proceeded to strike her prone body with his massive paws, shredding her clothing and ripping
her skin. He placed one paw on her chest and pressed down with all his weight until her body squirmed no more beneath
him. He batted her lifeless head one last time, stood up, adjusted his blood-soaked cuffs, and exited.

16. Candy Mountain
Jack and Diane were two American kids, growing up on the heartland
and they loved candy. Sadly, they did not have any money, being poor
American kids that spent all their money on chilidogs outside of the Tasty
Freeze. But these were not the kind of kids to just give up. You see
Jack had heard a rumor a long time ago about a magical mountain made of or
filled with or containing some sort of large amount of candy. Most of the
candy was pre-wrapped and wouldn’t need to be checked by their parents
like Halloween candy. Also, because of the thin air and cool climate on
the mountain the candy didn’t just melt, so don’t start with all that
bullshit, ok?
Anyway, Jack and Diane, the American pioneer spirit in them, left their
pink houses and set off to find this mountain, but knew it would be very
treacherous. With them they brought the following items, a cherry bomb,
paper in fire, rain on the scarecrow, and an R.O.C.K. items they were sure
they’d need on their journey. After they left their small Indiana town
they had to cross the swamp of sorrows, the great forest of individual
regrets, go through the caverns of uncomfortable silence and finally
answer the riddle of the Shark and the Deer.
The Great Shark looked them up and down and asked “IF I FIGHT
AUTHORITY, WHO WINS?” The children weren’t sure, they had faced all odds
to get there, telling their parents that they were sleeping at the other’s
house, they had defeated authority. Jack puffed up his chest ready to
answer, but Diane help up her hand. “Authority?” she asked timidly.
“Very good.” Said the shark and swam away. The Wise Deer approached them
and asked, “Does anyone really know what time it is? Does anyone really
care?” She asked them.
Jack responded, “Um, that isn’t a John Mellencamp song.”
“It isn’t?” The dear questioned.
“Nope.”
“Oh, sorry about that, well I guess you guys can just go then.”
Finally they reached Candy Mountain; it was the most amazing thing
they had ever seen. They soon took a bunch of hard candies, licked them
and made a crude wheelbarrow that they then filled with thousands of
pieces of candy. They filled their pockets, they threw a bunch over the
edge to hopefully pick up later, and they raced down the mountain and back
home with more candy than they had ever seen before in their life.
2 months later after a steady diet of candy Jack and Diane were both
diagnosed with type two juvenile diabetes.
(Sang) THEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEND!