Grumbles the Polar Bear knocked on the door last night (I’d told him to avoid ringing the bell, after that nastiness in February when the Secret Service visited). He’d suffered a particularly harsh winter at the North Pole, with no electricity and little to eat (except Bias Jones) and that brief, disruptive vacation in D.C. when the loony climate-change protesters decried the end of civilization while a foot of snow fell on their heads…and he’d felt compelled to eat as many of their unwashed sycophant hides as possible. He needed warmth, hospitality, and a kind, conservative family to give him...