Episode something or other.
It’s a wonder to me why human beings waste precious resources saving endangered species. People (read: vaginas) like to talk a lot about the atrocities caused by human imperialism and ethnic cleansings, inflicted by and upon other humans. What these pussies don’t understand is that they’re complete hypocrites. Humans are basically the white imperialist assholes of the animal kingdom, and practically every modern civilization is as guilty as the next. We are all assholes . . . on a planetary level. Literally the biggest assholes on the planet, and as far as we know, possibly even the universe. The fact that we haven't been steamrolled, subjugated, and had our planet turned into a strip mall by aliens, is probably good evidence of that. We're huge douchebags. It’s practically our job. Not only that, but any attempt we make to show our “humanity” (which generally comes after the genocide) tends to just add insult to injury. Case-in-point: Native Americans. Here you have a bunch of people that basically acted like animals. I don’t mean that in a condescending way. I mean that they were able to co-exist in small communities that could exist in a balanced relationship with nature. This is significantly deviant behavior when compared to the rest of the world, who at the time were mostly busy figuring out new and improved ways to grab nature by its supple flank and put one in its pooper. Regardless, as soon as other humans arrived here, they almost understandably thought: “By God. Look at these animals!” and the ethnic cleansing proceeded smoothly from there. This is because animals aren’t people; and things that aren’t people, we don’t really give a shit about. And so sometime after we had gotten basically everything we wanted, like some kind of sick rapist stroking his shivering victim, we decided to try and placate them. Like the good humanitarians we are, we corralled them into special living camps, where they would be allowed to “preserve their unique culture,” as well as drink themselves to death.
But I’m getting away from the point here. This article isn’t about Native Americans. This article is about pandas. Pandas are fucking stupid. This is made apparent when you understand that pandas, as a species, only want to make furry panda nookie two to three days out of the entire year. At a very base level this is puzzling to us. In fact, as a creature who would like to be having sex two to three times a day, the simple idea is impossible to comprehend. It isn’t the panda’s “fault,” of course, that they act like this. It’s nature. And nature, as per usual, has culled the fields of the panda race.
You can see this rather easily when you compare the success of human beings to the success of panda bears: Human beings eat everything. Pandas eat barely-nutritious plant stalks. Human beings make cities. The entire fucking panda population, the nation of Pandapopolis, if you will, has pretty much been corralled into a human zoo… for their benefit. Therein, they are warm and safe from all the natural hazards that would undoubtedly claim such an unhealthy, vegan pussy of a fanged mammal. It is no wonder that vegan, communist hippies around the world seem to have some obsession with saving panda bears. No doubt they see some mirror of themselves within those awkward, smelly, worthless stoners of the animal kingdom. So they do things like show them porn http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7250657.stm while keeping them in their unnatural captivity, all for the completely futile goal of repopulating the species.
Pandas are no more or less saveable than any species or civilization we happen to have sodomized, or are in the process of sodomizing. That is to say, they are absolutely unsaveable. Even so, we waste buckets and buckets of money and human blood, sweat and tears on what is essentially the animal-species-version of Terry Schiavo. Schiavo was as alive as a fucking Christmas tree. She wasn’t coming back. Neither will pandas. Instead of building them a little Panda Garden of Eden and trying to play God with them, why not let nature take its goddamn course and discontinue this outdated franchise? Species die. It’s part of natural selection. And so this is the chief objection any pragmatic human being should have against panda bears, Terry Schiavo, and communist hippies: they think everybody deserves to get the same shit. Well, I tell you what. Pandas didn’t get our shit. They will never have our shit, and they will die, long before us, without our shit. Why? Tough shit, that’s why. It’s a mammal who doesn’t want to screw. They might as well have made a fish that only swims three days of the year. It isn’t our fault but that’s how it goes, they’re straight fucked.
Admittedly, part of this frustration is really out of envy. I can only imagine in my wildest dreams being locked in some grassy cage by bizarre creatures, only to be told that “you are the last of your kind. We have the last of your women. You. Must. Bone.” Is this a dream, I’d say? For me it is. A boy has the right to dream. But for pandas, those assholes, this is their reality. They have been placed into, by creatures of far greater power and import than them, a badly written porno. If only their caretakers had the insight to create these situations for all of themselves, they would perhaps have found the secret to happiness by now. This is the layout of the average porno:
Sex, talk, plot movement, sex, talk, plot movement, sex, talk, dramatic climax, conflict resolution, sex. Roll credits.
What on heaven and earth I would give to have my life be so cheaply written. I doubt any man would disagree. However, as it stands, an average day in my life looks vaguely like:
Talk, eat, talk, talk, talk, eat, study, stupid bullshit, vague resolution, talk, eat, masturbate.
As you can see, there is simply far too much talking and eating, far too little sex, and just enough bullshit to make me waste a whole tube of chap-stick to my ass lips every day. And you expect me to pity pandas? Fuck pandas. We tried, we really did, but fuck’em now. It’s too late. The pandas and all of their panda gods are going to die, and this world will keep turning, and people will undoubtedly find something else to be pussies about.
And, of course… the slaughter will continue. Might is right. That’s the first law of our blessed mother nature, after all. Commie-vegan-environmentalist blowhards will always be in hypocritical denial of this very simply truth.
But I’m getting away from the point here. This article isn’t about Native Americans. This article is about pandas. Pandas are fucking stupid. This is made apparent when you understand that pandas, as a species, only want to make furry panda nookie two to three days out of the entire year. At a very base level this is puzzling to us. In fact, as a creature who would like to be having sex two to three times a day, the simple idea is impossible to comprehend. It isn’t the panda’s “fault,” of course, that they act like this. It’s nature. And nature, as per usual, has culled the fields of the panda race.
You can see this rather easily when you compare the success of human beings to the success of panda bears: Human beings eat everything. Pandas eat barely-nutritious plant stalks. Human beings make cities. The entire fucking panda population, the nation of Pandapopolis, if you will, has pretty much been corralled into a human zoo… for their benefit. Therein, they are warm and safe from all the natural hazards that would undoubtedly claim such an unhealthy, vegan pussy of a fanged mammal. It is no wonder that vegan, communist hippies around the world seem to have some obsession with saving panda bears. No doubt they see some mirror of themselves within those awkward, smelly, worthless stoners of the animal kingdom. So they do things like show them porn http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7250657.stm while keeping them in their unnatural captivity, all for the completely futile goal of repopulating the species.
Pandas are no more or less saveable than any species or civilization we happen to have sodomized, or are in the process of sodomizing. That is to say, they are absolutely unsaveable. Even so, we waste buckets and buckets of money and human blood, sweat and tears on what is essentially the animal-species-version of Terry Schiavo. Schiavo was as alive as a fucking Christmas tree. She wasn’t coming back. Neither will pandas. Instead of building them a little Panda Garden of Eden and trying to play God with them, why not let nature take its goddamn course and discontinue this outdated franchise? Species die. It’s part of natural selection. And so this is the chief objection any pragmatic human being should have against panda bears, Terry Schiavo, and communist hippies: they think everybody deserves to get the same shit. Well, I tell you what. Pandas didn’t get our shit. They will never have our shit, and they will die, long before us, without our shit. Why? Tough shit, that’s why. It’s a mammal who doesn’t want to screw. They might as well have made a fish that only swims three days of the year. It isn’t our fault but that’s how it goes, they’re straight fucked.
Admittedly, part of this frustration is really out of envy. I can only imagine in my wildest dreams being locked in some grassy cage by bizarre creatures, only to be told that “you are the last of your kind. We have the last of your women. You. Must. Bone.” Is this a dream, I’d say? For me it is. A boy has the right to dream. But for pandas, those assholes, this is their reality. They have been placed into, by creatures of far greater power and import than them, a badly written porno. If only their caretakers had the insight to create these situations for all of themselves, they would perhaps have found the secret to happiness by now. This is the layout of the average porno:
Sex, talk, plot movement, sex, talk, plot movement, sex, talk, dramatic climax, conflict resolution, sex. Roll credits.
What on heaven and earth I would give to have my life be so cheaply written. I doubt any man would disagree. However, as it stands, an average day in my life looks vaguely like:
Talk, eat, talk, talk, talk, eat, study, stupid bullshit, vague resolution, talk, eat, masturbate.
As you can see, there is simply far too much talking and eating, far too little sex, and just enough bullshit to make me waste a whole tube of chap-stick to my ass lips every day. And you expect me to pity pandas? Fuck pandas. We tried, we really did, but fuck’em now. It’s too late. The pandas and all of their panda gods are going to die, and this world will keep turning, and people will undoubtedly find something else to be pussies about.
And, of course… the slaughter will continue. Might is right. That’s the first law of our blessed mother nature, after all. Commie-vegan-environmentalist blowhards will always be in hypocritical denial of this very simply truth.