Mumford and Sons…not fans of alternative proteins…

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Before I say anything that can, in any way, be construed as a criticism, I want to go on the record as saying that last night’s Mumford and Sons concert was completely amazeballs.  Seriously, if you haven’t seen them live…do whatever you have to do to get the tickets.  They might not be worth turning tricks for, but they’re REALLY CLOSE…  No, I’m lying, it’s totally worth at least three handies, but like…high class ones…not street handies.

Anyhoooo…

While I was there, trying to buy water for roughly the cost of a black market kidney, I noticed this on the vendor’s cart.

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Now, I have no idea what the band’s beef is with peanuts (Smart bet would be a REALLY severe allergy, but you know I’m going to wind up Googling this, because if the internet is going to give me the ability to look weird shit up, I’m going to take it and run with it.), but I don’t know that ever, once, in my many, many (*cough*) years of life, that I’ve ever been ACTUALLY inconvenienced by a lack of ability to buy peanuts.

“What!?  No peanuts!  Fuck that, guys, we’re LEAVING!  Refund!”

In addition to the peanuts, they also wouldn’t let me have the top of my $57 water bottle, and when I asked if that was venue policy, she rolled her eyes, and said, “It’s the band’s direction.”  Now, I’m SURE there is a good reason (which shall ALSO be googled, damn it), but it sort of amuses me that other bands are snorting cocaine off hooker’s asses (don’t judge…the hookers were only trying to score Mumford tickets), and my band of choice won’t even tolerate bottle caps and legumes…

Okay, in closing…also check out Michael Kiwanuka, who opened for them, and who is so ridiculously talented, that I can’t even stand it.  Seriously bluesy fantasticness…

**Update**  Yes, one of the band members has almost been offed because of a peanut allergy.  How about we just don’t eat peanuts at concerts at all?  Let’s serve something that stoned people can break into easier than a shelled nut.  Almost nobody gets killed by Funyuns, just sayin’.

An argument in favor of extinction.

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Before I delve right in here, I’d like to start by clarifying that I love animals…like LOVE them.  I will totally kiss a strange dog on the mouth, and I won’t even share a glass of water with my own children.  I love them so much, that if I hear the first two chords of any Sarah McLachlan song, I immediately call the ASPCA and give them cash, and all it took was me watching this video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnYRhanK3XA on Facebook, and the next day I got this guy…

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Seriously…will you LOOK at that face?

That all having been said…I think it’s time that we discuss the RIDICULOUS lengths that humans have been going to, to keep these lazy bastards alive:

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I know, I know!  They’re Goddamned adorable and everything!  Look at those eyes, they’re like walking stuffed animals!  If I wanted an actual bear hug, from an ACTUAL bear…this is the bear I would TOTALLY choose!

However, it’s time we really just accept the fact that pandas have all signed some sort of Bear Suicide Pact, and desperately wish to go gently into that good night.  In fact, they seem to be trying so hard to end it all, that were they prisoners, we wouldn’t leave them alone with their own shoelaces.

Look, I am ALL FOR saving the environment, limiting urban sprawl, reforesting efforts, creating animal sanctuaries, criminalizing abuse, testing, and animal research; and for all of the other things that we do to try and limit the damage done by man…  But pandas are really just asking for it.

If you’ve kept up on the annals of panda husbandry for the last couple of decades, and frankly who hasn’t, you know that getting these black and white lumps to actually produce offspring is no joke.  First there are biological factors.  Female pandas only ovulate once a year, which is easily half as many times as your average 13-year-old Olympic gymnast (and a twentieth as often as any member of the Duggar family…males included).  Beyond that, if a swimmer even makes it in there on the two days a year an egg is in play, the poor offspring in question will be born the size of a stick of butter to a 220lb mother, with a penchant for rolling over in her sleep.  In fact, pandas are so casual about the survival of their own children, that while a normal panda pregnancy frequently results in twins…if left to the mother, the smaller one will die of neglect while the larger one is given just enough attention to MAYBE keep it alive.  I can personally name at least ten crackheads that I’d trust with a baby, before I’d trust a panda.

Now, here’s where it gets really damning…  That whole thing I just wrote…about the ovulation and the offspring and the pandas smoking crack…yeah, that’s all contingent on the pandas ACTUALLY having sex.  You see…they don’t even want to do that.  Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen…pandas are too lazy to even fuck, and we’re not talking about them getting it “on the regular” here…we’re talking about ONCE A YEAR.  Once a year, they are too fucking lazy to drag themselves out from under the bamboo bush they’ve been shame-eating in, so that they can get laid, and their species can live on.  Are.  You.  Fucking.  Kidding.  Me.

This is where it gets completely ridiculous…  Wonderful, caring, lovely people, who have doctorates in some science-y thing, have decided that they aren’t going to allow the pandas to commit this slow suicide.  Instead, they’re going to bring them into captivity and spend MILLIONS of dollars to track their cycles (I’ll pay them $5 to drop me an email to tell me when to expect mine…because I certainly can’t figure it out.), find them mates, and then try and CONVINCE THEM to please, please, please find it in their little bear hearts to hump each other.

In fact, it has gotten so desperate, that the zoologists have resorted to producing panda pornography, which they then show to frigid would-be breeding pairs, in an effort to try and get them in the mood.   (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/9932362/Panda-porn-shown-in-attempt-to-get-two-to-mate.html )

Folks…someone…presumably with at least one PhD, is filming pandas fucking…and showing it to other pandas.  (And you thought philosophy majors were stupid…)  Now, where they found two willing pandas to film remains a mystery, as there was no panda porn prior to that originally filmed copulation…it is a panda porn paradox for the ages, I tell you.

Assuming that they can actually cajole two apathetic bears into watching a television, you know that the bears just have to be as confused as hell.

Bear A: “Who the hell are these perverts, and why are they showing us porn?”

Bear B: “I know!  Wasn’t there a very special episode of Diff’rent Strokes that started out this way, with a pedophile who owned a bike shop?”

Bear A: “I don’t know, but if he offers us some wine and tries to get us in a shower…I’m so out of here.”

In the end, millions spent, countless man hours logged, advanced degrees questionably used, other species (who are FAR more willing to screw, by the way) ignored, and film sullied…you do get one of these:

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And, yes, it’s cute…but in 6 years…you’ll be showing it the same (now) vintage panda porn, you showed his parents (or worse, new panda porn OF his parents), in an effort to get him minimally interested in seducing his third cousin, and the cycle can begin yet again.

Seriously…Children’s Publishing…you either need to hire me, or we need to go get a beer, because you’re just filthy enough to be fantastic company.

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All of the following have been found in the last week, in the 2nd grade reading level area…

First we have the subtle…

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Then, the not so subtle…
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And, finally, we have the coup de grace…my personal favorite…

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Nate the Great, indeed, and who DOESN’T love a happy ending?