Seeing as a couple of days ago I managed to poison myself on an outing to the new Chinese restaurant in town, I've been on the internet, and I've been exploring. In between fighting a losing battle for control over my bodily orifices, I've been trying to establish just why the Panda is dying out; a question that has defeated and embittered the greatest Zoologists of our time could surely be solved in a day or two by a flabby man in a dirty nightshirt, given enough determination and near-fatal doses of ibuprofen. The news is, I've done it; Pandas are dying out not because of the evil visitation of humanity up on the world, despite what certain quarters would have you believe, but because they're so absolutely terrible at everything.
First off, they're a carnivore that, for whatever reason, chooses to solely eat bamboo, and then scientists wonder why they're tired all the time. Feeding a Panda bamboo is like feeding your children rocks - they aren't designed to draw any sustenance from them, so making rocks a key part of your child's diet is a surefire way to get a visit from social services. However, for reasons best known to themselves, Pandas choose to willingly subject themselves to deliberate subjugation of the natural order of things and are, thus, too knackered to get off their fat hairy arses and breed. Scientists suggest that Pandas once preferred a more meaty diet but, when their natural habitat was wiped out somehow - not by humans, apparently, as this alledgedly happened long before we learned to rub two sticks together to make a Volvo - they hedged their bets on a new food source by turning to eating Bamboo, which is the most prevalent thing around.
Never mind that it's about as good for them as eating sand.
So there you have it - Pandas are dying out because, well, they are. They are dying out for the same reason Tranmere would be turned into a ghost town if you took away all the McDonald's - they just don't have any of their natural food sources left. The hippie set will continue to shout from the rooftops about how the existence of Satanic coal-fired power stations make the Panda too depressed to have sex with one another, but they couldn't be further from the truth - Pandas damned themselves long before humanity bothered to start setting fire to shiny underground rocks, and damned themselves through their own stupidity. They have evolved to not give a toss. Even in captivity, where they can get as much fresh meat as they can possibly stuff down themselves and their own private mate to have bouncy-time with, they'd still rather sit on their backsides and eat bamboo, pausing only to attack the occasional Chinaman. Frankly, if a bunch of Pandas locked me in a faux-tropical paradise with nothing but Angus steak and Jennifer Love Hewitt, I'd have scoffed and bonked myself to death by this time next thursday, so the lazy little furballs have nobody to blame for their impending extinction but themselves.
Remember this next time the charity people come to your house or come up to you in the street asking you to give money to save the precious Panda; while they are cute, cuddly and make great stuffed toys for your children, we've given them all the chances we can give. We have established that you can lock the lot of them in a room with nothing but meat and sex from now until doomsday and they'll still be dead by the end of our lifetimes because they will persist in eating the Panda equivalent of rocks. Those of you who aren't hippies, however, can take great comfort from what we can learn from the panda's mistakes - that if we confine yourself solely to the consumption of raw meat and humping everything in arm's reach, humanity will endure. That, ladies and gentlemen, means that as long as we have Basildon, the human race will never die.
It brings a tear to the eye.
First off, they're a carnivore that, for whatever reason, chooses to solely eat bamboo, and then scientists wonder why they're tired all the time. Feeding a Panda bamboo is like feeding your children rocks - they aren't designed to draw any sustenance from them, so making rocks a key part of your child's diet is a surefire way to get a visit from social services. However, for reasons best known to themselves, Pandas choose to willingly subject themselves to deliberate subjugation of the natural order of things and are, thus, too knackered to get off their fat hairy arses and breed. Scientists suggest that Pandas once preferred a more meaty diet but, when their natural habitat was wiped out somehow - not by humans, apparently, as this alledgedly happened long before we learned to rub two sticks together to make a Volvo - they hedged their bets on a new food source by turning to eating Bamboo, which is the most prevalent thing around.
Never mind that it's about as good for them as eating sand.
So there you have it - Pandas are dying out because, well, they are. They are dying out for the same reason Tranmere would be turned into a ghost town if you took away all the McDonald's - they just don't have any of their natural food sources left. The hippie set will continue to shout from the rooftops about how the existence of Satanic coal-fired power stations make the Panda too depressed to have sex with one another, but they couldn't be further from the truth - Pandas damned themselves long before humanity bothered to start setting fire to shiny underground rocks, and damned themselves through their own stupidity. They have evolved to not give a toss. Even in captivity, where they can get as much fresh meat as they can possibly stuff down themselves and their own private mate to have bouncy-time with, they'd still rather sit on their backsides and eat bamboo, pausing only to attack the occasional Chinaman. Frankly, if a bunch of Pandas locked me in a faux-tropical paradise with nothing but Angus steak and Jennifer Love Hewitt, I'd have scoffed and bonked myself to death by this time next thursday, so the lazy little furballs have nobody to blame for their impending extinction but themselves.
Remember this next time the charity people come to your house or come up to you in the street asking you to give money to save the precious Panda; while they are cute, cuddly and make great stuffed toys for your children, we've given them all the chances we can give. We have established that you can lock the lot of them in a room with nothing but meat and sex from now until doomsday and they'll still be dead by the end of our lifetimes because they will persist in eating the Panda equivalent of rocks. Those of you who aren't hippies, however, can take great comfort from what we can learn from the panda's mistakes - that if we confine yourself solely to the consumption of raw meat and humping everything in arm's reach, humanity will endure. That, ladies and gentlemen, means that as long as we have Basildon, the human race will never die.
It brings a tear to the eye.
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