Am I the only one a bit put off by the panda craze that’s been sweeping the nation, what with everyone and their brother buying panda bears and then bringing them with them *everywhere*?
I mean, come on! I’m not saying pandas aren’t cute. I’m just saying, there’s a time and there’s a place. And when I go to the men’s room at a baseball game, the last thing I want to see is some rube in an “I heart pandas!” baby-t, hosing down his cotton-candy covered new-best-friend and looking at me like *I’m* the crazy one.
Puhlease!
what about panhandlers, I hate those too…right?
don’t misunderstand me — I don’t hate pandas. I less than three pandas! and I less than three panhandlers too.
it’s just panda-handlers I can’t stand.
It’s like “ALRIGHT. You own a PET PANDA. We GET IT.”
-Cecil
poster promulgates pandemonium. palpitating panjandrum protests, pens pro-panda panegyric. patrons perspire.
You know, when I have those dreams about someone hosing down a cotton-candy-covered panda in the Coliseum men’s room, I have the common courtesy to keep them to myself.
I am very late on this, but do you remember Sexual Harassment Panda from South Park? Pure comic genious.