Romance


Saint Valentine’s Day is a very special day. Many people all over the world celebrate Saint Valentine’s Day. Big people, little people, old people, young people, pirates and gold prospectors all love the merry day. But not too many people know about origins of the holiday and the one who began it all.

This is the story of Saint Valentine.

There once was a very little boy who lived in a very little town. They were perfect for each other. The boy’s name was Steve and the town’s name was Valentine. Sometimes, people called the boy “Steve, you know, that kid from Valentine”. Steve was very shy which made the other little children feel uncomfortable around him and call him names like “Stink, the Ugly Kid”, or “Stink-Bomb-Ugly-Face”. This only made Steve even more shy. His mother would compensate for his state of social ineptitude by smothering him in maternal love and pastries. Before long, Steve had terrible blood pressure and an unhealthy attachment to his mother. Steve then left home at the tender age of thirty five to make a life for himself. “Goodbye mother, goodbye sweet, sweet pastries.” He said as he said goodbye to his mother and her pastries.

Steve went to the very big city that was by the ocean. Steve had always wanted to be close to the ocean ever since he first ate one of his mother’s homemade salt water taffies while school children chanted “Are you some horrific sea venturing creature?” over and over again. Steve wanted to get over being shy. Steve also wanted to be near the ocean. As a perfect solution, Steve joined the Navy. He looked very keen in his white dapper uniform.

Many times people would say to Steve, “You think you’re pretty hot stuff don’t you?” and he would give a little wink and a snappy salute and another little wink. His bunk mate on the boat would always say to Steve before a weekend pass at port, “Go have a great time, Rudolf Valentino.” And Steve would say, “My name is Steve for the thousandth time. But, strangely enough, I am from Valentine.” And then he’d give a little wink and a snappy salute and another little wink. While in the Navy, Steve formed three strong friendships: a seagull he saw once by an island, the picture of his mother that he had tattooed on his chest himself, and his pillow which he wet with bitter tears every night.

Finally, Steve shot himself in the foot with a harpoon to get out of the Navy. Steve returned to the big city by the ocean. Though his love for all things nautical had grown cold, he still enjoyed the briny smell and the memory of the seagull he’d seen. One day at a quiet out of the way bistro, Steve fell madly in love with an incredible little number called a “Frappie”. Steve admired the coffee based drink for its zing and its zip and was wild over its sass and attitude. It was at another not so quaint and not so out of the way bistro that Steve fell in love once again. This time it was with a woman named Candy. Steve approached her and asked for money.
“Get a job, you horrific sea venturing creature.” She said.
Steve liked her zing and zip.
Steve asked her what her name was:
“Candy.” She said.
Steve asked if that was because she ate a lot of candy:
“Actually, I can’t. I’ve got life-threatening diabetes. But thanks for bringing it up, puke face.” She said.
Steve liked her sass.
Steve asked her if she would marry him and she pretended to dry heave. Steve liked her attitude.

Their love blossomed over the next weekend and with Candy’s persistence, they soon married in a bistro that was near the bistro they had met in, but was more like the bistro Steve had met Frappies in. Steve and Candy soon had a large loving family.

Of their children, one they found in a basket left on the front porch, one they found in the oven and looked like a bun, one they found floating in a basket in the river, one was dropped down the chimney by a stork, and one just appeared levitating in their backyard and had no belly button.

“Looky here, Steve” Candy said, “We’ve got a whole week of kids!” This was because at that time there was five days in a week.
Steve said, “Let’s hope our huge and really loving family always stays just like it is and no one ever adds any days to the week so we can always say we’ve got a ‘week of kids’. We will always be together, in perfect, flawless matrimonial bliss. I love you Candy, more than any words a poet may pen. You are my life, Candy. I will love you forever.”

A week later, Candy left Steve for an out of work circus clown with a terrible, hacking cough.
“Why Candy? Why? Why?” Wailed Steve.
“I need a man who laughs at my jokes.” She said.
“Was that a joke?” Steve said.
“Nope.” She said.

Five days later, Steve’s children left him while they had told him they were going out to buy cigarettes. They left him a note on the kitchen table which read:

“Told you we were buying cigarettes. Partially true. We are, but we are never coming back. Please disregard every time we ever told you we loved you.

Yours truly, your children.
P.S. If you ever see Mom again, tell her we love her very, very much.”

For the next nine days, Steve’s whereabouts were unknown. Some said that he lived in a cave where he harbored a sick turtle with a low birth weight he called his “Precious.”

He later reappeared in Valentine only to find his mother had died the previous night in an attack of angina and four badgers and a bat. Steve felt very alone. Steve took to spending many lazy afternoons by Valentine’s river where in his eye one could almost see the reflection of the ocean. One day, a servant girl came to the river to wash her cruel master’s clothes. Her beauty was unparalleled and her hair the color of burning heather.
“Whatcha doin’?” Steve asked.
“Washing my cruel master’s clothes.” She said.
“Really?” Steve said, “That’d be cool.”
“Washing clothes in a river?” She asked.
“No, being a cruel master.” Steve said, watching her get a really tough stain out of a coon skin hat.
“Hey, that gives me an idea!” Steve said. “Whatcha say we get married?”
“Well…” She said, “you sure a different fellow aren’t you?”
Steve laughed and laughed. She stared at him silently.

Eight hours later the two were married in Valentine’s second oldest bistro which was not as nice as the other bistros, but served great scones. “They’re like big funny cookies.” Steve said.

Their marriage produced no children, nor did they have a home to call their own. Instead, they moved in with her cruel master who got along famously with Steve. As the two grew older, they only grew closer and could hardly be separated. When they played horseshoes, each would purposely miss each toss to save the other the terrible shame of losing. Also, each would lie if the other asked if they were getting fat. Apparently, in this matter she lied very well, for it was two months after their wedding night that Steve died of morbid obesity. It turned out that all the years of pastries and salt water taffy had weakened his metabolism and the scones were just too much for his belabored heart.

She was as faithful to him in death as she had been in life. She visited his grave everyday for the next three weeks of her life before finally being struck down in an attack of gout, a badger, a spider, a leprechaun, and a bat. In her last will and testament she requested that all of their meager belongings be given to Steve’s five children, should they ever be found.

All the townsfolk said of her in her passing, “That woman put up with him like a saint. The woman was a saint. A true saint!” Because of that, and coupled with the fact that no one knew her real name, she became known as Saint Valentine. Throughout the little town of Valentine all remembered her by celebrating the day Steve first met her by the river- January 21. However, through the years, two more days were added to the week, Tuesday and Friday, so the date is now correctly reckoned at February 14.

Children originally celebrated the holiday by leaving small wooden shoes by the fireplace, so that during the night “Saint Valentine” could throw the shoes into the fire to warm the house and the hearts of the young. Sadly, today the little town of Valentine is gone and the townsfolk have long passed away, but it is said that the story will forever be told as long as there is love.

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Menelaus rasped his tongue along the iron bars of the cell.
“Open this door!”
“No.” said the go-go dancer inside.

The club was fulla hubbub and had a hot-tub in back where backrubs were given by Oddjob lookalikes. There was hobnobbing and gladhanding but not enough hobhanding. “This place is bunk.” grumbled Menelaus.
“We gotta get outta this place. If its the last thing we ever do cuz guys there’s a better life for me and you.” mumbled Argo. 
Ulysses stomped his foot. “I’m putting my foot down! This club was voted the only place in Atlantis City to get the ‘Food and Environment Warning’.”
“Firstly, that wasn’t an award it was a citation from the Health Code Inspectors and secondly the bacterial meningitis in the hot-tub has evolved legs and an endoskeleton!” Argo shrieked. 

As they pushed their way towards the door, a sinewy hand lit upon Uly’s shoulder and a chill touched his bones and he felt power drain from him. “Who dost touch me?” 
“Come,” he heard whispered across his eyebrow, curving along his cro-magnon skull and rattling his ear cartilege. 
Uly grabbed unto Menelaus’ coccyx who grabbed Telemachus’ perineum who grabbed Argo’s sacrum.
They made a trainwreck of a centipede, winding through the throng of thong wearing twenty-somethings who surreptitiously smoked something or another and wore perfume that smelled of Now And Laters. 

Through an alley way door and skipping through a round-about then down a drainpipe, they battled a giant spider’s Dead Lights and arose triumphantly after befriending four mutant ninja turtles and two Italians in overalls.
They stood on Atlantis City’s Boardwalk. The air smelled of cat, fish, catfish, and pirate’s crabs. 
Pale light from the whore houses glumly lit the Mysterious Stranger. Under her cloak her face was sheen, wane, a dagger of strange. 
 
“Look yonder” She pointed “and see the Great White Throne of Judgment.”
Past the merrygoround and a Hall of Mirrors it shone lilywhite and comely.
“There shall meet the most beautiful.”
“Yahoo! The beauty contest! We’ve finally arrived!” Ulysses yipped as he scratched at his scraggles he called a beard. 
“Yesssss. Your journey was arduous was it not? No? Oui?” The Stranger frowned her hisses.
“There was an anteater in Arkansas I’d rather not talk about.” Argo offered. “It kissed me on the mouth and then licked the inside of my stomach.” 
“We even went to Topeka!” Tele prompted.
“Topekaaaaaa….” from under Her Strange Hood. “What a punk ass town. Buncha weak ass clowns.”
“Uh…yeh.” 

The Stranger handed them backstage passes to the Beauty Pageant and in a BAMF! disappeared.
“Call me!” Menelaus weakly whimpered.

Tickets handed, wrists banded, hands sweaty, eyes leery, cheeks cheery the fantastic four were backstage at the Multiverse’s hottest spot since Lindsay Lohan’s canker sores. 

Said Menelaus:
Me likes the looks of the pretty ones the lovely bones
the shapes of things–of bone, of fleshy boon, they makest me swoon
Ah, fie! I spy with my little eye everyone here oh my oh my!
My lusts are lively and I’m lookin’ for a lady to be wively
ohhh I’m ready to settle dowwwn.
I like the looks of a country marm
with twigs in her hair and a sleepy charm
the looks of illiteracy found in the Bible belt
like big hamhocks and never svelt
a dullard’s nice duller’s better
someone who’ll stay home and knit a sweater
 

But until that day comes and along with it the duldrums
I’ll happily swing and do the nightscene thing
for that’s where the action is
Yes there’ll come a day I’ll jump in the fray
of a yawnin’ bond ’til On Golden Pond
but ’til then I’ll stay…where the action is

Sang Argo:
I’m keen on findin’ a mate fulla spleen
someone who’ll hold me and tell me its fine
I’d go for a fella smooth and sweet like Nutella
who’s church goin’, and tall and genuine
There no tellin’ where you’ll find your next heartache
I’ve had one or two in each United State
I fell for bellhop who hopped a train to elude me
I rang the bell of a boxer who squarely wouldn’t denude me
I wish I were a bloodhound to track down an escapee
or sniff out a gent who hails from Kissimmee
O a husband! It seems I’ll never get my paws on thee
Muttered Telemachus
I’m happy with my hand man
I don’t understand man

Why the trouble’s gone through
when your hand is given you

But until a ring graces my finger
In sleazy bars and dark alleys I’ll linger
There’s time before the vows are said
And there’ll be time to be celibate when I’m dead

Lamented Ulysses
O Penelope! Your name repeats in my conkles and valves
The memories of your smiles and laugter are my only salves
O what mistakes have I accrued that my birth is now rued
From a sad and broken heart this wisdom I now impart:

A marriage in title only means one should never be lonely
Yes I’ll soothe my pains and drown my shames
in further exploits yet with lovely damsels you can bet
‘cuz I earned my wife’s ire I’ll fight fire with fire
and burn my loins to ashes
with ladies in painted sashes
For flesh I’ll send until death the end–
More ladies says I, more ladies!

The Contest’s Judge checked the mirror one last time as she listened to the MC’s voice over the dressing room intercom. The mirror said: “this is what the sum of your body and clothes look like to you in the reverse image of what you would appear like to others” she smacked her lips and winked. Since her first occasion of judging the Atlantis City Beauty Contest, she felt like she was being paid for doing the opposite of what she was doing. It was she that was being judged. She knew that beauty evades proper naming and being applauded thus the best poets and prophets spoke in strange and confusing lines full of awe and evoking silence. No, it was she that was judged standing in the presence of beauty is a horrible thing at times, requiring change, humility, daring, self reflection. She had been aged dearly by the process, which is saying something since she was immortal.

The first 12,000 contestants were admirable. The next 144,000 were also full of grace and stirringly, hauntingly beautiful. She was shaking. Backstage the Flirtatious Four were just leaving in disgust.
“These people are disgusting!” Ulysses howled. “They look like grocery clerks and (sigh) mill workers!”
Menelaus shook his head “Truly, this is the worst looking group since ComicCon!”
They huffed towards the exit and just as they were squeezing through the door they didn’t hear a huge silence spread through the Hall. Somewhere a pin dropped followed by one elderly man’s giant adam’s apple clicking.
“What’s this all about?” Argo turned tail and sniffed back towards their spot in the wings.
“Well, maybe they’re so ugly it’ll be worth it just for laughs. Let’s go take a look.” said Uly seconding Argo’s motion.

She was plain as a scrap piece of paper, a face to be lost in crowds and assured to get her name forgotten. She stood before the Great White Throne in a dress not dissimilar from Judy Garland’s in that movie where she stood before a Great Green Throne. The Judge’s head was in her hands and the tiara was already descending from thin wires commanded from some theatre tech high in the clouds. The sea of onlookers were all a’tremble like a Methodism revival. Even Ulysses was beginning to slump as though an ice pick of ‘something great’ was shivvin’ into his gutsy-guts.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry me.” Menelaus whispered.
The Teen of the Quad cleared his throat. “Why does everybody got their nuts all wound up about her? I mean, she looks like somebody’s sister.” 
After years of hardship and loss, Telemachus would learn that beauty and ‘sexual appeal’ or ‘good looks’ were not always hand in hand and he would come to desire beauty–but that was many years away. He was in the maelstrom of testosterone and in a solipsism of masturbatory lust. 

Menelaus caught up with her in the parking lot. Under UFO landing lights and in yellow grids they spoke uneasily. Her tiara glimmering like a snowcone atop a head of raven’s feathers and nest. His hands rattled like the bbs in a trainyard’s grof session. She was kind and glowed at the non-punchlines of his non-jokes but didn’t give an inch when he played cute. After they parted, he ran back to the guys. “She said she appreciated the sentiment–but she can’t marry me right now and if I don’t back off, she’d pepper spray my ‘creepy ass’. But overall, I think it was a good first impression/marriage proposal….guys are you even listening?”
“I wanna marry that woman.” from Argo.
“Hey, waitaminute!”
“I’m gonna proclaim my undying love to her.” from Uly.
“Hey, jackass!”
“I’m hungry.” From Tele as he played Nintendo DS.

Menelaus looked back where she was waiting for her bus and the congregation of people around her on one knee.
“Getting down on one knee is a bit cliche isn’t it?”

Above them on the parking lot’s jumbotron big electric pixels announced: “Winner of Beauty Contest: Helen…..Next Week: Hannah Montana World Tour”

A Santacon invite:

Thanksgiving is now behind us, putting us squarely in ‘The Holidays’ now, which can mean only one thing:  Santa Clauses coming To Town… LOTS of them.

On Saturday, December 12th, 2009, beginning at 11:30am, hundreds of Santas of all stripes will converge at an as-yet-undisclosed location to begin a day of fun known alternately as ‘Santarchy’ or ‘Santacon’.

If you’ve never attended a Santarchy, we highly recommend it.  There’s just nothing like roaming the city dressed as Santa Claus in a big, red Santa mob, singing carols, handing out candy canes, and popping into pubs for a quick sip once in awhile.

For more information on Santarchy/Santacon Seattle, check out the Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=168342134116, or go to http://www.trisantacon.com/, where you can get info about the Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, and Bellingham Santacons.  Be sure to check back at those sites closer to the day of the event to get information on where to meet and how to catch up if you miss the start.

And if you need a Santa suit, you might be surprised at how inexpensive they actually are.  This time of year you can find them at lots of major retailers, or whip up something yourself from old clothes, fabric, or odds-and-ends laying round the house.  And although Santa is the primary character roaming the streets on Santarchy, you’ll be sure to find some elves, and maybe reindeer and other known Santa associates.

We hope to see you out on December 12th for Seattle Santarchy!

Happy Holidays!

dirty bunny

Police Officer Patty: Okay now Mr. Sherman-I know that you’ve gone through a lot but this will all be over soon.
Mr. Sherman: I can’t take anymore of this! This coffee that is. This is the worst police station coffee I’ve ever had!
POP: I’m sorry. Its just that with budget cuts and everything-
MS: I didn’t ask you for any excuses, Patty…Now, I’ve been waiting patiently for like an hour now-
POP: And I appreciate your patience. First we’ll get these handcuffs off you-
MS: Thank you! They’re on really tight. I can hardly even comb my fingers through my hair!
POP: We’ll get them off you as soon as we get the key. Officer Lou ate the key and he’s drinking Milk of Magnesia as we speak.
Police Officer Lou: (enters) hey guys-here’s that key. Sorry about that.
MS: About time, Lou!
POP: Lou, can you also get me the murder victim’s skull from the evidence locker?
POL: Uhhh…That might take a while to get the key to the evidence locker.
POP: (Looks gently accusing and shakes her head)
POL: I have an eating disorder, Patty. You KNOW that. (exits in a huff)
MS: Don’t make excuses for yourself, Lou! (Patty takes off MS’s cuffs) Ahhh. Now that’s better.
POP: And you’ll have to promise not to choke me again.
MS: No one can tell the future, Patty.
POP: I’m not asking you for a horoscope, Mr. Sherman- just that you won’t choke me again.
MS: Are you familiar with existentialism, Patty?
POP: Of course. My last murder case was committed with an extension cord. (MS looks unsure) And the murder victim was an octopus with an extra tentacle. (MS looks more unsure)…and it got me thinking about the meaning of my life. (MS finally looks appeased)
MS: Well, my point is, Patty-we can never be certain of what will be. Or WHO we’ll be at any given time. There is no essential ‘self’, Patty.
POP: You…your wisdom is powerful. You’re like a philosopher king.
MS: (chokes Patty for three seconds and then sits, looking innocent)
POP: You just choked me!
MS: That was the Mr. Sherman of the past, Patty. I live in the now.
POP: You facinate me (looks romantically at MS).
Police Offficer Lou: (enters) Hey guys! (senses romantic aire) Sorry to interrupt. I got that skull for you. (holds up tiny
container)
POP: Thank you Lou…(looks at inquisitively) That’s much smaller than I had expected.
POL: Well it IS the skull of a squirrel.
POP: I know that! Of course I know that. Still-its remarkably small.
MS: That is small. Even for a squirrel.
POL: …and I cremated it…and I spilled some of it…and I ate some of it.
POP: That skull was our only evidence, Lou! Well this case has just been flushed down the toilet.
POL: Oh yeah. And I flushed some of it down the toilet too.
MS: Well then, in that case I think that I’ll be going.
POP: Lou, will you do me a favor and leave us alone for a minute?
POL: Hey, it was good to see you again Mr. Sherman! Hope to see you soon.
MS: Oh, I’m sure you will. I’m here everyday. Say ‘hi’ to the wife and kids for me.
POL: Will do. Oh, and I didn’t forget-I still have your DVDs of ‘Silence of the Lambs’ and ‘American Psycho’. I’ll bring them for you tomorrow. Seeya! (exits)
MS: Well, Patty-we’ve been doing this dance for how many years now? You bring me in on trumped up charges with
either no evidence or lots of evidence that is quickly ingested by your partner…why don’t we just stop playing these silly games and tell each other how we really feel?
POP: You’re right. Let’s stop playing charades with each other’s hearts. Let’s stop holding the sex themed playing cards of lust so close to our heaving chests. Let’s tell each other the truth.
MS: Where do I begin? (takes her in his arms) Firstly- I killed that squirrel. Secondly- I love you.
POP: And I must tell you Mr. Sherman that I plan on killing you right now. (she pulls free and points her gun at him)
MS: I wasn’t expecting that.
POP: I wouldn’t have expected you to expect this.
MS: I thought that we had a rapport together! The way that you’d tell me I looked handsome in handcuffs, the way that you let me couchsurf at your place last summer….we went to your sister’s Bat Mitzvah together for Christ’s sake.
POP: It was all an elaborate scheme to earn your trust. Seventeen years of botching your murder cases just to get in your good graces.
MS: You won’t kill me, Patty. You don’t have the balls. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.
POP: Truth be told-it was ME who killed that extra tentacled octopus I told you about earlier. And truth be told, I do have balls. And a fully functional and uncircumsized penis.
MS: But….but….Patty…you’re Jewish!
POP: And I consider killing you a mitzvah! (raises gun and pulls trigger but it is empty, nothing happens. She looks at it confused)
Police Officer Lou: (enters) Oh, sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say goodnight to Mr. Sherman again. Goodnight, buddy. I love you. Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and sorry Patty, I ate all the bullets that were in your gun. Sorry. (to MS in a whisper) I love you.
MS: So where do we go from here?
POP: I just wish we could start all over again. Go back to the way things were. I’ve been such a fool-been so afraid of love-
MS: I didn’t ask for any excuses, Patty. Besides, that was ‘us’ in the past. I live in the now. And right now-I want someone to spend the rest of my ‘nows’ with. I’ll tell you what…I’m going over to the wharf to club some catfish to death. And I sure would like some company.
POP: How could I say ‘no’ to someone who looks so handsome in handcuffs? (they link arms and walk for the exit)
MS: I know a nice little vegan cafe on the way. They have a great kosher menu. (they exit)

(End Scene)

but I think that the guy that I have been having a nightmare-of-an-affair with for the past 6 month’s best friend – the one who pulled me aside early on to warn me of what’s to come – told me while we were hanging out in my room smoking pot before bed that he sang “Pretty Woman,” “Simple Man,” and “The Joker” playing rock band at his friend’s house tonight. He also was sleeping in my bed last night. We also might be going on a camping trip next week..?

read it and weep

read it and weep

I take pictures of the street that never get seen
the women I have loved never saw
a landscape that I will make between the fingers that I have
stretched for diminished chords

I have pictures in my heart
the woman I love can see them
they are blurry and badly lit but their meaning’s before me
because I took them when I was drunk or alive
and when my kingdom finally falls I will sing with her a song
to my poorly strummed guitar

my heart broke this morning outside a YMCA
and later the sleeping person outside the seminary didn’t wake
when I looked with a camera-eye and blinked a guilty picture

the way that my coffee-shook hands grab my face has changed
since seeing you last

oh my god just to smell you!
my pictures are waste 

the generosity of music has been stripped from me
the kindness of music a proximal kiss, untender but kind

I can picture in my mind a time when we once listened to music and my tremulous fingers found us on an untuned guitar with bends
frets are such forgiving things

out of trees and bad light you are in the background
singing

Beijing China, January 8th 2009:

A panda at the Beijing zoo achieved climax on the chest of his third tourist in two years, and this time, his thighs had to be forced open to free the man, who had jumped into the panda’s cage/sex den to retrieve his son’s toy.

Gu Gu, a 240-pound (110-kilogram) panda, ‘bumped and grinded’ on the man’s legs, neck, torso, and mouth, refusing to let go until zookeepers pried his thighs open with jaws of life and a car jack, said zoo spokeswoman and panda sexual therapist, Xiu Gong. Gu Gu, the sexually verile and possibly sex addicted panda, first made news in 2007 when he seduced a drunken tourist who had jumped into his cage/sex den who stated, “I was just trying to get to know Gu Gu better. I didn’t think that when he invited me up to his loft for bamboo shoots that would mean that he’d put on sexy R n’ B music, practically force feed me three Cosmos and a spliff, then masturbate on my chest.” The 2007 victim, who asked to remain nameless stated. “Gu Gu is cool and all, but really sexually aggressive and really not cool in my book anymore. I’m not saying he took advantage of me, but let’s just say I’ve had more considerate and gentle animals masturbate on my chest.”

Also, this past October, Gu Gu performed oral sex on a teenager who climbed into his exercise area/sex den out of curiosity. “I, did not have sexual relations with that panda.” Said the teen. “Oral sex is not really sex. Any president will vouche for that. Even under oath.”

The Beijing News said the latest victim, Zhang Jiao of central Anhui province, known for its sexually uptight and prudish citizens suffered damage to major ligaments and is recovering from surgery. “I had been trying to stay chaste until marriage. And now, I won’t be able to wear white to my wedding. I’m not saying that I’m upset with Gu Gu. I don’t regret anything we did. Its just that-I would have liked to take it slower. Made it special. That’s all.”

The newspaper quoted tourists as saying Zhang appeared to first look around to see if pandas were nearby before jumping in to get his 15-year-old son’s toy, an oversized silicone replica of a panda penis. “Certainly the fact that I was caught in Gu Gu’s cage/sex den holding a nine inch panda dildo could have played into Gu Gu’s actions. I’m not denying that.” Said Zhang.

Pandas, a national symbol of Chinese sexual voracity, and erotic lust have in recent years tried to live down their image as Don Juans of the East. “Gu Gu’s continued promiscuity is sure to make it more difficult for other pandas to fight against the stereotype of them being ‘sexual predators’.” Zoo official and panda sex therapist Xiu Gong said. “Many pandas just want to settle down in nuclear families and enjoy monogamy with tourists. But they’ll have to live down the reputation that Gu Gu is giving them.”

The Panda Genital Control Ministry of Glorious People’s Republic of China has issued a statement that as a response to Gu Gu’s behavior they will begin curtailing his daily five hour porn watching habit.  

Said Zhang, his eyes wet with sentimental tears, “Gu Gu will always have a piece of my heart. And until I wash my chest, I’ll have a lot of his genetic material.”

 

Reported by Ryan McGivern

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/03/27/tech/main2614896.shtml

http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/asiapcf/01/25/panda.passion/index.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=neXH4TZmvtg

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28554008/

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