Archive for September, 2006

explosive trafficking

A man can stand up. A man can fight. A man can throw off the ties that bind. A man can liberate himself from the oppression that grips his society.

A man can blow up a traffic camera.

Too long have we labored under the authoritarian gaze of our government. Too long have we paid our tolls and stopped at stoplights in fear of the silent menace watching us from above. This is autocracy. Our license plates catalogue us like internment-camp tattoos; the post office catches us surer than the police.

Show a little admiration for the man who rattles at the bars of our cage. Show a little reverence for the gall, for the cunning, for the skill it takes to turn your van around, pull over, rig explosives, and shower the oppressing machine into the night sky.

Britain leads the world in video surveillance, but who can doubt America will follow? Our roads grow more congested, our country shrinks a little every day. Let us take a lesson from this. Let us find within ourselves the courage to explode, to detonate our anger in the cause of freedom, to save ourselves before it is too late. Let us break the bonds of tyrrany with pyrotechnic rage.

cause for celebration

This just in.

Apparently—apparently—celebrities are in love with themselves. I KNOW, I KNOW—but there you are! After all, this is a thorough (n=200) academic study, performed by faculty at USC, only one of whom moonlights as the host of a talk-radio sex show. Believe it or not, celebrities are typically at least a little narcissistic.

(It should be said here, in light of some of this page’s previous contents, that by “in love with themselves,” we mean “purely in the mental/psychological sense with no physical affection intended or implied.” People—especially people who turn this blog up on search engines—tend to get the wrong idea.)

The Clandestine Panda Service would like to take this opportunity to thank Professors Pinsky and Young for their hard work, and, more importantly, for their dedication to human betterment. Let’s face it: understanding the workings of the celebrity mind will help therapists improve the lives of LITERALLY DOZENS of patients. Academia can do some wonderful things.

doggerel

Two dogs sit down next to each other in the veterinarian’s waiting room.

The first, a Chihuahua, looks quizically at the second, a Great Dane.

“Wow,” says the Chihuahua. “You’re huge. You must be really old.”

“Actually no,” replies the Great Dane. “I’m only eleven months. But you’re so tiny you must be only a couple weeks old.”

“Not me,” says the Chihuahua. “I’m eleven months too.”

“Huh,” says the Great Dane. “Well, what are you doing here?”

“Well,” says the Chihuahua, “my mistress walked by me the other day, and all of a sudden, I felt this uncontrollable urge. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d lept at her, wrapped myself around her leg, and started humping. I think she brought me here to get my balls cut off.”

“That’s funny,” says the Great Dane. “Just this morning, I saw my mistress step out of the bathtub and I felt this uncontrollable urge. Before I could stop myself I… well, I mounted her.”

“Heavens!” exclaims the Chihuahua. “Do… do you think they’re going to cut your balls off too?”

“Oh no,” replies the Great Dane. “I’m just here to get my nails clipped.”

Erik the Red’s complementary color country

Recently, intelligence networks (actually the Arts and Letters Daily, which is pretty intelligent even if it’s not a network) have come up with a startling report. It concerns something that has bothered Clandestine Panda Service geographers for some time, even though they didn’t want to say anything:

Why isn’t Greenland green?

Well, actually, it turns out that it is.  Or at least it’s getting there.

In fact, that same, weird, like, global warming thing that was mentioned here yesterday—yeah. Like, that’s actually part of it.

Seriously though, with only 56,000 people, a capital called “Nuuk,” a surface area thrice the size of Texas, reindeer (!!!), and an average temperature of 1.93 degrees celsius, I DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE ALL WAITING FOR. COME ON—GREENLAND HO!