Panda Express

Oooooooh guys have you ever eaten at Panda Express? It’s so great they have the best orange chicken in the world. Plus did you know they have a location in the Pentagon? Isn’t that really cool? I never really think about the Pentagon, which means that when it does cross my mind I always assume they do top secret cool things and only eat top secret cool things.

Here’s the thing. When I was a little kid, I went with my parents to Washington D.C. for Spring Break. The most notable point of the trip, I think, was that six year old Catherine went to her father and asked if she should pack a jacket, since it was February and we were going to be camping. “Nah,” my father said. “You don’t need one.” It’s not that my father left me cold and shivering for an entire week that stings of betrayal – it was the fact that he packed a coat for himself. His defense is that I should have packed one myself, I was six years old, I had autonomy, but to you I pose the question: was this negligence, or willful endangerment? Only a more thorough investigation of the insurance policy my father had on me at the time will tell for sure. You’re not off the hook either Mom, you could have stepped in and saved all of us. But my point is, obviously the most important thing to do when you go to Washington D.C. is see the panda’s inside the Washington Zoo. When we went, the pandas had just had a pair of panda cubs, long awaited by the political community, I’m sure. I agreed to go on that vacay with my parents, I probably caught pneumonia though it was a long time ago and I don’t really remember, I let them drag me to the White House and the Congress Building and all those lame, historically important, non-fuzzy animal things there are to do in Washington. Finally, on our penultimate day of the trip, they allow me the panda bears, my one demand from this trip that took me away from all of my very important first grade duties and responsibilities. But tragedy had struck! It was raining the day we went, and the pandas had refused to come out into the muckiness, the divas that they are. I didn’t care. It’s not like it was the only thing I had dreamed about since that cute, adorable little panda cub had been born. Since those cute, adorable pandas had been imported as a peace offering from China. Who cares???

But on our last day, as we were driving out of the city, my parents said, sure Catherine, quit your whining, we’ll go back to the zoo. Just for a second. Just to see if those bloody divas managed to get themselves out of bed this morning. At the zoo entrance, my dad casually let slip that we’d been rained out the day before, had missed the only reason we’d made this exhausting, cross country trip. And you know something? The guy at the gate just let us in! He didn’t charge us anything! He said, “Oh, you darling American patriots, I’m sorry that your hopes and dreams were shattered. I won’t ruin your illusions, not with your young child prodigy of an offspring at such  a delicate, impressionable age. I’ll provide you with all the fun and frolic that you could possibly imagine.” And sure enough, there were the pandas, holding hands, allowing pictures of them to be taken in their bathing suits for the cover of People magazine, the first photos of their children being sold for the centerfold article, proceeds donated to WWF. (That’s World Wildlife Foundation, you rubes, not World Wrestling Federation. C’mon guys.) Now, panda bears and I are even more in love than ever before. I hardly ever call them divas when I tell that story now. They even managed to come for my high school graduation, but there weren’t any seats big enough for their massive furry behinds and the principal didn’t understand that despite being called panda “bears” they were actually vegetarian, and they didn’t get to stay for the ceremony. +1768 It was nice of them to come out, just the same.

The only thing is, the charity work closely related to this story Panda Express does is with “communities”, with “underprivileged children”. Are you kidding me? None of those words sound like “panda”! I don’t think they give any money to animals at all! One time I donated at least three dollars to the World Wildlife Fund, and do you know what they gave me in exchange? Coffee mugs with PANDAS on them! Pandas are already the symbol of a charity movement, and it’s one that benefits PANDAS, not intercity children and victims of abusive homes! How dare you invite me into your restaurant under false pretenses, seduce me with your delicious, mouth-watering orange chicken, and then rip away all of my happiness by doing nothing for the species that I love? You better be careful, there are twelve pandas currently living in the United States. All it takes is one call, and a panda will come into your restaurant and then do you know what’s going to happen? It’s going to eats, shoots and leaves! Take that, Panda Express! What has your deceit bought you now? It’s probably too early after the Batman massacre to make a joke about a shooting rampage, so draw your own PC conclusions! -90

Look, Panda Express. We can come to an understanding. All you have to do to buy my support is provide me with a personal, live panda every time I come in to one of your restaurants, for my own personal use for the duration of my meal. All I want is a large, oversized mammal to hug and kiss while I consume my “gourmet Chinese food”, as you so eloquently call it. Before you agree, however, National Geographic does warn that Giant Pandas actually spend a full twelve hours a day eating bamboo, and that’s a lot of fiber, if you know what I mean. I’m not sharing a bathroom with those monsters.