Contrary to popular belief, Panda’s have an incredible sex drive. The average male panda can have sex over 48 times in three hours outside of captivity. And often the competition to mate is brutal; males violently fight one another by tearing at each others throats and ears to reveal bloody wounds. In 2007, one of the first male captive bears died of infighting between other males when introduced into the wild. With a bite force strong enough to tear through thick bamboo, it’s surprising to see that humans don’t fear the dreaded panda, but instead view our species as cuddle buddies.
I’m angry. And it’s not because I have to stay in captivity and have caretakers massage by butt till I poo (baby panda’s are unable to poop without stimulation). But because I’m misunderstood. I’ll admit, on the outside I’m pretty cute; white soft fur and black spotted eyes make me a sexy bachelor for all you ladies out there. Yet on the inside I’m complex: a philanthropist, hobbyist, writer, and self conflicted omnivore. Those nannies pet me and give me baby eyes, but what they don’t know is that under my soft fur, I’m a dangerous animal with a love for writing.
Which is why I’m angry. Really angry. I’m tired of being judged for what’s on the outside and what is assumed of panda bears. Instead, I want to be appreciated and respected for what I am from the inside: an individual with many interests and insights, who should also be rightfully feared as being a 220lb sex machine. So, instead of taking out my anger on the caretakers who feed me bamboo and rub my belly, I blog from the confines of my cell in this Chinese panda sanctuary. Read my stuff, and tell me what you think. You’re welcome to stay as long as you don’t call me your cuddle buddy.