Nobody’s Buying Our Bamboo and You All Are To Blame

 
 
 
D

ear Employees of Bamboo Revolution Furnishings,

Congratulations to everyone for a great first year. Founding this company has been a dream. With our commitment to natural materials and hard work, we’ve created the healthiest, most timeless products possible. Like the bamboo we import from China, our furnishings are strong and elegant.

But it’s not all good news. Despite the quality in our craft, sales are down. And after a month-long dive into the data, our research team has found the cause:

Our employees are eating all the bamboo. And not just the building supply. The actual products. All of it.

Now, I recognize this is partly my fault, as I gambled on hiring a team of giant, adult Panda Bears to be my salesmen. It was a calculated business move and I stand by my rationale: Who knows more about bamboo than Panda Bears?

Nobody. Nobody knows more about bamboo than Panda Bears. Panda Bears are bamboo.

But if I’m being honest, I now regret a lot of my decisions. Notably spending millions of my own dollars to purchase Panda Bears that otherwise would have been sold into captivity at the San Diego Zoo. I felt it was a win-win situation for both parties: Panda Bears would be freed and given employment in a lucrative position with room for growth; and I would get the best, most knowledgeable salesmen outside of the competitive Asian market.

Alas, I know it’s not useful to regret things. Could I regret connecting the sales office and the warehouse, the latter of which is filled with delicious, fresh bamboo? Perhaps. Could I regret constructing a bamboo wall to separate the two sides, a wall that would only get eaten the day it was finished? Perhaps. But perhaps you all could practice some goddamn self-control and not eat all the products. Got that, Panda Bears? Don’t. Eat. The. Products. Bad Panda Bears. That’s a bad Panda Bear.

To recap:

  • The tables: Don’t eat them.
  • The hardwood floors: Don’t eat them
  • The cabinets: Don’t eat them
  • The cutting boards: If you need to eat something, these are acceptable. In fact, as a bargaining chip, I will be stocking the vending machines with these handcrafted bad boys.

Now, this memo isn’t all reprimanding. I’ve got some good news, too. Our regional salespanda of the month, Xin Xin, gave birth to a new cub this year. Congratulations to Xin Xin and her new family. Though if I’m being honest here, you have got to be goddamn kidding me. That’s another mouth to feed. It’s nearly impossible to get Panda Bears to mate, yet here I am, watching Bamboo Revolution Furnishings go down the goddamn drain as generations of Panda Bears chow down on my product.

The message I’m getting at here is very simple — a message I reiterated in the hundreds of emails I’ve sent in the last few months: Don’t eat the bamboo. Just don’t, Panda Bears. Are you guys even reading the emails I send??? Are you??? For that matter, I’m now realizing you guys may not be able to read at all! You Panda Bears a like a pack of hairy Helen Kellers and sending you something you have to read is probably not the brightest move. And that’s on me. I must be a big goddamn idiot. First the hiring of you assholes and then the emails to illiterate Panda Bears? I might as well eat the goddamn bamboo myself!

Sorry. I apologize. If you’re still reading this/can read at all, I’m very sorry I let myself go off the handle. And congratulations again to Xin Xin. I’m sorry I screamed so loudly at your child’s birth and held up that sign that sign that said “NOOOO” as he emerged unto this earth.  

I frankly don’t know why I’m continuing to write this update. Screw it, Panda Bears, here’s a graphic that should convey what I’m trying to get at.

 
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By the way, I had to hire an outside graphic designer to make this image. As you probably guessed, I got nowhere when I tried to explain what I wanted to the Panda Bear currently employed as Art Director.

 

Sex Advice From An Uncomfortable Guy Who's Afraid Of Sex And Blows It Every Time (Volume 3)

 
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Hi! I'm Dr. Sex Man

I've been provided a column to answer all of your, ah, your sex questions, which I'm really excited to do. The questions below have been provided by actual readers. If we didn't get to yours in this round, stay tuned, and as always, keep the questions coming to drsexman@funnyordie.com.

 
 

Dear Dr. Sex Man,

I've been dating my girlfriend for years. Her dad wants me to propose. Should I do this while "doing it"?

— Doer From Dover

 

No. I tried it once. I was having, you know, sex, with this girl I liked and I wanted to marry her and I said, “Will you marry me,” but the only thing that she heard was “Mary,” because I was thrusting and out of breath and probably drooling. Anyway, Her name was Claire, not Mary, and she got really mad. A second later I tried to propose again but by that time she was in the bathroom cleaning herself up, and she thought I proposed to my flaccid, um, you know, my penis. She left because I blew it. 

 
 
 

Dear Dr. Sex Man,

Dear Dr. Sex Man,

I love my boyfriend very much, but I'm a very sexual person and love to please. Unfortunately, my boyfriend’s is 55 going on 56 and I’m 47. We only have sex once a week, if that. His testosterone levels are extremely low and I've suggested he see another doctor since the current doc feels like a man his age shouldn't be having a lot of sex. What should I do? Also, how can get I him to go down on me nicely without his "EGO" getting hurt? Sexual conversation is not an easy convo with him. HELP!!!!!!

— Sexually Frustrated 47-Year-Old sent from my iPad

 

Oh, man, that’s great that you have a boyfriend at that age! And I guess it’s also great that you are still having, you know, sex. I’m hoping that when I reach that age I will no longer hyperventilate when the word "sex" is even mentioned out loud in a PG-13 movie. 

But wait a second, he has a doctor who doesn’t think a man his age should be having a lot of sex? Is that something doctors say? Will he have a heart attack? I usually trust doctors, because they tell me when I've swallowed too many coins or when I can start lifting houseplants again, but this sounds strange. Sex is something to be feared because it is terribly frightening and embarrassing and I blow it all the time, not because it is unhealthy. 

If you are competing with the doctor, maybe you need to turn your boyfriend on in more ways. Why not try incorporating something men of his age are into? Dressing up like a boat, or barbecue, perhaps? Maybe temporary tattoo the New York Times crossword on your back or tummy? This sounds weird; I think I’m blowing it right now. 

As for your final question of many, Ms. My iPad, I would suggest yelling “Keep Going!” while he is going, you know, downtown on you. That way his EGO will be more encouraged than intimidated. Just don’t yell, “You look so funny from up here,” “Is your tongue made of uncooked bacon?”, or “Leaning against a purring cat is more effective than this.” All of those will make him feel bad, and you’ll blow it. 

 
 
 

Hi Dr. Sex Man,

I was wondering: why do men like it when girls arch their backs during doggy style? And which is better, when a girl is on her hands and knees, or on her elbows and knees?

— Doggy-Gone from Des Moines

 

Holy Moly. Okay, so doggy style is when you are, you know, having sex with a girl, and the man is standing or he’s on his knees, right? And the girl is on all fours, er, she’s pretending to be a table. So the guy is having sex with the girl pretending to be a table, right, and you’re asking why men like it when girls arch their backs during that time? I’m going to assume you mean arch the back down, like a ‘U’ shape, right? And men like it more? They do? I guess since I’ve only had sex with a girl while she was in that kind of table-pretending position one time, I don’t have an opinion, personally. I’m not sure if she did anything with her back, to be honest, because I couldn’t stop thinking about tables, and that she was a table, and then I pictured a coffee table book on her back and then I thought how that’s a mean thought because coffee table books are so heavy, and then I thought how hard it would be to balance a cup of juice on her back, and that makes her a bad table, and then I thought it’s weird to think of a girl you like as a bad table, so I blew that one. 

Maybe guys like the arched back because then the girl doesn’t remind them of tables so much? So if we are sticking to this table logic, maybe being on the elbows and knees is a more-preferable position, because then you won’t look anything like a table, ladies. Not even close. 

 
 

Get Advice:

 

More Sex Advice From Dr. Sex Man:

History's Dumbest Theories About the Moon

 

As long as there have been idiots, there have been idiot theories about the moon: what it’s made of, what exists on its surface, and who, if anyone, might live there. Here are some of our favorite theories of the moon over the ages. 

 
 

Albino Stingray Moon - 400 A.D. 

A group of nomadic tribes on the island of Papua New Guinea were convinced the moon was an active mass of albino stingrays. As the story goes, an albino stingray was found on the ground one day during a full moon, and this one guy, Alvin, said that it must have fallen from the moon, and everyone just kind of went with it. Historians believe Alvin was the member of the tribe who would test mushrooms to see if they were okay to eat. 

Forest Moon - 1780 A.D.

Celebrated amateur astronomer William Herschel used his homemade telescopes to discover the planet Uranus and thousands of binary star systems. Hershel was also able to observe the most detailed views of the moon in human history, and concluded the moon was covered in vast forests of trees, which is really dumb. Upon hearing this theory, the Royal Society of London went outside to double check that whole Uranus thing. 

Moon Blankets - 1840 A.D.

As pioneers crossed the Great Plains along the Oregon Trail, many scientists were amongst them, and had unprecedented, clear views of the night sky. From there they believed the moon was covered in blankets. Aliens would picnic on the moon, romantically stare up at the Earth, and smooch tentacles. Historians believe these “scientists" were probably cold, ridden with typhoid fever, and were testing out any new mushrooms they came across. 

Hollow Spacecraft Moon - 1893 A.D. 

After the Industrial Revolution, many thought that the moon was actually a giant hollow spacecraft. Star Wars is actually a satire making fun of all those idiots. 

Cigar Moon - 1919 A.D.

A bunch of smoking ding dongs also thought the moon was covered in cigars and cigar ash. Cigars are so good they had to have come from a place not on this Earth, they would say with smoke coming out of their mouths at the dinner table. This way of thinking was so popular, in fact, it is why to this very day rich idiots call cigars “Moon’s gift to man.” 

Moon of Ants - 1930 A.D.

As entomological studies increased, experts began to understand that ants could live in nearly every type of environment. So why not the moon? The large craters could be nothing more than colonies run amuck, right? Bug nerds from across the world hoped it to be true, but it’s not. 

The Spilled Milkshake Moon - 1955 A.D.

As milkshakes grew in popularity, so too did the theory that milkshakes were the reason the moon was two shades of vanilla and chocolate. After the owner of a soda shoppe presented his thoughts to the Royal Society, he was immediately shot. The shooter turned out to be an extremist Cigar Mooner, attempting to quell the growing Milkshake Movement. 

Moon of Melted City Snow  - 1968 A.D.

Astronaut Neil Armstrong was personally convinced that the moon was made of a mix of white snow and a shitty, dark, city snow that is half-melted, full of trash and suspicious-looking dirt. He held onto the City Snow Theory until he took his first step on the moon. Disappointed, Armstrong begrudgingly said, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” instead of his originally planned phrase, “I fuckin’ knew it was snow!”

Illustrated & Animated by Natasha Federova

Fine Dining Round-Up

 
Marn Staples

Marn Staples

I’m esteemed food critic Marn Staples. There are a lot of great restaurants out there. But how will you know which one to open your wallet (and mouth!) at?

 
 
 
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Hostaria Del Sogno

Located in the lobby of the Lafayette Hotel, one would be excused for assuming Hostaria Del Sogno is only worth your time if you’re staying there on business. But its fantastic menu and impeccable service make this seasonal Italian restaurant one of the city’s finest.

Chef Gianni Derivi, a native of Florence, prepares delightful rustic Italian fare using locally sourced ingredients. My server, Brian, recommended the wild boar sausage polenta with morels. He did not steer me wrong: I ate every heavenly bite.

Later, when Brian returned to check up on me, he looked at my clean plate and remarked, “Boy, sir, you must’ve hated it!” I burst out in hysterics! What a marvelously delivered quip. I expected to have a belly full of food, but I also got a belly full of laughs!

After I finished my dessert — a sumptuous blueberry ricotta cheesecake — I found myself hoping Brian would pull the same joke on me again. But I guess he decided once was enough. I anticipate my return to sample more of Chef Derivi’s delicacies — and more chuckles courtesy of Brian!

HIGHS: Densely flavored Italian dishes; wonderfully funny wait staff

LOWS: Underwhelming courtyard view; expensive corkage fee

 
 
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Jin San

Jin San is the brainchild of Chef Tetsuo Nomura, formerly chef de cuisine at legendary sushi outlet Susubane. Striking out on his own, Nomura has crafted an ambitious Japanese/New American fusion concept that sometimes seems unsure of its own identity.

My server, Janet, suggested the omakase, a chef’s selection of sushi dishes and small plates. The initial courses of sushi I received arrived room temperature and smelled sour — major red flags. A later cooked dish — a miso mackerel with wasabi emulsion — tasted rancid, but I finished my plate out of professional obligation. Janet noticed my empty dish, and asked, “You still working on that?” I stammered, confused by the question, when suddenly, Janet cut in with a “Gotcha!” Hilarious! The whole meal was redeemed!

The next day, while I was besieged by the worst case of foodborne illness of my life — repeatedly filling my toilet with watery brown liquid spraying from both major orifices — I thought back on Janet’s outrageous quip and laughed and laughed. Sorry, Brian, but you’re no Janet!

HIGHS: Hilarious staff that will have you rolling on the cherrywood floors

LOWS: Food is lacking in flavor and presentation; “C” rating from the Health Department

 
 
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Lucidity

Most chefs go their entire careers without winning a coveted James Beard Award. Chef Ty Alexander received his prior to his 30th birthday. This young lion of American fine dining is a master of seafood, so it’s appropriate his flagship restaurant has a picturesque bay view.

My exceptionally accommodating server, Alan, steered me through multiple courses of absolutely stunning food: a Woodleaf farms kale salad that was at once light and opulent; seared sea scallops over Israeli couscous that tasted like food for the gods. But as my meal approached its end, there was one problem: I had yet to laugh.

Then, I had an idea. Remembering Brian’s joke, I thought I could induce Alan to play along. So, I pointed at my empty plate and said, “As you can tell, I hated it!” Alan did not understand and apologized, offering the meal on the house. I had to clarify that I was joking, which he met with an “Oh, okay.” A deflating end to an otherwise transcendent meal.

When I got home, still starved for laughs, I called Hostaria Del Sogno and asked them to put Brian on the phone. I reintroduced myself and asked Brian to do the plate joke for me. He seemed extremely confused, but still willing to play ball. After he said, “Boy, you must’ve hated it!,” he stayed on the phone with me as I laughed for four minutes straight. If only Lucidity was so accommodating to its patrons.

HIGHS: Imaginative, delicious dishes by a true virtuoso

LOWS: Where are the jokes, ya goobers?

 
 
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Chucklers Comedy Club

With its oversize cutout of a laughing cartoon man on the backstage wall, you know exactly what you’re in for when you find your seat in Chucklers. This stand-up club doesn’t have a kitchen, so the closest you’ll get to food is any garnishes that come with your two-drink minimum. But I found that trade-off more than worthwhile.

Our headliner was Liz Greenberg, who I learned I should know from her appearance on Last Call with Carson Daly. Perhaps in another life she was a doctor, because her observation-based humor had me in stitches! In fact, midway through her set, Liz noticed my boisterous laughter and turned her comedic guns on me. “Who’s that asshole laughing so obnoxiously?” she said. “Shut the fuck up, everyone hates you!” she finished, to hysterics from me and emphatic applause from the delighted crowd.

As security escorted me to my car, still convulsing with laughter, one thought filled my head: This was the best meal of my life.

HIGHS: Riotously funny; open-mic on Sunday nights for the daring

LOWS: Not a restaurant

 
 
 

The Nazi Radio Sitcom, "Füror"

 

As an attempt to further their propaganda machine, the Nazi party produced a short-lived radio sitcom. Title "Füror," it ran from 1939-1941 and is a haunting reminder of the the regime. We were able to uncover a never-before-heard snippet from the show. Listen below. 

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CREDITS

Created by Adolf Hitler and Joseph Goebbels

Executive Producer: Adolf Hitler

Story By: Joseph Goebbels 

Teleplay: Dan Abramson

Starring: Zack Poitras, Pat O'Brien, Jason Flowers

Audio Engineer: Jason Flowers 

 

An Excerpt From The Script "A Living Inspiration," By Michael Jordan

 

The Occasional is pleased to present an excerpt from the draft of a screenplay about Hall of Fame basketball legend Michael Jordan, written by Michael Jordan himself! Entitled A Living Inspiration, the discovered pages appear to be from his personal copy, as it contains editing notes written in his handwriting. Enjoy!

Click or drag page edges below to read the script