Welcome, children.

I feel like a father to each and every one of you.

And I also have a major announcemnt:

Bamboo Forest and Flying LlamaFish have started a t-shirt company:

LLAMA FISH Store

But what’s important is that we’re offering a 10% discount to all our Pun Intended readers.

Our prices are already very competitive and this will make it so that you simply get that much better of a deal!

Click the following link to see our store and our shirts:

LLAMA FISH Store

10 % Discount code that expires on 12/31: hani

What We Have to Offer You

Currently, we only have four shirts but we’ll be adding eight more soon.

Let’s take a looky at the stupendous merchandise!

Shirt 1: View in Store

Commemorate the extinction of those massive creatures that once roamed this ball of spinning ice you like to call Earth.

Shirt 2: View in Store

Everyone knows that my hero is the world’s most interesting man. Now you can wear what he wears when he’s dressing casual.

Shirt 3: View in Store

Ever been to a juice box party? Bring this shirt to your next one and you’ll blow people’s minds.

Shirt 4: View in Store

Slavery has run rampant on the planet of Tatooine for far too long. Come together and rise up with this stylish tee.

If we’ve ever brought a smile to your magical face, please check out our brand new t-shirt store!   

Passer-byers came at me like waves in the ocean, and not a single one could keep their damn eyes off my food.

I was sitting at a table outside of a Whole Foods Market, and every person who walked by found it necessary to take a look at what I was munching on like they’d have heart failure if they didn’t.

Why must you peeps inspect what I’m eating?

It’s then I realized a terrible truth about humanity. We want to eat 24 hours a day. And if we’re out anywhere and see someone eating, our eyes will lock with their food. We selfish humans couldn’t care less that we’re wrecking their peace while they’re trying to eat in peace. It’s just the way it is.

Truth is, I could’ve been sitting outside the Whole Foods with a hover board floating on my table and only a couple passer-byers would’ve had their curiosity provoked. But put a corn beef and rye on the table, and everyone who swings by is guaranteed to ensure a glimpse, be it young, old, poor, religious leader, transgender – you name it. Everyone has to take a look at what you’re munching on.

I bet you a ham and swiss sandwich, if I was in a building, whether an office building or a college building filled with classrooms… if the fire alarm went off, and I was  munching on a bean burrito – people frantically trying to exit the building to save themselves wouldn’t hesitate to take a pause to look at what I was eating. Only once they got their glimpse would they continue to scurry off to save themselves. You know what I say is true.

We are a sick species.

The verdict?

Not only would we humans risk our lives to get a glimpse of what someone else is eating – we also can’t stop thinking about eating.

Now, what shall I have for din din?

                                                                                                           Photo by WordRidden

Do you believe in other worlds as I do?

How about other dimensions?

Surely you don’t believe this planet is the only one with life.

Indeed, there are many more. And some realms of existence are even outside our dimension.

Over the weekend I discovered that there’s an entire dimension other than ours, and that a few governments, including the U.S. government, have been exploiting it for selfish gains in truly gruesome, tragic ways.

Do not read what follows if you don’t want to feel like your heart has been chopped up into a billion little pieces and devoured by a mean-spirited mongoose.

My Great Discovery

While waiting for the subway I was so bored I was driven to read a nearby sign.

Moments after reading, however, something truly bizarre happened.

The human like “images” in the sign that represent people were crying out to me in tears.

In an eerie cacophony of voices that sounded electronic in nature and with a low tone it was said to me:

“Bamboo, we’re dead but we can still communicate with you; your government and many of the world’s governments have been murdering us for the sake of using our bodies to place in the signs of your world so that your people obey their statutes.”

I felt so nauseous I had to sit down and bury my head in my hands knowing this atrocity was going on that practically no one’s aware of.

Well not anymore.

I’m telling the entire world.

Please realize I’m putting myself in grave danger by revealing this information to you. However, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself any longer were I not to tell others in hopes that we stop this genocide.

What I’m about to show you are beings just as real as me and you when they’re alive in their dimension. They have families, friends, and children, just like me and you.

When taken from their dimension, as soon as they’re “harvested” as the sick government f*cks like to call it, all that is left are bodies frozen in time that are later placed on signs. Their souls have long left them.

This tragedy is beyond words:

This father and son were murdered just outside of an assisted living facility. Such a tragedy, they didn’t even know what hit them.

This mother and son were murdered at a mall in the other dimension. Their souls are long gone. All that remains are their frozen bodies as they were just before they were wacked.

This one below really urks me. Right after I took a picture of this, which is the back of an ice cream truck adjacent to a playground, I walked over to get some pictures of murder victims at the playground. But I wasn’t able to actually click any shots because a PIG came over to me and asked me what I was doing trying to suggest I’m a pedophile.

I hope he’s reading this:

You son of a bitch PIG, I was TRYING to document a holocaust that’s occuring in our generation until you got all up in my business like there’s something inherently wrong with a grown man taking photos at a playground filled with children.

You make me sick.

This poor kid was murdered while rollerblading to school.

World governments engaging in these acts of murder just so they can have figures to use in their signs to show people their statutes is a holocaust that’s occurring in our times.

It’s an unspeakable tragedy. We have to put an end to it now.

Please do your part and spread the word.

1. You lovingly craft a hearty sandwich and gleefully squeeze the yellow bottle only to witness mustard piss burst out that instantly turns your glorious creation into a drenched abomination.

2. You approach an escalator that’s frozen. What once enthusiastically carried humans to their heights is now Han Solo in carbonite.

3. You pass a friend in the hallway and say hello. Five minutes later you pass them again and struggle to handle the profound awkwardness.

4. You bite your lip or tongue while attempting to chew a mouthwatering slice of pizza.

5. You step on gum and spend the rest of the day being reminded of this incident.

6. You’re running late for something important when you realize your car is out of gas. You find the nearest station, jump out of the car, and swipe your credit card faster than a ninja.  The monitor says, “ERROR – SEE ATTENDANT”.

7. You steal a kiss with a mannequin, hoping to bring it to life. Instead, it remains perpetually motionless.

It’s only now that I’m able to talk about it, because upon reading her email, I was plunged into a fire ball of rage.

I don’t even know where to begin…

Her email was copy and pasted. She’s obviously clueless that Pun Intended is an institution.

Ms. Chun, would you send a copy and paste email to President Barack Obama? But you’ll disgrace the Pun Intended blog like your life depended on it, won’t you?

It only gets better from here, and I quote:

“If you would like to do a review, feature, excerpt, Q&A, or book giveaway on your website, I would love to send you a free review copy. Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you.”

No Ms. Chun, I would NOT like to do any of the above on my website for a book that would make me so f*cking bored I’d resort to visiting my local grocery store, depanting, and walking around until I got arrested and my life was ruined.

If you’re wondering why she would think Pun Intended, the institution, would want a free copy of this book, read the following excerpt from her email:

New book, THE PUN ALSO RISES: How the Humble Pun Revolutionized Language, Changed History, and Made Wordplay More Than Some Antics (Gotham Books, April 14, 2011, $22.50)  is the definitive account of the humble pun, its history, and why punning still matters.

Did you even take the time to investigate this website Ms. Chun?

Last time I checked, I didn’t see too many puns floating around (only a single flying whale) anymore than I’ve ever spotted a forest when I visited Amazon.com.

I did nothing to deserve your abomination in my email box nor the disrespect you’ve shown the Pun Intended Universe.

I’m going to make this as easy as PI for my readers: if you want to read the history of puns, Gotham’s new book is your ticket.

If, however, you want to read something that’s actually fun, interesting, and frankly kicks serious ass:

Subscribe to Pun Intended.

Any questions?

P.S. – We’re reasonably nice folk here in the PI Universe. We love all people. But when your mission is to insult us, let it be known, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant that knows no mercy.

P.P.S. - Ms. Chun, are you by any chance related to Arlene from Des Moines, Iowa?

I have an odd passion that you’ve probably never heard of.

I endearingly call it ‘splitting the defense’.

Have you ever been walking and you noticed a couple holding hands approaching and you unintentionally forced them to dehand while you walked in between them?

If you’ve done the above, you’ve effectively split the defense.

While most folk don’t do this intentionally, I frequently invest long afternoons pursuing this scenario because I derive incalculable joy from it.

To enhance my enjoyment of this hobby even more, I often utter the words “booya baby” as I’m walking between the couple that dehanded because of my trajectory.

Now I’m not the kind of guy looking for a fight which is why I say these words in a low tone of voice, slowly, just loud enough for there to be a good shot the couple hears it, but not loud enough they’re certain I uttered anything.

To say I experience delight uttering these words while passing between a couple is a huge understatement.

When I’m feeling really gutsy and going for glory and I’m spending my afternoon at a mall or a country fair, I’ll actually seek out the same couple multiple times over an entire day.

Yes… I’ve split the defense as much as three or four times on the same couple in one afternoon and I’m so skilled at it, that while they probably think it’s fishy, it’s almost impossible they could reach the conclusion that I was doing it intentionally.

I’m that good at it.

I’m pretty sure some folk are going to criticize my hobby saying it’s creepy, but they’re probably the kind of folk that don’t get much exercise.

Do you have any idea how much walking I do over  the course of eight hours when my entire focus is seeing how many couples I can split the defense on?

It’s downright exhausting yet immeasurably rewarding as well.

P.S. - Some have asked if I’d engage this hobby if I had a girlfriend and the answer is of course I would. You don’t stop doing things you love as soon as you get into a relationship, know what I mean?

If I don’t receive those 10 comments I’ll take it that no one cares about the PI Universe anymore — and I’ll shut this blog down.

The clock’s ticking.

No, I’m not kidding.

Yours,

Bamboo Forest

P.S. — Some like everything in writing, so here it is for you peeps obsessed with legality:

Forget that, her name is Arlene; I won’t reveal her last name.

She writes:

“I’m a preschool teacher from Des Moines and I really love the stuff you and your brother do even though it’s at times a bit racy and adult oriented.

But I had no choice but to unsubscribe when I saw a picture of marijuana at the end of your latest post.

Considering the bizarre nature of the stuff you and your brother write on, I should have known you’re both heavy drug users.

I also think it’s pretty sick that you dress this blog up with a flying whale, a floating octopus and colorful fish with wings among other childish things luring young unsuspecting children onto your site. You then proceed with promoting drugs to your young audience by posting a photograph of marijuana at the end of a blog post.

I have my limits and this is just sick. I’m done with your blog.

Sincerely,

Arlene “

My response

When you assume anything you make an ass out of YOU and ME.

And you, Arlene, have most certainly made an ass out of you and me.

That was NOT drugs; it was Japanese sencha; green tea that I love and drink daily.

Because I can see how that picture could have been misinterpreted as marijuana I’m going to try not to write copious amounts of angry expletives.

As a result of your email I decided to delete the photograph you thought exhibited drugs out of fear that others may unsubscribe by mistakenly believing that picture was anything but what it actually was:

GREEN F*CKING TEA

I’ve never claimed this blog’s meant for kids, Arlene. However, I can see how having a flying whale as a mascot and other magical creatures could give the impression this blog’s geared toward children.

However, nothing could be further from the truth.

What can I say? Looks can be deceiving.

For the record, you should be at least 14 years of age to read the Pun Intended blog. If you’re under that age I recommend you only subscribe to assist us with our social proof, but don’t read anything we publish because it might cause behavioral problems and we can’t be held responsible for outbursts at school and mental instability within the family.

At the conclusion of this post I’ve posted the original photograph that Arlene claimed was displaying drugs.

And to reiterate, in that photo it’s JAPANESE GREEN TEA FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I was born in Japan and, yes, I drink a lot of this stuff.

That wooden thing you see under the tea? That’s a wooden tea scoop (chami) made from Japanese cherry tree bark.

And in case you’re wondering, the tea was consumed with my friend Yuki (sup buddy!!!) after the photo was taken and indeed made me HAPPY.

It’s f*cking amazing that I get accused of promoting drugs by merely trying to be artistic on my blog. If displaying a little tea at the end of my post creates such ridiculous accusations, what would happen if a photo of fun dip was inserted at the end of my post? God only knows.

What the hell’s this world coming to?

The only drugs I do are prescription drugs, Arlene, that my psychiatrist gives me to help me keep my life on an even playing field as he says.

Let’s not assume things when we don’t have all the facts, OK?

My reputation means something to me, so please don’t go around screwing it up.

Is that too much to ask?

Yours truly,

Bamboo Forest… Lover of tea and will never apologize for it (EVER).

Original Photograph (It’s TEA people)

There’s little doubt that when you close the door in preparation to poo poo you’ve placed yourself in a refuge sheltered from the hectic outside world.

Really… when else do you feel as secure? It’s like being back in the mother’s womb, except with more self-awareness.

Do you dim the lights as I do?

Perhaps you heat essential oils to enhance the ambience, further.

Regardless of how you spend these precious moments tucked away from the hustle and bustle of your busy life, one question remains: What kind of toilet paper do you use?

Do you use Scott’s because it’s cheap, and the roll seems like it could wind around the globe multiple times?

Perhaps you use Charmin because you love the idea that an adorable talking teddy has spent the afternoon cuddling with your toilet paper at the park prior to your using it.

Or, like others, you prefer Angel Soft because the idea that a little baby only minutes ago turned your TP into a robe is downright charming.

Regardless of the brand you use, the most luxurious toilet paper doesn’t come from trees.

Whenever I run out of toilet paper, I do what you do, with my shorts around my ankles I hobble to the kitchen, tear off a paper towel, and return to the John with a grin knowing I’ve just cheated fate.

But last Saturday, not only was I out of toilet paper, but paper towels too.

I was so SOL.

I sat there on the toilet in deep thought like a scientist contemplating a metaphysical conundrum, wondering how I could resolve this dilemma without ruining a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, and then it struck me:

My roommate has a loaf of wonder bread and has gleefully ignored my incessant pleas that it’s absolutely unhealthy and not befitting the name bread.

There’s got to be a better use for that stuff than eating it, you know?

I wondered if a couple slices of wonder bread could wipe away my remnants, effectively wiping away my dilemma.

Consider… when you’re making a P&J sandwich, peanut butter spreads beautifully onto white fluff. If Wonder Bread can take peanut butter with ease, surely it could handle some feces spread.

I hobbled to the kitchen, grabbed the wonder bread package from the pantry knowing I was doing my roomie a huge favor, hobbled back, opened it up, took a slice out, and gracefully wiped my behind as if this action was being scored by a panel of judges for style (I was super graceful).

After the wipe concluded I took a careful look at the bread and a howl of elation erupted from me realizing how well it worked. My howl was like the screams of jubilation from mission control when Apollo 13 successfully landed. Not only did I discover a new use for bread, but this was the softest “toilet paper” I’ve ever experienced. It absorbed the remnants beautifully, and easily solved my uncomfortable dilemma. If Brazil is so brazen to use sugar cane to fuel cars, then I’ll sure as hell take the liberty to use bread for TP.

Can I get an amen?

If you ever get a chance to visit me for tea and nature calls, you’ll notice that instead of toilet paper hanging on the wall, I got a bundle of wonder bread packages beside my toilet.

Edible toilet paper never felt so good.

p.s. – you’re always welcome to have tea with me

February 14th was turning out to be the best Valentine’s of my life.

I had a ridiculously hot date.

She was perfect without a single blemish.

And the best part, she loved hearing me talk. I could yap for hours and the only expression her face would elicit was a beautiful smile that was seemingly permanent.

I made Sheila and I a reservation at Kagaya restaurant for our Valentine’s dinner.

Walking in the maitre d’ greeted me with a bright smile, but glanced over at my date and gave an expression like he just chocked on a piece of raw salmon that unexpectedly manifested in his throat.

Excuse me sir, what the hell is that?

Sir, that’s my date… what does it look like, I said irritated.

I’m sorry sir, but we don’t allow mannequins on the premises. If you want to eat here, you’ll have to leave it outside in your trunk.

Blood started rushing up my body like I was a volcano moments before erupting and flattening a small, helpless village.

Just before erupting, I glanced over at my Sheila looking at her innocent soft face and emerald eyes which made my heart turn to jello and then decided not to do something I’d regret. I didn’t want to embarrass her on this special night, and I don’t have the best track record when it comes to the fuzz.

Gathering my composure I said to the maitre d’, Look… this is my date, I made a reservation, and if you want Shirley and me to leave you’re going to have to take us out by your bare hands because we aren’t budging.

He didn’t say a word and I could tell the seriousness on my face left an impression on him.

* * *

Maitre d’ calls the owner not knowing what to do

Sir, yeah, we got a situation here… there’s a man with a mannequin claiming “she’s” his lover. He wants to eat dinner with her.

Does he have money to pay for her?

Yes, all 75 dollars.

Let him in.

But sir…

Let him in Staniel! Stick him in the corner.

Look, I’ve got a mortgage to pay and oil’s going through the f*cking roof. And please, don’t call me while I’m taking time in the tub and enjoying a cigar with your petty crap for crying out loud!

Call me again with a nothing problem and you’re outta here. You got that?!

Yes sir.

* * *
I noticed the maitre d’ hang up the phone. He looked at me and Sheila as if he was just told he had to kick his own mother in the stomach and said begrudgingly, “please follow me sir.”

I and Sheila walked through this dimly lit restaurant… Amazingly, it was as if every table we passed couldn’t help but look at us. I knew Sheila was gorgeous, but never in my life did I have a woman who literally caused not only both sexes to turn heads, but even small children too.

As we sat down, he asked me what I wanted. I ordered the assorted tempura with the sushi boat.

He didn’t ask Sheila what she wanted, which I expected, since this guy’s demonstrated he’s an absolute ass with zero manners, probably abused as a child.

I cleared my throat and said, “Sheila will have the ramen noodles and grilled snapper.”

I and Sheila sat there sipping our tea lovingly gazing into each other’s eyes as if we were the only two people in the universe.

I started telling her my hopes and dreams over our candle lit dinner… How I recently became a contributing author for Daily Blog Tips. She was really impressed with that.

I also told her how my site Tick Tock Timer was currently ranked sixth on Google for my desired search phrase ,online timer, and that impressed her so much she just sat there speechless looking lovingly into my eyes as if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.

We were simply made for each other.

Just as the waiter was bringing our food to the table two cops busted onto the scene. Because of my history with the fuzz… I kept my head down and just tried to eat my food, not attracting attention to myself. But as if I was abducted as a little boy by aliens and had a fuzz magnet implanted into my left butt cheek, the two coppers came my way and stopped at my table.

Hi, are you Bamboo Forest?

umm… Yes.

You’re under arrest.

I roared, THIS IS AMERICA… YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME… I’M BAMBOO FOREST!…

I then quickly buried my head into my hands, devastated, having the greatest night of my life get destroyed because of two men dressed in blue who wanted to wreck a perfect thing.

Sir, if you want to eat dinner with a mannequin you’re perfectly welcome to do so even though we think it’s sick and you’re mentally deranged.

But this mannequin is the property of Dillards, you stole it, we have you on the security camera and you’re under arrest.

In fact, you’ve stolen 12 mannequins in the past month alone.

Someone alerted us that the mannequin bandit that’s been showing on the news from security cameras was here.

We’re taking you in.

He then went onto give me my Miranda warning which I could have told the copper backwards after a round of drinks.

All I could do was burry my head in my hands feeling like I’ve been cursed never to have success with love.

Truth is, this was utter nonsense.

How could anyone equate the search for love with theft?!

And besides, I knew in my heart that Sheila was my soul mate… the others were too short. That no other woman could ever give me what she did. And, to be perfectly honest, that no other woman could ever be the kind of mother that I knew she would be to the kids I dreamed of having with her.

My heart felt like it was teared apart like a pizza pie from a pack of hungry frat kids at 3 A.M. on a Saturday night. I concluded I’m just not made for love.

I decided to plead insanity even though you know just as well as I that there’s no way in hell I’m insane. I mean, I’m a life coach for crying out loud.

Sigh.

To my readers who stick with me no matter what happens in my life… even when injustices rain upon me like a hail storm from hell, I salute you.

To the haters out there? Keep coming to PI, I really need the traffic, and don’t mind your hate filled mind.

Yours truly,

Bamboo Forest