Who Will Save The Dying Bananas?

We’re living in desperate times. A crisis of almost unprecedented importance faces us as a nation, and as a world.

Soon we will be forced to take action, whether we like it or not. I am speaking of course about the possible extinction of the banana.

Recently, Reuters ran an article reporting a claim by Emile Frison, a Belgian plant pathologist, that the banana could face extinction in 10 years.

And if you’re thinking that this is just another claim by a Belgian plant pathologist who’s desperate for attention, think again. Frison has already achieved a level of celebrity that would make the illegitimate love child of Tom Hanks and Ben Affleck blush, as he’s the head of the famed International Network for the Improvement of Banana and Plantain (based in Montpellier, France).

Apparently the banana’s problem is lack of genetic diversity. Translated for the non-educated collegiate crowd, that means the banana hasn’t gotten laid in awhile, and when it has, it’s been sleeping with its sister. Which is odd, because I would think a fruit that ranks so high on my List of Fruits That Could Closely Resemble a Penis Under Certain Lighting Conditions would be able to get all the action it wants.

Oddly enough, the long, thick and strapping variety consumed by people is sterile, while it’s smaller, geekier cousin gets all the action.

The article fails to mention those who might suffer from a lack of bananas:

Those who depend on the banana as a food source.

Produce companies.

Carmen Miranda’s hat.

Monkeys.

My roommate, who “loves bananas.”

Freaks who collect banana peel stickers.

I wished to learn more about this problem, but had trouble finding a proper authority. So, as I generally do when faced with a question or problem I can’t answer, I called my dad.

Unfortunately he wasn’t home, but my mom was, so I asked her what she thought of the banana’s doom: “Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know every time I buy you kids bananas, you never eat the last one and it just goes to waste.” Oh, that mother of mine. Always bitching about us damn kids.

I did finally track down my dad. He said, “Scott, I’m at work. You know I’m busy, supporting your college education I might add, and you’re calling me about bananas? Don’t you have homework to do?”

I reminded him about my strict “No Homework” policy regarding homework, which just led to yelling and more yelling.

It’s weird, he usually only gets this cranky around tuition payment time. Or when he’s reminded that I majored in media studies with a focus on film and not a real degree, like industrial engineering or turf management.

Anyway, screw him. He’s not the boss of me. Just for this, I’m going to downgrade his rest home again. Hope he doesn’t mind sharing a room with syphilitic lepers in Mexico who prefer Leno.

Frison says genetic manipulation might be the only hope for the banana. So I got to thinking (it happens occasionally), if we’re going to engineer the banana to survive, we might as well add a few other improvements.

First off, what’s up with the yellow? I took an informal survey of people who are myself and we decided that we’d be 427 percent more likely to buy bananas if they were blue with orange stripes, like my favorite shirt.

Also, some sort of anti-slip protection should be added. Too many cartoon characters suffer every year from constant banana peel slippage.

And finally, what about the monkeys? The entirety of monkey society is based on the banana. Without bananas, I honestly don’t know what to say the monkey won’t do.

Though most likely they will overrun our cities, kill our leaders, take our women, and masturbate publicly. Which will be both terrifying and hilarious.

Somebody needs to work this problem like, well, like a monkey works a banana. And if the monkeys do take our women, I just have one thing to say: “Yeah monkey, get some!”

Also, if any of you attempt to rectify this problem by breeding bananas yourself, please remember to wear a condom.

Originally published in The Daily Collegian.

We’re living in desperate times. A crisis of almost unprecedented importance faces us as a nation, and as a world.

Soon we will be forced to take action, whether we like it or not. I am speaking of course about the possible extinction of the banana.

Recently, Reuters ran an article reporting a claim by Emile Frison, a Belgian plant pathologist, that the banana could face extinction in 10 years.

And if you’re thinking that this is just another claim by a Belgian plant pathologist who’s desperate for attention, think again. Frison has already achieved a level of celebrity that would make the illegitimate love child of Tom Hanks and Ben Affleck blush, as he’s the head of the famed International Network for the Improvement of Banana and Plantain (based in Montpellier, France).

Apparently the banana’s problem is lack of genetic diversity. Translated for the non-educated collegiate crowd, that means the banana hasn’t gotten laid in awhile, and when it has, it’s been sleeping with its sister. Which is odd, because I would think a fruit that ranks so high on my List of Fruits That Could Closely Resemble a Penis Under Certain Lighting Conditions would be able to get all the action it wants.

Oddly enough, the long, thick and strapping variety consumed by people is sterile, while it’s smaller, geekier cousin gets all the action.

The article fails to mention those who might suffer from a lack of bananas:

Those who depend on the banana as a food source.

Produce companies.

Carmen Miranda’s hat.

Monkeys.

My roommate, who “loves bananas.”

Freaks who collect banana peel stickers.

I wished to learn more about this problem, but had trouble finding a proper authority. So, as I generally do when faced with a question or problem I can’t answer, I called my dad.

Unfortunately he wasn’t home, but my mom was, so I asked her what she thought of the banana’s doom: “Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know every time I buy you kids bananas, you never eat the last one and it just goes to waste.” Oh, that mother of mine. Always bitching about us damn kids.

I did finally track down my dad. He said, “Scott, I’m at work. You know I’m busy, supporting your college education I might add, and you’re calling me about bananas? Don’t you have homework to do?”

I reminded him about my strict “No Homework” policy regarding homework, which just led to yelling and more yelling.

It’s weird, he usually only gets this cranky around tuition payment time. Or when he’s reminded that I majored in media studies with a focus on film and not a real degree, like industrial engineering or turf management.

Anyway, screw him. He’s not the boss of me. Just for this, I’m going to downgrade his rest home again. Hope he doesn’t mind sharing a room with syphilitic lepers in Mexico who prefer Leno.

Frison says genetic manipulation might be the only hope for the banana. So I got to thinking (it happens occasionally), if we’re going to engineer the banana to survive, we might as well add a few other improvements.

First off, what’s up with the yellow? I took an informal survey of people who are myself and we decided that we’d be 427 percent more likely to buy bananas if they were blue with orange stripes, like my favorite shirt.

Also, some sort of anti-slip protection should be added. Too many cartoon characters suffer every year from constant banana peel slippage.

And finally, what about the monkeys? The entirety of monkey society is based on the banana. Without bananas, I honestly don’t know what to say the monkey won’t do.

Though most likely they will overrun our cities, kill our leaders, take our women, and masturbate publicly. Which will be both terrifying and hilarious.

Somebody needs to work this problem like, well, like a monkey works a banana. And if the monkeys do take our women, I just have one thing to say: “Yeah monkey, get some!”

Also, if any of you attempt to rectify this problem by breeding bananas yourself, please remember to wear a condom.

Originally published in The Daily Collegian.

# 2003 Jan 31