Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Hot Dinosaur Sex

or: This is my brain when it's not on drugs
(Scary thought, huh?)

Interesting that this throwaway phrase spawned so much commentary. Y'all are just *obsessive*! That's all I have to say. I guess I should explain myself a bit so there's no confusion in the future and/or no misconceptions.

Here's the 411, straight from the eohippus's mouth:

However, I dunno whether I should begin by explaining my original concept or by responding to the assumptions/guesses posted about this phrase. Ok, I think I'll first discuss my mental state and conceptualizations when I spoke the phrase. Then, I'll respond to your helpful, kind, supportive, inquisitive comments. [You freaks! – Oh, did I actually type that? Sorry.]

First, my conceptualization has/had nothing to do with either my age or the fact that dinos are now just static, rock-hard bones. In my thoughts, dinos are alive, vibrant, and as active as any animal in today's world. I guess that's actually technically true cuz birds are really just one class (order?) of dinosaurs so there are furiously active dinosaurs outside my window as I type. Hiya, guys! Had any hot sex lately?

Many dinosaur species were, as the original paleontologists imagined them, warm-blooded, active, energetic animals who filled every significant niche in their day. So where did that lameass sluggish-reptile concept come from? Dumbshit Victorians, of course. The Victorians, completely inaccurately, imposed their sociological weltanschauung on the conceptualization of these magnificent creatures. Victorians believed that, generally speaking, there was a divinely-mandated continuous improvement in everything, including which species ruled the earth. They therefore imposed the *necessity* of slow, stupid, cold-bloodedness on the dinosaurs because they were the temporal predecessors of us mammals. After all, we mammals totally replaced those icky old dinosaurs, didn't we? Therefore, we wonderful, warm-blooded, divinely-mandated miracles must have been replacing some silly, old, low-IQ reptilian dumbasses.

Unfortunately, this concept had no congruence with reality. Before the age of dinos there were protodinosaurs and protomammals and they were pretty equally represented on the good earth. The protodinosaurs proceeded to COMPLETELY beat out the protomammals for all the good niches. That's why there were only small, timid mammals during the age of dinos! Not because we mammals were just coming into our own as the dinos were sinking into senescence but because the protodinos beat the shit out of the protomammals in the competition for niches. Period. The only niches mammals were capable of surviving in were the insignificant ones.

Mammals got their opportunity to take over when the dinos were completely wiped out. And not because of competitive pressure from mammals. Oh no, dear readers. External causes. Or internal. Take your pick. Most folks these days like the meteor theory. Whatever the cause, an open, significantly uncompetitive world is what allowed mammals to take over all the cool niches, not the mammals' own competitive capabilities.

I find it utterly fascinating that the Victorians relied on their concept of Christianity as a cornerstone for the idea of consistent improvement in all things while present-day YECs try to shoehorn biology into compliance with the second law of thermodynamics [Hint – It doesn't fit. You must acquit!] because of their concept of Christianity which requires that everything, especially good ol' biological humanity, is wearing out and becoming less robust than it used to be because of our fall from grace and expulsion from the garden of Eden, where the dinosaurs no doubt roamed as free as the birds they would one day become, although YECs would naturally deny the possibility of such evolution, and the deer and the antelope played and where the only discouraging word was from the YECs' version of daddy Tetragrammaton bullying his children about what they could and could not eat. Sheesh! Obviously He was not an unschooler.

Where was I? Oh yeah…

So when I think "dinosaur" I'm thinking fast, agile, powerful, ruler of all he surveys, dominant, majestic, regal, intelligent, etc. And such an august creature would transcend mere pedestrian seasonal coupling. He would engage in something ever so much more transcendent, so magnificent, so nonpareil, it could only be

HOT DINOSAUR SEX aka HDS

Q.E.D.

Specific responses to specific comments follow the following comments:(Follow me?)

Scott said...
I guess Frank got his birthday wish.
Linda said...
The girls actually know you have sex? Wow, good for you. I'm still not even sure whether my parents have ever had sex.
Just out of curiosity... uh, dinosaur sex?
Ronnie said...
Scott - No comment. :-)
Linda, actually what struck me was the hot dinosaur sex. That's Frank, always aiming high.
Scott said...
Has something to do with old bones doesn't it?
Linda said...
Yeah, it took me a while to make the connection, which I will say in my defense was because I don't consider you and Frank to be exactly old. ;)
Stephanie said...
How sweetly Jurassic! You're not going to lay eggs now, are you?! ;-)
Zenmomma said...
I now have images in my head that will probably never go away. :-o

So my general explanation above should have quelled any assumption that HDS has any relationship to agedness, in any respect, in my conceptualization as creator of the phrase. As the reader, you of course are free to impose any interpretation you can imagine. Enjoy. Besides, while I may be getting up there, Ronnie is certainly nowhere close to old. Bones as hard as rocks is an image which seems to me to go with this thought scheme; but, again, that was not something I originally conceived or pursued.

To Zenmomma: Darlin', you're the one who read the phrase "overpriced brake job" and found it to be prurient. I am, therefore, absolutely certain that your imagination could go to fascinating places with "hot dinosaur sex." Enjoy the adventure in the convoluted depths of your right brain! I'd kinda like to be a pair of eyes peering over your mental shoulder for that one! Or at least watching on an fMRI.

To Steph: Actually your comment spins my brain in an interesting direction. When I was a kid, one of my favorite series was Edgar Rice Burroughs' Mars books. (ERB is the guy who wrote the Tarzan books.) I identified significantly with John Carter. He was uncomfortable in Earth society, an excellent swordsman, and completely inept around women; but what's important to this discussion is this: When he winds up on Mars, aka Barsoom, he eventually hooks up with Deja Thoris, princess of the kingdom of Helium. Now, Deja is a member of the "red Martian" race and the way they express their commitment is for the guy to call the girl "my princess" and for the girl to call the guy "my chieftant." Ain't dat sweet? But more to the point of your comment, they lay eggs! So, who knows? Maybe if Ronnie (my princess!) has some red Martian blood in her our next child might be born from an egg.

Could happen. Maybe it doesn't even take Barsoomian DNA. Look at Castor and Pollux, born from (You guessed it!) an egg hatched by Leda after Zeus "visited" her as a swan. Hey! Waitaminit! Let's follow that thought to its logical conclusion. If birds are dinosaurs and Zeus was a bird (dinosaur) then he and Leda were actually having HDS! Wow! Classically awesome!

Furthermore, Ronnie is at least as desirable as Leda and I hope I'm as divine as a freaking swan. Nasty creatures. And we have HDS; therefore, it gets more possible with each passing sentence that we could maybe, possibly reproduce oviparously. Dude! That's so cool!

When Zeus, incarnate as an ostensibly preternatural and otherworldly-looking cygnoid, was searching for her, I wonder if he demanded of the locals, "Take me to your Leda!"

At this point, I desperately wanna work in a joke about "Leda-hosen" but that might be over the top. Whatcha think?

There's a movie due out 2012ish, working title "John Carter of Mars." I do NOT have high expectations. I admit I do have high hopes.


John and Deja look like they're ready for some egg-producing HDS, don't they?

I'll leave you with one, final twist. In the late '80s, Dr. Robert Bakker wrote a book called "The Dinosaur Heresies" in which he proposed this thought experiment. Some pterodactyls (specifically pterodaustro) occupied a niche similar to that occupied by present-day flamingos. Flamingos are pink because of their diet. Pteros ate a similar diet. Therefore,

she's a witch! BURN HER!!!!

Sorry. Terribly sorry. I seem to have somehow accidentally jumped proofs and used a deduction from an entirely different set of axioms. Maybe it was the heresy bit that confused me. Or something. I dunno. Here's where I meant to go:

Therefore, is it not possible, or even likely, that pteros might also have been pink? Imagine standing at sunset on a West-facing beach under a Cretaceous sky the color of a perfectly-prepared tequila sunset cocktail as a flock of exquisite pink terries swoops by! Beautiful enough to make you cry.

Thus we add the variant HOT PINK DINOSAUR SEX aka HPDS. And with the flying connection, I'm thinking HPDS mile-high club, huh? Oh yeah!

So whether you prefer HDS or HPDS, I hope that now you're all satisfied. I know I am!

6 comments:

  1. It must be so much fun to live with you. And tiring. And mind you, I'm not just saying that because of the hot dinosaur sex.

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  2. Well, I left a comment on Ronnie's post and said that, after reading this here explication, I do feel like a slow, stupid, sluggish, lameass Victorian. All I can hope for in my pitiful reliance on the idea of consistent improvement in all things is that my progeny will one day be able to grasp Frank's concepts.

    For the rest of the day, my mind will be crowded with images of swans and flamingos and hot-pink dinosaurs and lederhosen and Queen Victoria. I won't be able to see a birdy without wondering about his sex life. In short, I believe I have been traumatized by this whole HDS business.

    I gotta go find myself some dumb people's blogs to frequent ...

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  3. Hi, Linda. I hope I'm fun at least some of the time. I dunno about tiring. I'm really a very passive, quiet person. I'm often surrounded by serenity... well, when we get in a Firefly mood and watch the movie Serenity after we've finished watching all the episodes in the series.

    Hi, Laura. The stuff I post here is not really non-dumb. It's just a strange conglomerate that wells up from my subconscious, like when a dredge cuts through a Louisiana bayou which has been collecting debris for millennia. The dredge churns it up and it mixes randomly in unexpected and often nonsensical ways. Stream of consciousness blather or in my case, dredged bayou of subconsciousness maundering.

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  4. P.S. Laura, I don't see a comment from you on Ronnie's blog. Did you make it to her "V" post where this whole HDS thing started or on a more recent post? Did it maybe not register or something?

    Color me curious.

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  5. I just checked, and it's not there. Hmm. I was commenting early this morning, still sleepy. Wonder if I commented on the wrong post? I'll poke around looking a bit, then try to remember what I wrote if I can't find it. Although I'm sure my original comment was much more profound and eloquent than anything I might come up with at this point ... sigh. Yeah.

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  6. "when we get in a Firefly mood and watch the movie Serenity"

    We've just been watching the Firefly series this past week and really enjoying it. I didn't know there was a movie too, I have to go run and tell Scott now! Woo!

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