I Am Tyrannosaurus Rex

Summary

The Cretaceous dinosaur Tyrannosaurus Rex expresses frustration with humans for misrepresenting its nature and attaching a negative political connotation to its name, while also criticizing humanity's destructive impact on Earth.

Abstract

In an articulate rant from beyond the ages, Tyrannosaurus Rex addresses humanity's portrayal of its species as a symbol of tyranny and villainy, particularly in popular media. The dinosaur argues that the name 'Tyrannosaurus Rex' is a misnomer that does not reflect its true nature, as it implies a connection to human forms of governance and negative historical figures, which is both inaccurate and insulting. T. Rex points out the irony in being called a 'tyrant' while humans, who have caused significant environmental harm in a relatively short period, have not lived up to their self-ascribed role as stewards of the planet. The dinosaur also takes issue with the casual abbreviation of its name to 'T. Rex,' suggesting it implies an unwarranted familiarity and disrespects its true significance.

Opinions

T. Rex feels misrepresented and unfairly vilified by humans, particularly in films like Jurassic Park.
The dinosaur believes the name 'Tyrannosaurus Rex' is a poor metaphor that inaccurately associates it with human political concepts like tyranny.
T. Rex is critical of humanity's destructive environmental impact, contrasting its own existence with the short-lived and harmful tenure of humans on Earth.
The dinosaur expresses disdain for the abbreviation 'T. Rex,' viewing it as a sign of disrespect and overfamiliarity.
T. Rex accuses humans of projecting their own dark desires for dominance onto it, suggesting that the dinosaur's portrayal in human culture reveals more about human nature than about the dinosaur itself.

And this is bullshit

So, humans, let me ask — What have I ever done to you? No, seriously, you’ve cast me as the villain in your nightmares, and also as some premier TV anti-hero sociopath admired by all. You’ve played me up like a first tier wrestling heel, terrifying and entertaining, but doomed to defeat at the hands of whichever primate could bring in the most box office. And in Jurassic Park — well, let’s just say, you may fuck yourself sideways, Spielberg.

Okay. Okay. Never mind. My point is not Spielberg. The paleontological failings of 20th century cinema are a book that could write itself. Yes, it would be amusing to troll such ground, maybe even a fun, clickbait-y list for the glitterati. But my grievances are more fundamental.

It’s this name, Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I don’t think you humans understand how metaphors work. A metaphor uses two unlike things to amplify the salient qualities that they share. A metaphor is a thing that is not the thing. “It’s raining cats and dogs!” Or, “His fist is a pile driver!” Or, “I drank so much! I’m dead this morning.”

So, when you call me Tyrannosaurus Rex I can see you’re trying to make some kind of point about me. And I also sense that you think you’re being complimentary. Which is weird. Seriously. It is weird how much you say you love me. Kids love me! There are Halloween costumes of me marketed as “cute” or even “sexy.” But I’m a tyrant king?

What other tyrants do the kids love? Caligula? Fucked his sister. Murdered indiscriminately. Utterly insane. Leopold II? Enslaved and tortured the Congolese at a massive scale. Ceaușescu? Mao? Hitler? Stalin? Pinochet? Pol Pot? Is there a “sexy Milošević” costume this year?

And me? This is supposed to make me feel good? To feel cool? Like, “I’m so fierce and mighty! I bite things! I kill with impunity! All things fear me! RRRRRAAAaaAaaRRRrrrr!”

I guarantee, sir or madam, that this does not make me feel cool. By which I mean to say — to all the popular paleontologists out there making bank on my cinematic ferocity — you may fuck yourselves sideways.

I mean, on the one hand, the analogy doesn’t even hold up. My species was the largest of the carnivorous dinosaurs 65,000,000 years ago during the Cretaceous — not Jurassic — Period in areas of North America and China. In no way did we resemble any form of human governing principle. The Tyrannosaurs were not a republic, a monarchy, or a syndicalist collective. We certainly weren’t kleptocratic, psychopathological autocrats, as is implied by the word, “tyrant.”

Never once did the Tyrannosaurs undermine liberal democratic norms to undo a legally elected governing body. Never once did we use mass media and widespread propaganda to bewail our grievances, tagging scapegoats, and directing the dudgeon of our followers against those with darker skin. Never once did we invoke “The Big Lie,” or any lie.

Yeah, in 24,000,000 years of existence, zero lies.

And you, a hairless ape who’s just a blip on the geological time scale. 10,000 years. You are children. In 10,000 years you’ve taken the planet out of the Goldilocks Zone, engineering your own demise. Your only response is, “Well, I guess we’ve had a good run. What’re you gonna do?” A good run? You haven’t even had a good crawl. You haven’t even managed to take a healthy shit — all of your shits are manifestly unhealthy.

But then you go a step further.

After attaching a malignant, horrific identity to a creature — me — that has done you no harm, and could never possibly have done you harm, you further diminish that creature — me — by assuming an untoward and unearned familiarity. I am Tyrannosaurus Rex, you tell me, but you will call me T. Rex?

A bit forward. Don’t you think? Are we friends? We are not friends. We don’t do those things that friends do. Get a beer together. Do up each others’ hair. Are we close acquaintances, then, or colleagues? No. We’ve never completed a project together, or shared a few kind words at the bus stop.

You, to me, are nothing. A post mortem annoyance. Humanitas nihil. I, to you, am a symbol, deployed in a way for you to justify your depraved id. You’ve invented me as a dinosauric bully so that you may relish in imagined cruelty that only you desire. I am neither a tyrant nor a king and your insistence in naming me as such says less about me then it does about your barely latent yearning for a brutal, species-ist, carnivocracy.

It is, in other words, complete bullshit, and you may fuck yourself sideways.

A Cretaceous Rant

I Am Tyrannosaurus Rex

And this is bullshit