John McNee’s Reviews > DangerRAMA > Status Update

"Mr Schaffer, I implore you. We must stay within the radian of the nexus or else the consequences will surely be dire."
"Speak English, you douche," he says.
"We must stay within the radian of the nexus," I repeat. "I don't know how I can be any clearer than that."

"Circumstance doesn't preclude me from greatness, does it? I mean, that's the part of the Bible that no one ever talks about. Jesus never chose to be Jesus, after all. He was just born one."

"Holy crap!" someone shrieks, "I can't believe you just shot Will Smith!"
"What-fuckin'-ever, bitch," replies Bin-Laden.

"Now listen up, you ungrateful twits, I wasn't born with a silver spoon up my ass like you over-privileged little shits were. Mommy and daddy didn't pay for me to go to 'art school' to pursue my dream of becoming a 'liberal heathen' or a 'pretentious hipster douche' or whatever it is you're majoring in. No, in West Philadelphia I was born and raised, okay? On a playground is where I spent most of my days."

I woke up one morning to find myself waist-deep in a lobster tank at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Somehow, in my slumber, I had earned a college degree, landed a job interview, got hired as the head biologist in residence and began my first day of work there. And while I spent a good portion of that peculiar day manually masturbating one very sexually jaded lobster, I did manage to pick up a thing or two.

No good conversation ever began with the words, "I'm not who you think I am..."

"I just don't see how we'll reach the summit in time. That is, unless some sort of gondola lift has somehow magically appeared in your handbag. Has a gondola lift magically appeared in your handbag?"
"Maybe," she lights up.
She sticks her arm elbow-deep into her purse and pulls out a handful of Madagascar hissing cockroaches.
"Nope," she says, "just these terrifying insects."

The T-Rex lands back on the tar-pit's shore, but his balance has been thrown off by the thrashing winged creature in his jaws. He rears up on one foot, perilously hovering over the molten black soup. His tiny arms futilely flail as he falls.
"Oh shizzz! WestKoastDinoZKrew-4-Eva!" are the T-Rex's last words before he splashes, headfirst, into the tar.

"Mr Schaffer, I implore you. We must stay within the radian of the nexus or else the consequences will surely be dire."
"Speak English, you douche," he says.
"We must stay within the radian of the nexus," I repeat. "I don't know how I can be any clearer than that."