In the film “Jurassic Park,” when the T-Rex attacks the car, one of the two children trapped alone inside frantically – and I mean frantically – searches about for a flashlight, yes, a flashlight, because it goes without saying that, when attacked by a T-Rex, it most certainly helps to have one handy.
Upon finding it, the girl hurriedly turns it on and points it directly into the ornery beast’s massive eye, surely filmdom’s equivalent of clanging the triangle on a cattle drive and yelling “Come and get yer grub, fellas!!!” As it dawns upon their feeble minds that they are in fact drawing attention to themselves, the boy – lesser idiot of the two – repeatedly implores her to turn the light off, an act which, while involving the same simple flicking of a switch, is evidently rendered infinitely more difficult than was turning it on, as the girl simply cannot turn the flashlight off.
It is with only the wispiest guilt that I confess: Never have I wanted to see two children devoured whole as I did in that moment. Alas, only the lawyer was downed like a toothpick-skewered olive, ignominiously perched as he was atop the porcelain throne.
BILL
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