Hmmm.

There’s a Tyrannosaurus Rex standing outside my window. At least, I think there is. It’s too big for me to see it’s whole body through the window at one time, and I don’t have my dinosaur field-guide in my desk drawer. It could be something else, and it would probably be mightily pissed off to know that I just assumed it’s a Rex without actually checking. There could have been any number of dinosaurs that looked just like Tyrannosaurus Rex but because some stupid paleontologist decided to latch the Latin word for ‘king’ to the end of its name, the Rex has become famous beyond it’s worth or abilities.

It’s like the Paris Hilton of dinosaurs. There were probably other carnivorous dinos that could outfight, outrun and out-eat the Rex, but unfortunately they will, for the most part, be consigned to dusty books and memory. The Rex meanwhile, will continue to dominate stage and screen, appearing in all sorts of media and occupying a prime position in social communication as the very definition of power, danger, rapaciousness and tiny-forleggedness.

Oh. The one outside my window just ate the next-door neighbour’s 6-year old.

Good.