We Are Rantasaurus Rex, Hear Us Roar

SmallClutching, not a fan of modesty

Roland Emmerich was the only man that could have directed ‘Independence Day’, likewise only Kubric could have made ‘Clockwork Orange’ and Sellers was the only man capable of pulling off ‘Dr. Strangelove’.

But if they made a movie about my cock, there would be only one team of professionals worthy of helming the massive project – N.A.S.A.

The scale would be enormous. Lucas’s THX sound would not suffice, because the deep thrombing sub-bass level bass deep noises my shlong makes would take a new advance in delivery only a team of approximately
340,000 Harvard trained scientists could muster.

The visuals, of course, would be presented digitally, no finer definition would deliver the full levels of colour and vibrancy expected by an eager public awaiting visual presentation of such a monolithic slice of shaft.

Puny Meg-naplex 3300 screens would have to be significantly rescaled to contain the full breadths of my pulsating member, anomorphic enhancement would be impossible. It would have to be presented in true scale – and this in itself would present a delivery problem on a scale with the virgin birth of Christ.

The narration would call for a voice on the level of James Earl Jones – James could deftly explain the nuances of my cock to a frightened audience, explaining the history of a shaft so significant that it defies the Gausian curve and makes play with prior theories of physics and geography – yes geography!

The news coverage would be global, the premier attended by royalty, presidents and leaders from all nations. There would be visits by beings from other planets – initially questioning the time delay in their satellite transmissions from Earth – but later realising that the problems were due to a tear in the fabric of time from my morning wood.

Box office chaos would bankrupt many smaller countries- causing massive bans and censorship leading to widespread world wars, famine and poverty, as the 3rd world saved up to buy tickets to see my cock on screen.

But, at the end of it all, standing in the smoking ruins of the planet, all peoples would come together in the shadow and feel a sense of pride and hope at winessing one of the miracles of the universe gliding across their skylines. All hail the collosal serpent. The tattoo on it’s monster head reads…

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom… know what is enough until we know what is more than enough.”

William Blake

Rantasaurus Says: I’m sorry, but I think this is absolutely fucking hilarious. We need more rants like this folks. This is comic gold.