I guess theoretically I’m supposed to like Komodo Dragons. They’re beady-eyed giant lizards with formidable claws, which is really a rather wonderful thing to be. And okay, so they might a little frightening, but that’s not so inappropriate seeing as they are beady-eyed giant lizards with formidable claws. And yet, they’ve managed to really grate on me. It’s not so much their nauseating penchant for a three-day-old corpse, and it’s not that they are sometimes-people-killers. People are mostly gross anyway. It’s just that they seem to have this lame identity crisis going on, and it’s totally getting worse.
That’s right, Komodo Dragon, I’m talking about the dinosaur thing. Yes, that. Is it not enough that you already have “the most complex (venom) duct system described in reptiles to date,”? Apparently not, because first you demand your own island à la Jurassic Park, and now you’ve decided to run around terrorising its humans, marching into offices and tearing shit up like you own the place, à la Jurassic Park. I mean, I get it, Komodo Dragon, if some startled ranger threw a useless wad of notepaper in my general direction as I burst through the door unannounced only to watch him stumble about in a desperate panic and shove a clumsy foot in the waste paper basket containing an ill-considered half-bottle of discarded orange juice, I’d get a serious case of the giggles too. And if he starts crying because he’s realised you’re not there to complain about the state of the lavatory unit (which to be fair is actually quite good considering the average standard of island lavatories these days), well that’s all the more hilarious.
But let’s face it, Komodo Dragon, it’s just so played. Get your own freaking gimmick and stop trying to eat the plucky island children. Unless of course someone is there to document your apt utilisation of multiple oral venom ducts to expedite the bleeding and paralyze the nervous system, Komodo Dragon. Then by all means…