Look kids, I know that you really, really want your Jurassic Park T. Rex to be “real” in your bone-headed, made-up war on “Fluffy Dinosaurs.” Nostalgia has blinded every generation from accepting new information on dinosaurs, from dragging tails to scaly skin. Paleontology isn’t as cut-and-dry as the movie monsters that we’ve made dinosaurs into (and yes, I love movie monster dinos. But that’s all they are: movie monsters) and people need to stop sharing error-riddled articles and all those stupid fucking blog posts claiming “victory” over something they don’t understand because an arbitrarily designated “King of the dinosaurs” (disclaimer: still my favorite dino) didn’t look like their Playskool toys from when they were 5.
So he can grow up and build one of those giant Chinese apartment buildings in the middle of nowhere where nobody lives. Because what good is a toy if it doesn’t prepare you for the absurdities of adulthood.