I can recount just about every line from “Jurassic Park.” I’m not sure why, and I can’t help but feel like there are other, more important things for which I could use this space in my brain. For example, I would find it particularly helpful if I could remember to pay my credit card bill before the due date, set my alarm every night or get my mom something for her birthday.
I’ve been blessed with the gift of being able to recite Ian Malcolm quotes, imitate Mr. DNA with remarkable fidelity and remember eerily specific details about the film (such as how Dr. Harding drives a gas-powered Jeep, which is bafflingly stupid in and of itself).
So, I embrace my gift. I walk around whisper-yelling “shoot her, shooooot her” and telling stories about how some west African frogs have been known to spontaneously change sex in a single-sex environment. (Come to think of it, I think I actually have an aunt who spontaneously sprouted a penis after a long weekend with her female friends. Life finds a way.)
I also accept this gift because it could be worse; I could remember every line to “Batman & Robin,” and in that case I would have to contemplate Washington state’s death with dignity options.
All in all, 1993’s “Jurassic Park” is one of the most memorable films to hit theaters in the last 25 years. Although most of the dinosaurs were puppets, they looked pretty dang real, and with a T-Rex eating people off toilets, you really can’t go wrong.
All of this is in spite of the fact that Steven Spielberg ruined everything the original film stood for when he directed 1997’s botched version of “The Lost World.”
Then, just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse, Spielberg served as an executive producer for “Jurassic Park III.” The movie literally had no plot, although it did feature William H. Macy and Sam Neill playing lots of grab-ass on an island filled with dinosaurs.
I only wish we could have seen a T-Rex rip Macy to shreds. In that case, I’d have given it a thumbs-up, mostly because I can’t stand his name. It makes him sound like a pretentious douche bag.
Still, I find myself wondering how I ended up able to remember all the dialogue from “Jurassic Park,” and if there is some way I could market my gift and get somebody to pay me for it. I can’t help but think I’d be the perfect inspirational speaker at a high school.
I guess it’s possible that the origin of my abilities comes from watching the movie too many times, which I don’t want to accept because it removes the talent and mysticism from the whole thing and just kind of makes me a weirdo.
I refuse to believe that.
So next time you see me, ask me to reenact a scene from the movie, and I’ll gladly do so. I spare no expense when I say that what you call discovery, I call the rape of the natural world.
In the meantime, I’ll be driving around in my gas-powered Toyota Carolla looking for a cane with amber on top.