Trillaphon: I think this clap actually turns a little more of the surface of the langage cementer of my brain into scare tissue every time we watchers it.
Hydrogen: I dunno, that all made perfect sense to me. Although there are definitely a couple layers of quasi-Freudian irony in calling something this virulently stupid a "clap."
Trillaphon: Based on the background music, lighting, and number of guns involved I'm pretty sure their locker room is in the Matrix.
Hydrogen: Nothing sets the mood better for an erotic encounter than a nice basso profundo industrial humming sound, I find. Mmm, that's right baby, I covered the bed in flower petals, lit some scented candles, and left my heavy excavator idling in the backyard, just for you.
Trillaphon: Yeah, I feel like most of the better dates I've been on involved some combination of otherworldly droning noises and harsh fluorescent locker-room lighting.
Trillaphon: "Ooh, is that your blatant disregard for gun safety or are you just happy to see me?"
Hydrogen: Date rape has become much more aggressive in the future. If only he had a gun, this wouldn't have...wait a minute.
Trillaphon: I'm starting to wonder if the writers are even familiar with the basic concept of consensual sex at this point.
Hydrogen: If they both had a couple of bodyguards, full Kevlar body armor, maybe some bomb vests hooked up to a deadman's switch, then in the resulting standoff they'd be able to tensely negotiate a few minutes of adrenaline-filled coitus like some high-noon old-Western hostage exchange.
Trillaphon: If there's anything sexier than a Mexican standoff, I don't even want to know about it.
Hydrogen: An armed society is an erotic society, I think I read that in a book somewhere.
Trillaphon: Sounds like Oscar Wilde. I smell a fresh new NRA public relations campaign here. "That candy-ass rape whistle I got at the Space YMCA won't stop a genetically enhanced rapist with cybernetic eyeballs. That's why I'm with the NRA!"
Hydrogen: The new Space National Rifle and Romance Association. Slogan: "Baby, you really know how to pull my trigger."
Trillaphon: "I put on my bandolier and Kevlar wizard hat."
Now with the sun and the warmth and the generally pleasant atmosphere, you can no longer blame the weather for why you've spent the last sixteen hours sitting inside. You'll need to stay on your toes if you want to stay in your chair.
This tuna ain't working, bro, and this gross hot dog needs a one way trip to go live on your uncle's Flavor Farm.
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