Predetor 2 is still an awesome movie

Its incredible fascinating how the idea of functionalism can permeate into every aspect of ones life, he thought while cutting through the laces of his eighteen eye latter boots. Why untie when the one true goal of this particular moment is getting these god forsaken boots off of assumed god forsaken feet. Drunken logic, true, yet this idea of function was no easy notion to escape, let alone grasp in the essence of the said moment. His hands looked purple. Blurry too. Blurry and purple... well no. They were blurry... but the purple was not his hands but of course the blood covering said hands.

He did remember liking his dog most of the time. It was a good dog if a dog can be called so, but at this moment, the said moment... and undoubtably prior to said moment... the dog could fit into no category of function that seemed necessary at this point in life, so, as a solution to this monumental contradiction in existence, the dog had to be made functional... for a dog is made of flesh, and flesh, as he and we all know, is generally functional... functional and often times delicious.

"Guns are functional," was the thought, the epiphany experienced as he stood and lived with the sound and the feeling and the velocity of bullet entering what was soon to be a stew with carrots and potatoes. The bullet was functional, it made sense as it bolted towards dinner, and it made sense as it shared the space that is generally allotted for a small and trusting animals nerve center.

"You, were, very good too me." He struggled to say... an offering of condolence. He thought about the walk he no longer needed to take to the market.

Boots sound heavy when they hit things. The boots were purple... blurry too. Blurry and purple... the boots were not actually blurry, but there was nobody else around to bring this into light. They were also not purple... Such atrocious aesthetics aren't suitable for one so concerned with function, yet, they did look blurry, and they also appeared very purple in the light from the over sized television. The television that will undoubtedly be shot in the near future... Danny Glover's red face glowed in the predator's heat vision. He was sweating, red and yellow... centered in a blue field of concrete lacking the body heat of said protagonist.

There were no potatoes in the cupboard.

The blurry boots were re-laced in white, rendering his wives old Keds essentially useless.

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