Take a look at this screengrab I took of an ad for the upcoming movie “Predators” while watching porn on Hulu.
See the aiming reticules? Notice how they’re spread evenly over Adrian Brody’s body. I’m beginning to think the Predator series of movies may not be based in reality.
Human heads have a lot in common with water-filled coffee cans when hit with fast-moving projectiles.
There’s no way a species of professional sport-hunters would have such shitty aim. Those dots should be clustered around Adrian Brody’s heart. Any quality firearm training and safety program would teach how to properly aim a shoulder mounted plasma caster with a triple laser sight.
It’s Hunting 101. Aim for the heart. Shoot to kill. Even children know that! And if you get hurt, start laughing and blow yourself up.
Sure, the one aimed for his head will definitely do the job. One cannot discount the joy of seeing a head erupt in a spray of fluid and bits. But still, head shots are discouraged when a chest shot is available.
Maybe the Predators have some kind of weird etiquette that prevents them from stepping on each other’s laser sights. I can see how it would get annoying while hunting a pack of humanity’s finest killers to have picked a spot to vaporize only to have some jackass float his sight over yours. You went to all this trouble becoming a terrifying instrument of inter-galactic death, you and your friends set up an entire planet as a game reserve, you spent over $600 dollars at REI on camping gear and some joker is gonna paint his reticule over yours? The nerve!
If I were a member of a pack of menacing predators. I’d open up my crab-legged vagina mouth and say, “Yo, pal. How bout you aim for his other scapula, alright? Fucker.” Except I would say that in Predator language.
Maybe that’s where things went off the rails between humans and predators. All the violence was the result of a simple language difference. They were on an inter-galactic fishing trip, out to spend a few weeks away from the wife and kids, catch some fish, tell stories, get drunk, and the governors of California and Minnesota and Bill Duke and that cool Indian guy who cuts himself showed up and started giving them shit. I’d be pissed, too. Can’t say I blame them for responding by sending more predators to try and kill Danny Glover.
Languages are only barriers if you’re afraid to cross them. Admittedly, they come off a little aggressive, what with the screeching and the menacing posture and the skinning of natives. But so what? It could just be that’s how they communicate. In the original Predator, the predator makes a ferocious sound but he might simply have been asking for help.
This wasn't the first time miscommunication led to conflict.
Step back from the madness and you can see that the real problem is that we just never took the time to get acquainted. Maybe it’s time we lose our ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ attitude that always gets us into trouble. Questions like, “Did you see that shot?” and “That was a good shot, wasn’t it?” and “When can I shoot another one?”
In case you’re wondering, I still plan on seeing the movie, even though it might be fiction and assuming it gets at least 70% on rotten tomatoes.
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The best part: “…They were on an inter-galactic fishing trip, out to spend a few weeks away from the wife and kids, catch some fish, tell stories, get drunk, and the governors of California and Minnesota and Bill Duke and that cool Indian guy who cuts himself showed up and started giving them shit. I’d be pissed, too. Can’t say I blame them for responding by sending more predators to try and kill Danny Glover…”