[Company Picnic, BBQ pit, Neal on the ribs, trouble brewing. 74 degrees, easterly wind, storms on the horizon, high desert outskirts]
(discussing Blade Runner)
Neal (basting ribs): no, its absolute horseshit. its poorly thought out and even more poorly executed mid-brow film noir sci-fi masquerading as high brow, at best, carried entirely by the art direction of sydney mead. absolutely over-rated, much like every hugo winner the past decade.
Dale (new guy): rough
Glenn (not Danzig, a different one, to Donovan): you meet the new guy?
Donovan: nah, been dealing with Petes bullshit all week. 
Glenn: is he legit insane or just meming?
Donovan: i heard he used to be some high falutin sci-fi artist then some retards got a hold of an AI & proceeded to mog his ass. he never recovered.
Glenn: is that why he wears the cape all the time?
Donovan: you ever meet any sci-fi fandom? 
Glenn: no, is it that bad?
Donovan: imagine getting called a retard by a retard. now imagine that very same retard but 10x insufferable & sweaty. thats sci-fi fandom
Glenn: wew gross.
Donvan: you got that right big boi
Neal (basting brush pointed at Dale): listen asshole i dont do two things; say middle initials or hyphenated names. hell no. I mean who the fuck do you think you are anyway, the queen of fucking portugal? you get one last name, thats it. enough of this haughty bullshit. as for middle initials, thats like handing me more work. no way, you can blow me first. sam jackson can take that L and go fuck himself. what a prick. as for phil dick, a pretentious mid if there ever was one. his whole premise is wrong. think about it, if there were no humans wtf would replicants even do? they serve no purpose anymore, they cant reproduce, theres no manufacturing base to make them. so it would almost immediately devolve into some turbo insane mad max thunderdome non-stop terror escapade with insane vehicles.
Dale: damn
Neal: oh yeah

dangerhawk or dangermoose, the one specifically for realism i forget.
<|endoftext|>Prompt: [Company Picnic, BBQ pit, Neal on the ribs, trouble brewing. 74 degrees, easterly wind, storms on the horizon, high desert outskirts]
(discussing Blade Runner)
Neal (basting ribs): no, its absolute horseshit. its poorly thought out and even more poorly executed mid-brow film noir sci-fi masquerading as high brow, at best, carried entirely by the art direction of sydney mead. absolutely over-rated, much like every hugo winner the past decade.
Dale (new guy): rough
Glenn (not Danzig, a different one, to Donovan): you meet the new guy?
Donovan: nah, been dealing with Petes bullshit all week. 
Glenn: is he legit insane or just meming?
Donovan: i heard he used to be some high falutin sci-fi artist then some retards got a hold of an AI & proceeded to mog his ass. he never recovered.
Glenn: is that why he wears the cape all the time?
Donovan: you ever meet any sci-fi fandom? 
Glenn: no, is it that bad?
Donovan: imagine getting called a retard by a retard. now imagine that very same retard but 10x insufferable & sweaty. thats sci-fi fandom
Glenn: wew gross.
Donvan: you got that right big boi
Neal (basting brush pointed at Dale): listen asshole i dont do two things; say middle initials or hyphenated names. hell no. I mean who the fuck do you think you are anyway, the queen of fucking portugal? you get one last name, thats it. enough of this haughty bullshit. as for middle initials, thats like handing me more work. no way, you can blow me first. sam jackson can take that L and go fuck himself. what a prick. as for phil dick, a pretentious mid if there ever was one. his whole premise is wrong. think about it, if there were no humans wtf would replicants even do? they serve no purpose anymore, they cant reproduce, theres no manufacturing base to make them. so it would almost immediately devolve into some turbo insane mad max thunderdome non-stop terror escapade with insane vehicles.
Dale: damn
Neal: oh yeah

Negative: dangerhawk or dangermoose, the one specifically for realism i forget.<|endoftext|>