This specimen ⬇️
⬆️ That orc.
I specifically will "review" that version of orc. The Warcraft orc. Not the properly functional Tolkien's orc.
So, the modern concept of the orc in entertainment originates largely from J R R Tolkien, who popularised them in The Lord of the Rings as brutish, corrupted creatures bred for war by dark powers.
Though inspired by earlier mythological beings such as goblins, ogres, and various demonic entities from European folklore, Tolkien gave orcs a distinct identity — organised, militaristic, and inherently malicious. Not malfunctional.
His influence shaped fantasy literature, tabletop games like Dungeons & Dragons, and video games (HELLO, WARCRAFT!), where orcs are now a staple enemy race, often portrayed with green skin, muscular builds, and a tribal warrior culture. Over time, variations have emerged, but most still trace back to Tolkien's original wartime allegory.
⬆️ Brutish. 🤔 If they were British, composed creatures bred by tea and honour, I postulate they would go — Biscuits? What a splendid day, this is.
And they don't roar before battle. They issue polite disclaimers. — Terribly sorry, but I must eviscerate you now. Regulation and all. (Giant axe on shoulder with a smile.)
We've just invented proper HR-compliant berserkers. Polite, punctual, and absolutely lethal — but only with cause and a written memo.
Good for us.
Biology
An excerpt from Tolkien's universe:
...a ruined and perverted form of the noble races that were in the beginning. — The Silmarillion.
Indeed, ruined, either way.
We have a race of beings with cranked body-builder default physique.
Which was crafted by — undoubtedly, unquestionably, exactly — Timothy the Chlorophyll Laden Musculus Tuskus. A sacred council from the Blizzard dev team in ~1994.
Yet, none of the weight-lifting repetitions or proper protein-intake culture. Just suddenly... THAT. Well, because it is simpler that way. Just THAT. Accept it, peasant. Do not question. Look at the graphics, listen to the ambience music, feel the drama. No no, do not look that way. Eyes forward.
The Carpenters should make a song about Warcraft orcs.
🎹 (Pling, pling, pling)
🎵 Why do muscles suddenly appear?
🎵 Every time one of us is born?
🎵 Just like that, they just appear
🎵 On meeee
We all love the Carpenters. Admit it.
Those aren't muscles, I believe. More like lumps of hardened goo from birth. And their normal faces look as if they're in the brink of a stroke. Blimey. It's all that inborn-goo-which-becomes-hardened fault — look, side effects. Green. Tusks. Malicious. Organised. Organised? Well I'll be.
(Orc shaman.) Fellow orcs. We gather here because of the goo that gathers us.
(Orc NPCs.) Organised! Organised!
(An orc child.) Organisation! 📢
(Orc NPCs.) 🤨🤨🤨 What mean organ...sashon?
(An orc child.) 👀 Oh dear... ORGANISED! ORGANISED!
(Orc shaman.) Bryan, stop that.
Tusks
Tusk is from the Timothy the Chlorophyll Laden Musculus Tuskus in English.
In nature, we'd find a boar. With its majestic tusks.
But when we pay attention to that, a boar has a snout — unlike humans.
Also, this walrus.
Or... a wandering, camouflaging hippopotamus.
Human skeletal (and, most importantly, dental) design is completely daft to be equipped with "tusks" or elongated fangs. That's because those ornaments will obstruct us from biting and chewing the meal.
Sure, it looks scary. But from medical view, that's bloody COMICAL.
Scary to both parties, the tusks owner and anyone who looks at those tusks.
The tusks are hazardous to the orc ⬅️ scary to the orcs.
We look at the tusks on their mugs ⬅️ scary to us.
A dentist ⬅️ 🧐 Plenty of quid, that.
Win-win. ✅
Ah, perhaps that's the other reason why they have the constipated expression all the time. We'll be like that too when every time we lean forward over a Sunday roast, our tusks clink off the plate like cutlery. — Oi, I want to eat steak! (Constipated face.)
Thus, it's understandable if their slogan is
I'll destroy you 😤😡🤬(Thunderous music plays in background. ⛈️)
Who wouldn't have that slogan from waiting for proper solid food in 12 years?
I haven't chewed in over a decade and my dinner sounds like porridge in stereo.
Blender
So I guess orcs consume only smoothies. They can't get rid off the tusks — visual, the aesthetics is their... thing.
If they took the tusks out, they'd be just like Bob. A society of Bobs? Well, I don't mind. — In this neighbourhood, we are all accountants.
And rightly so, in "Blizzard upgraded" Tolkien's universe (Warcraft) — with an epsilon bit of extrapolation — the orc society is
the inventor of blender.
Indeed, Tolkien never wrote tusks protruding upward from the lower jaw like boar-horns.
Because... how would they eat and drink? And speak... properly?
Rather, like in Two Towers:
squat, broad, flat-nosed, sallow-skinned, with wide mouths and slant eyes.
Which DID NOT sound eccentric enough to... the upgraders. Who seemed to think fantasy equals dental chaos and shoulder pads the size of barn doors. — Something unique. Catches the eyes... Something... green... Something. Sticking. Upward. To the eyes. Not that far.
Continuing the blender invention, it was first introduced by Professor Skullsplitter and further developed until its current stable release, version Bonechewer. Next year, it will be Gutsnarl as it should solve the glitchy gear-ratio dependencies.
blender (n.):
A rotating blade appliance used to liquefy food.
Invented by the orcs of modern fantasy lore after anatomical incompatibility with spoons, forks, and civilised chewing.
Emitting Loud Noise Before Attack
Not just orcs who do that, almost everything in film, audio-visual entertainment in general. Mutated reptile, enormous moth, fire-breathing rabbit, and so forth.
Not in any full moon a lioness would announce to its prey — Oi, maaaaaatteeee! — Not bloody likely. There would be no carnivore then. Even the snakes would produce sound — Yooooooo, lad! — (A squirrel dashes.) — Oh, FOOD. How I long to have one.
In real life, we don't shout and flex ourselves in front of crumpets. — WYYAAARRRGHHH! I. AM. The predator of. CRUMPETS! COME 'ERE! (Does self-motivating slaps to own face.)
Such dramatisation needs a lot of pints.
Emitting Loud Noise Upon Witnessing
Well, it's not orc related, particularly. But it's the opposite of the prior subsection — related, very related. Therefore, it's here. It's a common template everywhere in entertainment.
Every victim or bystander, upon stumbling across something dreadful, will unleash a PROLONGED, full-bodied WAIL. A dead body in the parlour, a monster in the kitchen, a spider on the curtain — same response, EVERY TIME.
Not in any full pint would a startled person in reality carry on like that. Gasp, perhaps. A sharp "ARGH!" — and then they've either legged it or lamped the intruder one. No lingering, sustained scream. Just pure, efficient, human terror. Right? Well, indeed. We don't "MYEEAAAAA" for 10 seconds when there's a rodent in front of us. A jolt mostly. Then we either go full TACTICAL or... other. — Oh hello, Mister Rodent. Mm. Yes.
The truly daft bit is the ones who do scream like that in REAL LIFE largely learnt it from the films themselves. While people who never bothered with cinema are perfectly regulated.
Such dramatisation needs a lot of pints. Again.
Warcraft
The game, Warcraft. Orcs are so accentuated here. As if it were a game or lore about the creature, specifically. Well, indeed, in a way.
The first release, 1994. ⬇️
The initiator of lower jaws are jutted forward and tusks emerge like dual machetes orcs.
Second release, 1995. ⬇️
Aesthetically designed for children (boys) and it sells. Girls would glance sideways at that — Where's the hygiene? Why is everyone so... damp? — Unless it had ribbons, flower crowns, and whatnots. Now, that would be given a withering look by the boys.
Third release, 2002. ⬇️
They can bloody SPEAK in the game. THEY CAN SPEAK. Not just "ugh", "BWARGH", SPEAK. That jaw wouldn't even close, mate. How? I mean, one good sneeze and they'd shish kebab their own sinuses. And they sound like Shakespearean generals. Truly a marvel of fantasy biology, innit? But honestly, with a skull like that, sneezing is a tactical hazard. Very hazardous.
There's no lavatory, no scene where they eat, doing reps or combat exercise — cut to the "blah blah blah" nonsense then fighting.
Lavatory in Warcraft.
(Orc.) Excuse me, Commander Grommash, may I be excused to the lavatory?
(Commander Grommash.) But of course. Do make haste — and compose thyself upon return. 🧐
(Orc.) My thanks, Commander. I shall return unsoiled and swift. (Bowing down.)
🤔
I mean... privy or pit.
Somebody in Blizzard reading those lavatory lines above probably slowly stands up with a haunted look —
OH SH*T, HE'S GOT DIALOGUE. REAL, ACTUAL DIALOGUE!!
Mm, quite. It's what people say to each other in Buckingham.
I shall return unsoiled. 🎺
The excitement is off the charts:
(Reginald.) Top of the morning, Thomas! I shall return unsoiled! 🎺
(Thomas.) Do make haste, Reginald. (Whistling.)
It is indeed exhilarating.
Continuing the "blah blah blah" nonsense then fighting, they should choose either the nonsense or the fighting, not both. I choose nonsense.
(Orc 1.) The Horde needs you.
(Orc 2.) Who's being whored?
(Orc 1.) H-O-R...
(Orc 2.) S-E-D?
This is exactly a 12-year-old boy fantasy: No need for lavatory, the outdoors! No shower. No sleep. Muscles, but without the gym. Green, because why not? Moss is green. Fangs, scary. Super power. Big blades! Shouting drama, heroically! No shower.
⬆️ How do we sell it to kids? Big kids with money, I mean. HABAHABAHABA. Design department! Together! HABAHABAHABA. Now, we say no to water and soap. NO WATER AND SOAP. Together. ⬅️ The laughter needed to malfunction before it functioned.
At least, show the feast, they're supposed to be warriors — try to drink a pint there with the tusks. That would be hysterical — the "affected by uncontrolled extreme emotion" hysterical.
Have a look at this exhibit — taken from "World of Warcraft" cinematic:
Who did that orc's DOUBLE-BRAIDS WITH METAL CUFFS? Is there a salon somewhere? That is CERTAINLY done by a professional. Fat chance that unproportional creature can fold his arms properly. Or even to turn his head normally.
And this:
As if he weren't having enough problem on his mug. One almighty, universe‑warping facial dilemma isn't enough. Add piercings, lads! Teeth necklace! Leather straps!
Again, the mystery salon.
How did they PRODUCE their wardrobe? I guess there's hidden lore of:
🤔 Nah.
⬆️ That sells. Oh, tusks.
Imagine, instead of the "damned", it's the "demand".
Lich King would be... still that. Look:
What... IS that?
In Old English — the Anglo-Saxon utterance — there's līċ (pronounced like "leech"), means "corpse" or "dead body".
So, he's either a:
- corpse that rules, or
- ruler of corpses, or
- corpse ruling corpses, or
- the most corpse of all corpses.
(Cockney Lich King.) Oi! Keep yer mince pies off me BONE BLING!
But the army — the DEMAND army — consists of undead clerks with clipboards, would shout panic-struckenated..ly,
BY THE CONTRACTS OF NER'ZHUL — WE REQUEST INVOICE!
The one at the back would ululate — THIS MEETING... IS MANDATORY. (Screeches.)
Perhaps because they didn't file Form 666-B in triplicate... now they will suffer... the wrath of AUDITUS THE NECRO-LEDGER.
The Playground
This entire trope is like when we're on a playground, involuntarily eavesdrop the boys. — I'm a Paladin! With justice boots! — And the other boy — I summon my wolf spirit to ride my frost dragon into the lava dimension! — We then squint and nod — because of the immersive CGI and everyone in it is serious. Seriousness is contagious by nature. Demographic defines... things.
Welcome to Azeroth. The lands where no one bathes.
Salon
In the 16th century, the word "salon" was used in France to describe a large room in a house where guests would gather, often for intellectual or artistic discussions. They talked about things... sober and refined.
By the 18th century, it was well established as a venue for the "salon culture", where intellectuals and artists gathered, often in the homes of prominent figures. A space for debates, discourse, and cultural exchange. It was utterly high society.
In the early 1800s US, the term saloon (with the double o's) began to be applied to the public drinking establishments that were rapidly becoming the social hubs of the growing American frontier. Not... for upper echelons toenail trimming social gathering dipped in whiskey. That much.
Around the mid-to-late 19th century (around 1850s-1880s), the word salon started to shift towards the beauty industry in Europe. With the rise of fashion and modern beauty standards, salons began offering more cosmetic services like hairdressing, makeup, and even skin care.
By the early-to-mid 20th century, particularly in the 1920s-1930s, the association of salon with beauty treatments was fully solidified.
The girls should look at Warcraft differently now. Especially at those bloody shampoo-model orcs.
Hang On
All this long elaborate typing is essentially comparable to — How CAN Donald Duck talk? That bill isn't designed for human utterance.
Then Disney jumps in —
(Lands. Does Kamen Rider poses. 🤌🤸♂️💪🤏🫵🤘)
Hm. Fascinating take, that.
Right. That's sorted. Let's continue.
Zombies
Unrelated to orcs, but within "looks over function".
You know, "zombie" in films? With their dangling jaws. Allegedly "eat brains" — but their own jaw is hanging off.
In their awkward realm: food goes in and falls out the neck hole.
Chew: Na possible. Look at my bloody jaw, ya plonker.
Now then. 🤔
I think they need to see Professor Skullsplitter about that.
Braiiin... Bbrraiiin... Eat brain...
Mate, you can't even whistle properly.
They moved quite slow and wobbly like me after twelve pints. Yet, nobody brought ropes or anything sensical. — Let's flail and shout with shotguns and wait to be... bitten... by those... drunks. Oh look, some put pasta on their heads.
The JavaScript jest below is brought to you by a sober writer. 🍺
Do package installation with:
Should be the shortest zombie film ever made.
Plot:
- Opening shot: Main characters look at a sandwich.
- Dramatic pause: They take a bite. All of them, from one sandwich.
-
Sudden cut to black: Zombified in 0.2 seconds. - Roll credits.
Best short film ever made.
Monster with Multiple Mouths
Also unrelated to orcs, but within "wow, that looks terrifying".
Hydra for instance, a multi-headed muppet. All teeth, no throat — growling about. So how does it eat? That's peculiar.
Hydra Rebuttal
I exist. And therefore, I.
All right.
But hang on, mate. Does that come from one head or all of them? I mean, you do have plenty of heads to control one body. That's rather excessive and prone to... FAILURES.
(One head is doing npm install with no manifest file.) Void, give me the strength of none. Attach a blank node_modules folder onto mine precious limbs. Commence! (Hits enter.)
(Other head is chewing rock.)
(Other head.) Oi! Use pip! We're bloody snake... are we not?
(Other head pouts. To make it sexually attracted to itself.)
⬆️ None are aligned. They — or it — can rebut all day long.
You see, with multiple heads, first issue: plenty. But of course, it's when we look at it from our biology standard. Intriguing.
Oh, hence... no... defecation unit exists. It's all smooth at the back.
Like that Lernaean Hydra from Twelve Labours of Hercules (not Herakles, no no — Hercules, the Roman plonker). You know, that mythology tale extrapolated by those esteemed people of extrapolation, printed, and distributed to places? Yes yes, that.
The Greek version had depth and typical lunacy, the Roman version had biceps. Let's go with biceps. Go biceps! We gather here because of biceps. 💪
In Lernaean Hydra tale, Iolaus brought flamethrower because it could regrow its heads.
WHO IS IOLAUS? — you may ask. Well, he's similar to "Robin" in "Batman and Robin". Not Robin Hood. — Who are they? — Well, they are characters from a comic book, I believe. Not Robin Hood. Robin Hood is simply a proper forest menace. Predator stands no chance against Robin Hood. — Oh, you're camouflaging, dear chap? Mm. Take this arrow to the eye. Dear chap. Mm. Yes. — Proper. — WHO IS PREDATOR? Why "Predator", not Steve or something? — Very interesting question, that.
Anyway, "...because it could regrow its heads." The "it" is the hydra, not Iolaus. We don't call a male human with "it" either, usually. What a story that could be if Iolaus can regrow his heads (plural?) and he casually brings a flamethrower simply because it looks dashing and he can regrow his heads.
Bit tricky this "growing heads"... and the "male human" vs "human male". Let's have a look at those briefly:
-
Growing heads.
🤔
Nothing to analyse. Moving on.
-
"Male human" vs "human male".
Adjective (sex) + noun (species)vs
noun (species) + descriptor (sex)exhibit:
Oh, that's a male baboon.
But with humans, we classify Bob as a human male.
If then the baboon is called Bob... 🤔
This is called The Bob-Baboon Classification Dilemma. No one asked for that, ever. As it was unnecessary until I brought it up.
One scene for Iolaus the flamethrower wielder:
(One new head spurts.)
I'm in the middle of a conversation, you don't grow now.
(Blaze of glory to his own face.)
What a character.
Iolaus: The Flameheaded Gentleman.
We just made Iolaus much more eccentric than Iunonis Gloria.
⬆️ Iunonis Gloria = Glory of Iuno, Juno. Because the original Herakles (Ἡρακλῆς or ΗΡΑΚΛΗΣ) literally means "Glory of Hera". No Hera in Roman mythology, Juno — Iuno. "Hercules" is just... awkward from this historical context. No clear meaning, just a copied-pasted-modified name. Now, Ionanis Gloria, ah, reminds you of Gloria Estefan, innit? — 🎙️ Come on, shake your body, baby, do the Conga. I know... 🎵 ⬅️ Then Boy George serenades — You come and go, you come and gooooo. 🎵
Indeed, no Bob in Lernaean Hydra bit. Bob the accountant.
If Bob were in it, then the hydra would certainly consist of cloacae. Plural, to accommodate those different heads.
"... consist of cloacae." What an image.
And Bob would mutter, LOUDLY —
And the hydra would surrender unconditionally in shame. Not quite a mythology, that. The Bob. That sparks no imagination.
Even in Greek mythology, Bob is feared. Zeus hides behind clouds muttering — Don't bring Bob here…
(Bob is reading. Squinting.)
Vampires
Hm.
Again unrelated to orcs, but still within the boundaries of Wally World.
They bite, never chew. Retractable fangs. At least retractable. Instead of employing syringe or such related tool, they... have that... ability. Look how messy they get when consuming the blood.
One posh vampire goes:
🧐 Naturally. Chewing is for amateurs. Real immortals gargle arterial spray.
I beg you pardon, that's quite bollocks, good sir.
🧐
You... beg me... pardon?
🧐
I mean, "your". I'm quite sure I meant to say that.
🧐 Naturally.
Why didn't their lips transform into a straw? Or, the tongue. I mean, why didn't they transform their tongue into a straw? Too technical? Or just BRING straws. They have the utmost daft suction mechanics compared to a leech. Look at that spilled blood! On neck, cheeks, chin, shirt. Mate! That's MEAL!
If we had mash potato on our cheeks, chin, neck, shirt, trousers... WELL? — Are you feeling fine, Gerald?
It's wasteful.
🧐 My lips are timeless. As, indeed, is my tongue.
Blimey! The posh vampire chimed in and out like that. Where's the "ah-ah-ah"? Two apples, ah-ah-ah, three orangutans, ah-ah-ah.
Bram Stoker: By the saints, this is utterly nonsensical.
AH-AH-AH.
⬆️ This section deserves to be projected onto the walls of Oxford with Gregorian chanting in the background.
WHO IS BRAM STOKER? — you may ask. Well, he's the writer of "Dracula", 1897. Count Dracula, the origin of vampire trope in entertainment. Ah-ah-ah.
AH-AH-AH.
(Oxford walls footage accompanied by Gregorian chanting.)
Anyway, Dracula. I mean, bloke IS NOT EVEN EATING PROPERLY. He's just having a little nibble. He bites, sips a bit, then flies away like a melon. A courtesy sip! Like someone at a wine tasting going — Mm, yes, lovely vintage, very good. — and putting the glass down. He's not a predator. He's a sommelier. Of blood. Five hundred years old and the man has never once had a proper satisfying meal. No wonder he's always brooding in a castle looking miserable. Try to GLUG GLUG properly, mate. Try it. Bring straws — hose, even — that motorised liquid suction contraption, use your mediaeval quid, hire engineers, then consume them. Very effective. For hunger. You see, I just gave you an idea — "hire engineers, then consume them" — you should then become "Engineer Glugger". Count Engineer Glugger.
🧐 I think not.
Cannibals in Entertainment
That carnage feeding vampire should be related to cannibalism in entertainment.
Who?
I mean, a normal, regular land living being with mouth and teeth? That is an UTTERLY ineffective technique to consume a meal. A toddler will do BETTER eating porridge. Dramatic? No, well all right, yes. Messy? Yes. Plenty of leftovers? Y-E-S. Need napkin? NO. Film material? Possibly. Well, they put that in films.
Even the actual cannibals would palm their faces. — Oi, it's for sacred ritual. You daft, mate? Viscera munching? Ever heard of Escherichia coli? Might as well use the boiling soup to wash your nostrils.
Or... tigers. Did you know tigers are neat when consuming their meal? Oh, just look at a cat. Neat by default. Nature.
The Hollywood people: CRACK ON! DRAMATIC! HABAHABAHABA. Imagine those moneys. YES!
HABAHABAHABA.
Mm. Well indeed, if they went —
Please pass the... that... there (points a plate) Reginald. (Politely wipes with a napkin.)
Ah. Thank you. Yes. A bit of salt, I believe. (Sprinkles salt.)
⬆️ One audience might shout — TOO MUCH TALKING! I DESPISE THE TALKING! BRING ME THE HORROR! BRING IT ON! ⬅️ Because bloke was already conditioned by direct gore and such lack of eating skills. — YEAH! YOU BET THAT RIGHT!
Very well. No competence on the dining table. Though it would genuinely be more terrifying. Moving on.
HABAHABAHABA.
I guess this kind of feeding frenzy was inspired by "burger munching". You see, no one, I mean no one, has come up with a solution to consume the burger neatly. None. Some tried, but failed. The construction is like that, "stack of things". Always the ketchup on the chin, tomato slice on the trousers.
See the connection?
This trope was also brought to us by Hollywood, from the burger land. Who observed how the burger... there. And somehow they subconsciously correlated that — We need something... so... horrifying. Blood everywhere. Like... ketchup everywhere. Like that guy, look at him. He's... eating. LIKE THAT! LOL OMG. Take notes rn! ⬅️ Well, in the 70s there was no "rn" or "lol".
Burger is the ruddy nudist dumpling.
Let's compare that with 潼关肉夹馍 (Tóngguān ròujiāmó).
Anyhow, cannibalism in entertainment always depicts the cannibals can't speak properly, utterly menacing, yet... I mean, that's like a bloke loves pizza and he wears no trousers ALL the time. They're a bit unrelated. A bit.
(Delivered pizza exists.)
I squirt mustard to my face and frantically biting the pizza box. For the state! Myaaaa.
(Running the fork along his cheek. NOT A SINGLE PAIR OF TROUSERS is seen.)
⬆️ Where did he keep his wallet? Did he pay the delivery?
The flamethrower wielding Iolaus would go — Na.
Or — Sodium. (Humphry-Davy headbang.)
This should be taught in schools and universities. The cravat part — as vampire repellent.
Very effective. Trust me. Assuming they only bite the neck. If they tried to bite your behind, well, it'd be their choice.
Oh, do excuse me. The backstory of the cravat bit. You see, Humphry Davy always wore a cravat in his pictures and paintings.
WHO IS HUMPHRY DAVY? — you may not ask. Well, because you didn't ask, let's continue.
The continuation. And he — very confidently, very academically — coined the term "sodium", which THEN Mendeleev renamed it as "natrium", with the symbol Na in his periodic table of elements — because the term "NATRIUM" had already circulated BEFORE "sodium" among people with EARS. Periodic table of elements, you know, that thing... we probably... saw... in... high school? Think IKEA. It's like modular knowledge that no one ever assembled properly.
WHO IS MENDELEEV? — you may ask. Well, he's a 19th-century Russian chemist.
Anyway, "Менделеев" in English. ⬇️
Mendeleev ➡️ Менделеев ➡️ [men-dye-LYE-yev] — the еев at the end is pronounced with two syllables: "ye-yev".
If it were transliterated "Mendeleyef", it'd be closer in pronunciation. But hey, most English speakers ignore all and just say "Bryan".
That's how the Anglo world collectively gave up on Mendeleev and picked the "Bryan method". — Oh, that periodic table of elements? Richard Bryan was the one who published it under a pseudonym, Brian. — Blimey, there's no "M" found. Just like K is potassium.
Or in Carpenters' way:
🎵 Just like K, it longs to be
🎵 Potassium
🎵 Aaa... ooh ooh...
🎵 Potassium
The term "natrium" had already existed. ➡️ Davy: isolated natrium, named it "sodium". Very patriotic. ➡️ Mendeleev: Na — for NATRIUM — was published. ➡️ The Anglo universe: Oh, lovely table. We'll keep the sodium and that provocative looking Na. Cheers. ➡️ Heavy metal bodybang.
Thus the sequence of events above finally ends up in a live, riot-loaded metal concert. Nerdic to Nordic.
Imagine if Lenny Kravitz were called Teddy Cravats. Theodore Alabaster Cravats III.
They can't pierce through that.
⬆️ What they and that? They = vampires, that = cravat. Ey, we're back at vampires within the hypothetical flamethrower wielding Iolaus who said Sodium. We'll continue the wally saga. (That walrus above nods.)
Especially when the cravat is made of titanium. That would be exquisitely very effective. And heavy. And very constrictive.
⬆️ From "They can't pierce through that."
And oh, sodium, naturally. Sprinkle some salt here and there, potassium to the chin. Science!
You see, in academia, we need a subject solely dedicated to nonsense. It's called academia. The entire institution is the subject.
This heavy metal below is to convey both the feeding frenzy trope and Sir Humphry Davy, the esteemed potman.
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