Look, I like money just as much as the next guy. It buys you swell things, like food and jaunty hats. In fact, I would go so far to say I would like some more of it.  I keep spending mine on stupid stuff like utilities and new tires. I’m a business savvy enough person to understand that sequels make lots of money. The next Avengers movie could just be the extended cast playing Mario Go Kart for three hours and it would still make all the money in the world on its opening day. We’d have to go back to the barter system and proclaim the MCU our new religion. But in respect to the intelligence of everyone on the planet, we need to stop making Jurassic Park movies.

I say this as a person who loves Jurassic Park. I was a dinosaur dork as a kid, seldom seen without my Little Foot doll or my realistic brachiosaurus replica my uncle bought me when we went to the Philadelphia Museum of Natural History. Seeing such a realistic representation of dinosaurs in a movie was breathtaking to me as a kid. I felt Dr. Grant’s amazement in the scene where he sees the dinosaurs for the first time. I still hold my breath during the terrifying T-Rex scene. It’s one of my favorite movies of all time.

My reaction the first time I saw it in the theater

Then there was the highly anticipated The Lost World. Even as a kid, I remembered being a little underwhelmed by it. On a dull day at work, I IMDB’ed it and was surprised that it was Spielberg movie. Spielberg didn’t see the jaw gaping stupidity of transporting a T-Rex to San Diego on the heels of a dino-potluck caused by a brief power failure? Or the plausibility of a child fending off a velociraptor with after-school gymnastics skills? The Lost World got by with a couple tension building scenes and Jeff Goldblum’s awesome Goldblumming, but by Jurassic Park 3, they had both left the table and declined another helping. They had to find yet  another stupid reason that an original cast member would want to return to an island where they spent the worst weekend of their life, with an even worse kid. Enter talking velociraptors. You know that your franchise is doing well when you add talking dinosaurs. If the next installment of Twilight adds a wise cracking triceratops (listen to me Stephanie Meyer) I’m buying an advance ticket today.

Featured: Cinematic gold.

Even after the death toll of Jurassic Park rivals that of Westerosi block party, in Jurassic World InGen decides that the best way to pay respect to the victims of multiple tragedies is to build a bigger, more morally reprehensible park with more vicious genetically altered animals on what is essentially a memorial site. With worse security, and without even bothering to clear some of the debris of the previous maulings. But nostalgia is fun.  Shockingly, things don’t go as planned and more unsupervised children are subjected to years of intense therapy trying to sort out their feelings about seeing their babysitter brutally eviscerated by a pterodactyl. Buying your child a ticket to visit Jurassic World should involve an immediate notification to Child Protective Services.

It’s harder for a minor to buy beer than it is to gain access to an unsecured island of rampaging monsters

Just when we thought that man has learned a lesson about its hubris, the characters are called back to the Isle O’ Murder to … rescue the dinosaurs? For what earthly reason, Jurassic World 2: We‘re Going to Shake Your Faith in Chris Pratt? Look, historically speaking, these dinosaurs are assholes. They’ve made it quite clear they aren’t interested in co-existing. Personally, if I was trying to rescue an animal and it tried to eat me and the stupid kid I brought along for this mission, well then it can go to hell. I’ve locked my cat out of the house for more minor infractions. Biting is not allowed, no matter how intense our game of Dragons gets! I have shed large tears for the puppies in the Sarah Mclaclan commercials, but the most heart wrenching “Save The Thunder Lizard Clones from Lava!” commercial couldn’t convince me to try to herd those things on a boat to the mainland. While outrunning lava. I’ve seen Volcano, lava doesn’t mess around.

Aww, look at the poor little guy! Honey, clear some room in the back seat!

In closing, everyone involved in returning to the Jurassic Park island has the IQ of reheated Jell-O. The blood of dozens of chowder-headed people is on your hands. There is no plausible reason that the U.N. wouldn’t have decided to firebomb this island years ago, and making me pay fifteen dollars to see why is pissing me off.

If the Pirates of the Caribbean occasionally ate Disneyland tourists would you renew your annual pass and cross your fingers?