Brain Freeze
Overall Recommendation
Recommendation?
This starts off REALLY strong and then sorta, well fades. I’m not saying that it’s turns into a bad movie, just, that the initial Whooowee!!! kinda fades once they get to the partnership thing. I think they put too much stock into making the relationship between the two of them comedy realm, instead of the more realistic approach of actual desperate cooperation. It’s strange though, I think the kid does the comedy better by himself than with a straight man. He’s a little Fred Savage that way. God, I hope that doesn’t stop anyone from watching this. Because, shit, this is good! Makes more sense than most, better production than most, a tenuously original idea about the origin of the zombies and then there’s the whole water thing, which… zombies that want water more than brains are… still frightening as hell, but… Man, they had something here, and they still do, but it just waters itself down as it approaches the end, if you excuse the lame joke. The introduction of the twin assassins was weak. Pointless. Just like ripping her arm off. I mean, yeah, we padded the rest of the movie and increased the milage by injecting all the hand jokes, but… you don’t “amputate a limb” and then think that birdcages and camera angles are going to save your skin. This is a good movie, and they achieved what they were aiming for. I think. But that said, there’s definitely better options out there. That said, this is a great option if you don’t have anything else planned. Sorta like golf, or ranting about golf. You do these things to fill the time. Unfortunately, too much of this felt like it was there to fill the time. That’s a shame, because there’s room for this to stretch out and really get weird. I loved the children in this- Fred Savage is great, the baby is adorable, the zombie baby is even more adorable. This would have been perfect for a rough draft of a movie that’s going to be flushed out with additional story content and less meandering. This needed a firmer hand editing. This needed more vision. This needed… This is… like, analogous to The Best Thing Syfy Channel Ever Did. It’s a 7/8 scale model. It’s… well, got green in it instead of red. This is like a vegan zombie movie vegan hamburger. I was a vegetarian for years, I love Morningstar Farms burgers, but this zombie movie really needed just a little more emphasis on zombies to be truly awesome or great. As it is, this is like if Fred Savage made a really good zombie movie. That’s really the measure of it. Imagine the best zombie movie Fred Savage could have been in. This is pretty much that kinda movie.
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- Snow. Golf. Green shit. Catalysts. Melting. Growing. A dad obsessed with his daughter.
- The shit starts hitting the fan and people are turning into zombies and no one is taking it seriously.
- Fred Savage has to baby sit and mom is a zombie and gets hit by a truck.
- Fred Savage runs around with a baby strapped to him. Sometimes, there are zombies chasing.
- The dude… there’s bombs… A couple of the world’s lamest assassins.
- Uh… like, the zombies turn into an Ent if left alone for too long? Or something?
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
The zombies are caused by contamination in the water caused by a new fertilizer that allows grass to grow in winter. And somehow removes the snow from it, too. But the chemicals turn humans and animals into plant zombies, which, well… they want to do the regular zombie stuff, but they also like staring off into space while sunbathing, or literally bathing in any water supply they can find. And then, after being a plant zombie for a while, you start growing grass and growths that look like prosthetics from that Pirates of the Caribbean with Davy Jones’ ship and the men turning into barnacle people. That’s sorta what end-stage plant zombie looks like. They’re… also able to turn human again. Somehow. Which I don’t think is explained, or rather, it’s attempted to but it gets lost in the shebang-zowie of it all.
Where the money went
Where the money went
Aside from the plot/script, which was kinda weak, they could have tried a couple other adult males for the co-star position. The energy between the two wasn’t great. However, everything in this movie is well done, and most of it is excellent. The zombies are amazing, the gore is present and very well done, the sets are… well, shit. I’m building a house right now so I’m all about the vanity garage doors. Man, the architecture in this movie is great. The real sparkle of this movie is the tempo of the chasing scenes, and the measured urgency that the characters move through. It seemed to be filmed in a grey filter though, which could simply be a Canadian thing.
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
A sharpened shovel. I love it. In WWI, the allied troops would cut down the handle of a shovel, and then file it’s head so that one side was a jaggedly sharp saw, while the other doubled as an axe. The Germans didn’t approve of such savagery, and would be extra hard on any allied soldiers captured who had one of these weapons. Now, the dude doesn’t put THAT much effort into his shovel, but it’s a different kind of shovel to start with. I gotta revel in this more though… this takes us back to hand to hand combat, and trench warfare where a pump .12 ruled the dirty mounds.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
They… they win an award here. The dude rips his daughter’s forearm off, and then they incorporate this severed hand into everything else. How does he reach the bomb? He uses her hand as an extension. How does he wave? He waves the hand over his head. How does the movie close? With the hand floating to the bottom of the river. There wasn’t a whole lot of genre shit here, since it’s such a wildly original (vegan-ish) take on zombies, but there is plenty of hand-action to be had.
That was new!
That was new!
This whole plant zombie thing is new, I think. I may have seen something else similar once, but it was nowhere as good and I’m going to say that this is new, since I’ve never seen it remotely close to this well done. Now, that said… I’ve never seen twin assassins. Especially where one would work, but no, you got greedy and wanted to be different so you hired a pair of sub-par actresses who have about a toaster’s ability to emote. Combined. I’ve seen the radio DJ thing done, I mean, it’s sorta a classic of the genre, since it’s how we first learned of the meteor in Night of the Living Dead, but this right wing garbage? I mean, yes, it may be factually and logically correct; except with the whole gangrene fixation. You don’t cut the whole limb off unless there is danger of sepsis. If it’s simple gangrene, fly maggots will do wonders to remove the dead, gangrenous flesh, leaving hale and hearty pink in their wake.
Review Notes
Review Notes
Oh fuck. Can’t breathe. (cough)
Some kind of search party out in a blizzard or something.
Green crap in a vial. No, that’s a backpack.
He’s spraying… oh, I get it. That’s the stuff that does all the stuff. (cough) (cough)
Hardcore French rap. How real is that?
Goddamn green fascists? Radio dude probably has a lot of friends.
“I’m not texting, I’m watching a video!” (Runs a red light)
Those garage doors cost tens of thousands of dollars.
That house is Sploosh.
Andre. Camilla.
This kid is hella spoiled.
And uncoordinated as hell.
Now, THAT is a sexy truck.
This guy is hoarding toilet paper! I am too! He’s hoarding so much crap though. I’m not hoarding that much.
Big cats trying to eat babies. That may be some of the best stuff I’ve seen.
Guy is trying to make fire out of the sticks method.
Now he’s using the “shotgun shell” method.
Whoah! That was not right! He’s lucky he’s not dead!
HE BURNED HIS EYEBROW OFF!! The cat is doing that J-T two-step already!! Glitch, baby, glitch! Yeah!
Andre, you know nothing about anything.
The mom is blending lettuce?
Fucking right hand is shaking. I wish I knew why this happens.
They live in a checkpoint society.
“I hate socializing!”
“I do too, but got no choice.”
(Sneeze!) (Sneeze!)
Some creepy guy stroking a putting green.
“The rich don’t give a shit about the laws of nature.”
Andre! Catch the baby!
Huge-ass limo. Small nippy dog.
“Golf is… not a sport or a game. It’s a social status.” Ain’t that the truth. Yeah. Looking in *your* direction. Although, I did play golf for a while. It was mainly a way to get drunk and high and hang out with my friends outside, but there was some love for the game. Enough that I still enjoy a bucket now and then at the driving range.
This right wing disc jokey is a dick.
Oh… baby… gonna… tv…
Oh… baby… shit.
YouTube? That’s fucking AWESOME!!
This dude is obsessed with his daughter. It’s not right. I mean, like, it’s Norman Bates wrong.
Nice! A hole in one!
Which… triggers… science! Green science!
A schmuck drinking water…
A kid taking a bite of an apple. HA! That’s punk rock! And complete douche move.
Mist… spray… fog… tea…
I cannot cease coveting this house!
Wow. He’s got leprechaun meth-mouth.
Fruit? I threw it on the ground!
And then… I turned into a zombie and darted into the bathroom and ripped my wife’s throat out with my teeth.
And then… I jumped in the bath with her? And passed out? And she turned into an equally unconscious zombie?
“The next step is to change the whole damn climate here.”
“We’re working on it.”
Oh shit. Zombies.
Oh SHIT! Zombie dog!
Wow. That escalated quickly.
Busy little old lady.
Busy little old zombie.
Ring around the Rosie!
He’s awfully calm about this.
They’re… dysfunctional.
All he drinks is coke.
“I’m eliminating toxins.”
“Maybe you should be relaxing instead of exercising and taking anti-depressants.”
“coke one, kale juice zero”
Shit! His mom is…
“Uh, mom? Did you overdose on Kale?” It goes on and gets better…
Those garage doors… So sexy!!
I can’t believe he’s dragging his crippled zombie mom around.
Oh. I’m not sure putting a pillow on the baby is a good idea.
Or… multiple pillows. And a huge life-sized teddy bear?
I think he’s using a shovel as a melee weapon?
Oh, shit! Jumped. Definitily jumped.
So, the zombies go dormant pretty quick if there’s no stimulation.
And they just bombed the bridge and turned off electricity.
No, you should not trust the government.
And the phone dies. Kid, now it’s time to live!
He’s waving kale at her as she chases him.
Well, we knew the TV had to die. Lucky for him, it took mom out too.
Ladders are never a good idea.
Neither are cats.
Nor is letting zombies into your house. Unless, of course, it’s in order for them to chase your cat around the place. Then it’s… pure gold.
Zombie just lost his shoe.
“You… you ran over my mother.”
“And you’re the one watching videos on your bike.”
Grocery store is a good place to hunker down.
Oh, he’s going to try to start a fire again.
Jesus, duct tape that baby to something!
Ahhh… the optimism of “She’ll get better”
Protocols? Who is this guy again?
I want a popsticle. He’s got a popstickle.
“We know that it’s some kind of virus, and we know it’s viral.” What I know is that you’re fucking redundant and stupid repeating.
Just found an error in the movie. He’s already taken a bite out of his popsticle. And then, he takes another First Bite out of his popstickle.
My god, I LOVE mashed potatoes.
The right-wing radio guy… is making a bit more sense now.
I’m down with anyone who is able to eat 6 boxes of popstickles. I like this kid.
And he gets brain freeze! I mean, it’s the title of the movie, but, like, I LIVE brain freeze in the… well, I’m gonna say literal sense.
“Look, my daughters in the fridge and she’s green!”
And the radio guy just swerved back into fascist territory.
I like this kid. Trying to feed his baby sister popstickles.
Aw, hell. The old “We need to find a vaccine. In order to find a vaccine, we need to find the cause.”
What the hell?
Ponytails and silencers? A twin set of assassins? Or at least, ninja-ish black wearing bad-asses?
Why… are they going outside? Like this? Why… a birdcage? On her head… I wouldn’t trust it.
Oh, that’s only bungeed on? I don’t trust it.
These two bad-asses are bad-asses. We get it.
Strange how much attention they’re putting on this radio dj shit. It makes for a very lazy form of injecting social commentary or genre-pointing.
Damn, he’s really going out of his way to be offensive.
I wonder if it’s any coincidence that the marketing materials for this “turn you into green zombies” has a big M on it. I can only assume the filmmakers have a strong opinion on Monsanto.
Uh… What are these two crazies up to?
2nd bowl of mashed potatoes. (le’sigh)
Free car, free baby!
Dude is going to have to kill his daughter. Or , rather, he’s gonna get bit by her.
Do NOT get in the tank with…
“Run!”
“I’m running!”
“Run, run!”
“Don’t worry, I am!”
The most futile garbage can toss known to man…
How did they convince people to film at a sewage treatment plant?
Or, I mean… maybe he’ll just accidently rip his daughter’s arm off.
Dude is just carrying her arm around. And… then… put it on the dashboard?
Kid just used the severed hand to unlock the girl’s phone.
The zombies have grass growing out of them.
“It’s not terrorists… it’s golfers!” Which isn’t terribly funny. I initially heard “It’s not terrorists… it’s GOPHERS!” which, you know… made me laugh. “Do you take drugs, Danny?” “Everyday.” “Good. So, what’s the problem?”
So the assassin ladies are using… gas globes… to kill the bad grass.
“Open up, we’re not infected!”
“Except one!”
Well, once again, we learn the reason behind the wisdom of “If you don’t have an amputee to play an amputee, don’t have anyone getting their limbs amputated. ‘cause you can’t fake that shit. Even here, it doesn’t look right. Bird-cage headed or not.
Until you find a cure? How are you gonna cure the ripped off arm?
I like making chair forts too.
I love that little girl.
What the fuck?? It’s a grass dog? This is sick! Cray!
Oh! He’s giving him a hand!
Shit! Lost the baby!
Who set those bombs?
Why does this music sound so much like 28 Days Later?
Why is he lurching like that? Did he drink the water?
Well, shit. Down to the final minute anyway. Gonna be big badda-boom.
Oh, Jesus. He just used his daughter’s arm as a grabber-extension.
Assassins, meet baby.
What the fuck? They’re giving the baby the green zombie balls? That’s not cool, man!
Oh, the dude turned!
Oh! The baby turned!
Bit her finger off!
And here comes the dude! That’s one lady assassin down.
I love the look that the baby zombie gives the dude zombie.
Seems transfixed by the light.
Assassin twins… well… they kill each other. In a way that I’m sure was supposed to be cooler than it came out.
Back to right wing radio… even more repugnant.
Slow motion flame throwers are cool.
Baby zombie just changed back.
And the soldiers are in Cleaning mode. Not Assisting mode.
Oh, shit. No, it’s not going to be ok. Wow. That was brutal.
Well, that’s convenient.
Oh, he’s drinking from a M mug…
And seriously, kid… how could you think that’s a good idea? Littering is NEVER a good idea.
Shit. Now we got zombie fish.
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
I had a strange thing happen today that I can’t explain, and it’s so small and insignificant that I kinda feel nuts obsessing over trying to figure it out. Who knew you could travel the multiverse while weed-whacking?
I intend no overture or implication either; I’m talking about a 2-stroke and nylon line that never wants to feed out correctly. And that’s where the big puzzler happened today. I had run out of line clearing my curbs, and after mowing the lawn I opened up the spool and loaded in another 50 foot pre-cut roll, and then fought with the spring loaded locking mechanism to get the whole thing put back together again.
I walked to my front lawn and began trimming some clover that’s creeping through a sidewalk crack and after a bit of cutting the sound and vibration change suddenly and I knew that I needed to turn the machine off and advance the line out. So I did so, stopping in disbelief only when I found that there was no more line loaded to pay-out. I’d just filled then thing, and then chopped crap for about three minutes… and then it was empty again.
I accepted that something bizarre must have happened where the line snagged on something and all got pulled out without me noticing, but when I looked around the area I was working, there was no spool of line wrapped around anything. Without going too far into the mystical side of life, I cannot explain where the line for the weed-whacker went.
I loaded a fresh spool, I ran the machine for two minutes, and the spool was empty with no line to be found anywhere. It’s the small little shit like this that they start fucking with you about first. Like, if you really hate a pair of your partner’s shoes, wait until they’re out of season and then hide one of them somewhere your partner will never look. Your partner may ask if you’ve seen the other of their pair of shoes at some point, you can either lie, which I don’t like, or provide a list of places that you think you might have seen it. Obviously, you don’t provide the actual hiding place as a potential.
After a while, your partner will become discouraged, and believing that they lost one of their shoes, they’ll throw the remaining one out. Wait a couple of months, and then retrieve the hidden shoe and re-hide it someplace in your partner’s stuff where they’re guaranteed to stumble across it at some point. Now wait patiently.
Eventually, they’ll bring this remaining shoe to you, lamenting how they already threw the other shoe out because they thought that they’d lost this one, so now they have to throw this one out too. Offer sympathy and to go shoe shopping with them.
I felt like crap yesterday, so I watched movies. A bunch of them. How I live Now. Great little movie about the militarization of society, how Americans are spoiled fucks, and how everything is not going to turn out ok and that sometimes simply surviving is breaking even in an unwinnable situation. No. You should not trust the Government.
No Good Heroes. Weird little X-files of a flick where a bunch of humanoid aliens live at the bottom of a well and the sheriff is secretly hiding them until they decide that they no-longer want to live at the bottom of a well so they come out and start killing everyone. And, now, it turns out that they can look and talk exactly like humans, because they’ve found some way to cover themselves in human skin so that they pass as human until they shed it all off in a gory sight that was already used in Lovecraft Country. Exact same effect. Exact same.
Red 11. This is an extrapolation of a chapter out of Robert Rodriguez’s book about the making of El Mariachi. I read the book in undergrad. I don’t know why. I did take a couple of art classes, including the only F I ever got in undergrad, which was Art History. Jesus, I hated that class.
I almost failed another art class, but I think I got D-‘d, which was fine, since the teacher had pulled me aside and said that it was obvious that I didn’t care about art, so what did I care about? When I told him I liked playing guitar, he told me to drop out and just do that instead. I wish I’d seen the wisdom being offered.
Instead, I simply reveled in the irony of a teacher suggesting you quit; and then for the final I took a lot of acid and instead of demonstrating my grasp of grey-scape and shading to show depth and dimensionality, I painted a big black canvas, wrote BMW on it in white paint, and then did one of those circle-cross-outs, like the Ghostbusters logo, in red over it. I guess the D- was a pity grade for the guy too stupid to take the good advice.
But Red 11 was great. Don’t believe what the critics said, and don’t go into thinking “I’m watching a Robert Rodriguez movie!”. Just watch it for the craziness that it descends into. My wife had a good point when she said that it reminded her of The Squid Game. Red 11 is one of those movies that you think you have a grasp on, then it skewers your perception or perspective a bit so you’re scrabbling to get a grip on the new reality, only to have the whole snow-globe shaken up again as instantly as you think you’ve got your feet solidly underneath you.
The Dry is a movie about the consequences of Australians doing Australian things. Mainly, because people keep dying. The main character is an Australian FBI kinda guy, who goes back to his tiny home town for his best friend’s funeral, which is the cinematic equivalent of kicking a hornet’s nest, since there’s nothing but old accusations and bad blood left there for him. Lotta shotguns in that one. But… Red pill/Blue pill type simplicity.
Finally, to round things out and bring some class to the matter, I watched Young Guns. Such a great classic. I wonder why it didn’t have any Baldwins in it? They were in everything back then. But here’s the thing that I didn’t understand. They kept using the word “Farging”. I briefly Googled a bit trying to figure out what the hell, but I can’t tell if this is what the original movie was shot as, since Charlie “Tiger Blood” Sheen’s character was a straight-arrow type, if he never swore, or if the sticky fingers of retro-censorship have struck and they re-dubbed the dialogue to make it less offensive?
Even my wife, who grew up shackled to the counter at the family video rental business, didn’t remember them saying “Farging”. I suppose the other thing I should note about Young Guns is that if they’re going to go back and neuter the dialogue to make it less offensive, they should probably also roll that R rating back to a PG, since there’s nothing in that movie that you don’t see on TV.
I started 6 bags of grain today with spores. 3 bags of Golden Teacher, and 3 bags of Alacabenzi. I have a good feeling about them, but then again, I had a good feeling about the poop bags and we’ve had 25% failure rate so far, with probably more bags failing than currently realized. So far, our entire mushroom grow has been set back (retarded) by a month or more, which is really annoying since there are so many plans in place around them.
IE: a couple of us are going to begin micro-dosing regularly, and my Doctor suggested weekly recreational trips while camping and whatnot. So all this planning and failure mathed out and resulting in us losing both a month of growth, as well as a lot of faith in ourselves and our abilities, I’ve started looking around to try to find a mentor like I did for growing marijuana.
I have gone onto FB Market and found people selling spore prints locally, and I was in the middle of working on a master plan to find a spore-supplier and mentor when I noticed that there’s people flat out advertising mushrooms. Then I looked around a little bit online and found a website that not only sells mushrooms, but MDMA and LSD? And fucking Peyote? Takes us right back around again to Young Guns. “Did you guys see the size of that chicken?!”
So I’m sitting here wondering how much risk I feel like taking, and trying to allow my world-view to change enough to accept that drug dealing has gone so mainstream for people who don’t roll street that it’s essentially legalized. What I mean by this is that drug dealing is no longer for thugs and hoods, it’s got smart people running parallel distribution streams anonymously to the point that I understand now why people are into Bitcoin and the whatnot.
I believe this is going to be something that I need to understand, since it’s how we can buy drugs without the government noticing. But then… It’s fucking advertised, so it’s not a question of the government noticing, rather, it’s a question of are you gonna get what you pay for? Because you have no-one to complain to if you don’t. But… This doesn’t feel like an oregano deal.
You remember that, Devil M___? When I stayed in the lounge and you wandered off and gave our $40 to some rando in the parking lot and when I told you that you’d bought oregano you refused to believe me and took a huge hit and then turned green and sick? And lay on my floor groaning and coughing? Good times. Remember me beaning you in the head with a roll of toilet paper to wake you up? Or the fireworks and fruit at 3 in the morning? Good times. Room-mate on the cupboards? Good times.
Let’s try to do a quick accounting of myself and the important things. I have not gotten punched in the head yet. In fact, I’ve back-slid to the point that I ate an entire party-sized pack of dual-stick popsticles yesterday, and today I’ve been in the coffee ice cream.
Our house plans are still at the engineers. I’ve already talked about Myosin. I just went down a rabbit hole looking to see if there were any good body armor sales coming up, since it’s almost 4th of July. Jeep… hasn’t been touched. The engine could have been transmogrified into a pumpkin for all I know.
What the fuck am I watching tonight? Brain Freeze (English Dubbed) I’m not sure if that last part about dubbing should be bolded, but it’s part of the title on Amazon, so whatever. “An exclusive golf club hires a multinational biotech company whose “revolutionary” fertilizer melts the snow, contaminating the water and transforming the residents into zombies. Survivors Andre and Dan fight peacocks, mad scientists, and the army itself.” Well, uh… so… These two don’t have to fight zombies? Just Peacocks, scientists, and the army? Seems a little bit off. Looking at the names of the people involved, this is a Norwegian movie. Or Swedish? Jonker. That’s someone’s name.
I looked into squirrel suiting and base jumping again. Cost wise, something around $25-50K to really get the full training and whatever. Meaning, you do it the way that everyone else did it, which is first learn to parachute, and then become a registered skydiver, and then after a certain number of jumps or something you can then begin learning base jumping, and once you’ve mastered that and become a registered base jumper, then you can get a squirrel suit and finally start the good stuff. But that’s all from one website about how much it costs, and they spell out that you have to take this certain measured Candyland approach to it.
What if I buy a set of gear online, and then learn to use it, and then go to some place where people do it and waiting until they all go and then going myself? It seems that most of the skill comes in the decision making, and by following the herd, you’re guaranteed the same chances that they took.
I’d like to believe that everything concerning the basics has already been put down in writing multiple times. Setting up the gear is a basic “repetition makes right” rule, same thing as putting up a tent or cleaning a gun. I don’t know. It seems like if I go the suggested route of learning to walk before attempting to run, it’ll take forever to actually do the thing, but I’ll have a pretty sure shot at succeeding, and thus living. Making it up as I go? I mean, let’s assume I fuck the squirrel suiting thing up and start dropping like a rock? I pull the chute. Maybe it’s early? Is no big deal.
Gives me more time to get comfortable with steering, banking, flaring, etc. before I have to figure out how to land. See? I already know what those terms mean. I think they’re important. You know what else is important? Thinking outside the box. I’d rather die than get crippled.
I say that now, never having faced the certainty of a binary ending consisting of such options. I’m sure I’d take crippled over dead. At least, I want to believe I would? The point I’m making is that I can just hit water for my landing. I know it’s not completely forgiving, but… If I can pack my chute correctly, and steer somewhat better than an elderly drunk swerving their Buick down the line, then I think I can survive a water-landing.
I wish I was already wearing all the gear and being chased by a huge bear right now somewhere and had to make the jump. It no longer seems foolhardy to attempt it when the other option is certain death. I should start squirrel-suiting money away in case I ever get the opportunity to truly indulge in gambling with my life again.
I miss riding a crotch rocket through traffic, blasting through the gap between semis, snarling torque and middle-fingers and gripping tight with your thighs, willing it to stay on the pavement, willing yourself to stay on it, wishing the moment never had to end, feeling the letdown of killing the engine and coasting the driveway and then straddling-off and clumsily trying to get your gloves and helmet off.
It didn’t feel the same when I lived in New Hampshire and didn’t have to wear a helmet. Getting off the bike and fumbling off the gloves then… I was a different beast. I was a beast. I was a tattooed white trash Ben Kingsly with a phone that never ran out of numbers. I was a Sexy Beast. I didn’t want to die then, I drank.
I tried to die, though. I drank. Continuously. If I reach back, I can still feel a remnant of that self-centered, vicious creature. Not enough pride to be a lion, but no call to the life of nobility either. I was a strutting king amongst the gutter-jackals. I’m ashamed of how I acted, but I wish I was still him. “Regrets… I’ve got a few… but then again, too few to mention…”
Talking about regrets, I regret talking so civilly with the new neighbor who began asking us about our garden. It wasn’t until a few seconds in that I realized he was walking around in his socks with his pants unzipped. The night before last, he came over with a bucket of baby ducks asking my help in checking my shop for others, and 20 minutes after that he was back asking if we had a black cat, since one had just been run over. I fear this is the person that I will end up shooting. It will be logically justifiable and legally criminal. I’m just that kinda guy. I may have just accidentally burned some of my eyelashes. Let’s start this before anything else goes sideways.