Quarantine 2 Terminal
Overall Recommendation
Recommendation?
Talk about snack food! This shit’ll make you Jump! Jump! and then fade away out of your consciousness painlessly, like a fever dream. The premise is… as basic as it gets, they filmed the last half of the movie in a dark warehouse, the special effects are fucking awesome, it’s gonna get you somewhere. If you like scary movies that get up in your face like a south Florida stripper, this is for you! Since I’m all about silo’ing things, evidently, I have to put this in the same silo as 28 Days, but this is minor league? Still completely worth watching and full of promise and vigor, but the same thing has already been done with ten times the budget of this and it’s hard to shine in comparison. Now, this is where I hold up the gold medal and ask “Is 28 Days Later in the room?” loudly, and when I’m answered with silence, I pocket it and the silver and then politely offer the Bronze to this film. Wow. I’m really into Bronze lately. Now then. Since I’ve completed my review of the sequel, I consider myself aptly armed to review the first. I’ve seen it too, and recall that it was better than this. Same small set type shit, but I think there’s more action and more zombies and less filler. Is it really filler, though, if it’s 20 minutes of lulling you down so the Startle will get you better? Is that, like “Strategic Filler”? There’s a lot of that in this. But the moments that they set you up for are tasty in their completeness of perfect editing. Who cares if Hoodie can’t act when you’ve got that herky-jerky snarling zombie motion down that well?
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- Watching a pre-Covid movie about travelling via airplane is just funny and foreign now
- PigglyWiggly goes berserkiggly
- The CDC rushes in, fucks up, isn’t the CDC, and adds fuel to the fire
- Running and screaming in a dark warehouse
- Running and screaming in a dark warehouse. *Now with extra NIGHT VISION!
- Justin Bieber is the last man alive and humanity is doomed.
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
Well, I really want to say that the zombies are hamster related. I really think there is a P in that word. I believe it should be Hampster. Like, New Hampshire. It’s not New Hamshire. See? That just looks wrong. Whole lot of emphasis on the ham. And speaking of, Jesus, Piggly wiggly there… dude, talk about a level-boss zombie. But it’s not HAMsters, it’s lab rats. I think. Or cat scratch fever? “Got it from some…” It’s a lab grown thing by a doomsday cult, which would give me the shivers of appreciation if 12 Monkeys didn’t already do the same thing with (sigh) Brad Pitt. These are really 28 Days zombies. Franticly manic in trying to eat your face. Barfing on you if it’s convenient. Unable to be contained in any locked room the minute the door is no longer under observation. I don’t think you need to destroy the brain- I think killing the human host is enough. Uh… and they’re really well done. Like, gold medal level top of the line can’t do better than this unless you incorporate Smell-o-Vision.
Where the money went
Where the money went
I think the movie’s budget went mainly to the special effects. I think they rightly know that no matter what you bring to the table, if the red isn’t effective, the whole effort spins down the drain. These zombies were fucking A-class spot on! And the script about the zombies! Well, let’s just say that… My mom would say to say nothing right here. To not offer up my opinion, especially if it were to prove upsetting to the recipient. But… What the fuck else does a movie critic with Antisocial Personality Disorder do, then? Should I communicate this point through interpretive dance? Ok. I’m ready. (Shuts out the lights and runs in circles screaming, with the only word understandable being the oft repeated “Protocol”). See? Here. Let me go take a really long leap off a short pier. Ya’ll watching?
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
I think the best weapon here was gravity. As in, Gravity is going to help me smash you with this loading divider, and Gravity is a bitch when you’re thrown backwards off a three story scaffolding onto a concrete floor. There wasn’t much zombie killing- it was more like “Tussle violently with the zombie for 40 seconds while everyone shrieks and then shove them away and you both run off into the darkness, adrift like two tugs in the night harbor” I want to know more about that “wrench”. I’m not saying it’s the best weapon possible, but I will admit that if the shit went down and I was in my shop, I’d open that bottom drawer and pull out the one and a half inch crescent wrench for crushing skulls. So, I approve of the weapon, I just think you used a BS prop. That was the brawling weapon cinematic equivalent of using an airsoft pistol as your firearm. Speaking of gravity, they used… like… reverse powered gravity assist to squish the zombie on the top of the catering truck, too. So that was there. Too. Just saying.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
Well, they tripped over some fingers. Does that count? Uh… Like… Yeah. Not a whole lot to write here. This was such traditional fare created so sparingly that a lot of the really cool shit goes down off-screen. Some of it we hear, most of it… is just different as the movie progresses. Not my own- It’s not Rocket Surgery. There wasn’t any innovation, nor was there particular reverence for the genre. This was more about making a horror flick than a zombie movie. I’m not complaining. It’s a good movie.
That was new!
That was new!
You know, it’s not much, but it’s indicative of the talents involved- this movie made great use of black and white night vision. Did a great job of… exploiting our fear of the dark. As I already mentioned, this (Zombies on a plane) isn’t a new premise, nor did they actually spend all that much time on or in the plane, but regardless, this is just weak enough that I’m kinda struggling to remember. Lemme read my notes. Ok. This is not new, but they did a great job of including a disabled character and then utilizing that aspect to enhance various scenes. It didn’t feel contrived. I have never seen such close-up eye yuck done as well as that shot (sorry, Fulci). Oh! And that girl zombie sniffling around in the air while bent 160 degrees backwards? Holy Shit, but that is going to show up in a nightmare of mine some-time.
Review Notes
Review Notes
Lining up on a runway. “Jimmy… Do you like gladiator movies?”
Two flight attendants in the back if a cab… did they just stop making out? Why is one doing up her shirt?
Wow. This movie occurs right before cameras became obsolete.
Gate 42(0)
One is the other’s maid of honor. Her dad wants her to go to flight school.
Wow. The captain or whatever looks like shit. Saying all dogs in his neighborhood are sick, thinks he got sick because of it. Look, I’m not smart, and I’m educated in many the useless way, but I know enough that if a human catches something from a dog, they really need to get to a hospital, ‘cause this is bad news juju. Shit don’t jump species like that unless it’s time for… (drum roll)… a cull.
That is done 2 out of 3! 2 out of 3!!
Got us a sullen 12 year old. I was that sullen 12 year old. But I was… angrier.
Ah, an elderly man in a wheel chair. Dude’s got Parkinson’s. Can’t speak. That’s… yeah.
I would punch that albino grimace in his pannus until he puked purple.
Someone got… hamsters.
Who just bit grimace!
Wow. That guy is really casual with the life or death of his hamsters. I do not approve.
And there’s a cat onboard too?
Dude… Grimace has a seatbelt extender with “The King” on it like Elvis. No. It should be velvet. Or painted. Or both.
God BLESS you.
Hand sanitizer? You have no idea what you’re in for.
Yay! We’re flying!
Oh, shit. There’s a pregnant lady, too. This is gonna get messy. Cats and babies get along like cats and dogs. They try to suck each other’s lifeforce through smothering.
Hoodie made a joke! Hoodie made a joke!
I think that sound is the fat guy snoring.
How can we hear it over the slurping? Yuck!
Oh, this guy on the cell is a twat.
So is the guy who grabbed his phone. But I understand him.
We got a PhD trying to get his Mack on. Henry. H. H is for Hamster.
Oh! And the cat scratched the old lady!
God BLESS you.
What does the FAA say about… Well… I mean, this is wishful thinking for most, but a weird reality for some.
Piggy piggy is all out of it and fucked up.
Henry wants Tea? WUSS!
Laptop showing the CDC and LA and stuff. Referencing the first movie.
Checking in on piggly-wiggly… Oh, shit! He just hurled all over the stewardess!
“Stop the plane! Let me off!”
Masks? You don’t know the half of it.
The cat… is eating piggly’s puke!
Oh, jesus! Piggly just went full linebacker! Ran over the stewardess and trying to get into the cabin!!
Henry is trying to Help!
So is Mr. Laptop! And Hoodie!
Hoodie is down! Laptop is whooping ass!
See, now that’d be a phone, not an actual video camera.
Zipties and head-stomps. I like Hamster’s enthusiasm.
Hoodie got a concussion? I’ve gotten a few myself…
Hamster is gonna help! Hero Hamster!
Is it bad I can’t really tell the stewardesses apart? Maybe I have that protoplasmia thing Brad Pitt has.
Paula. That’s one of them.
“Gotta punch through that weather!”
Jenny. That’s the other one.
Well, this is some shitty driving.
“My presentation is on there! I need that!”
Why are they… ok, I don’t believe for a second that those two waifs lifted that lump.
Oh shit.
What the fuck??
Hamster with the jacket! Hamster with the jacket!
Where did the blood come from?
Did… she? Get bit? (Already forgot names)
Got the zombie in the potty.
“Only two lousy doses of Lidocaine?” Um. I believe that’s generally a topically applied, like, numbing agent. Specifically, as in dental work. Maybe I’m crazy? But I don’t think that all airplane first aid kits are blue (That’s just stupid oversight, people!) or that they contain injectable narcotics. I’m… gonna check next flight.
Dude sounds like a werewolf in there.
Taking gate 87, eh?
“Evacuate! Evacuate!”
Wow. This is not a controlled exit.
Or, an exit at all. Shit’s all locked up. They’re locked out.
Hoodie making a run for it!
Where did he get to?
Oh, there he is. They’re all in a maintenance area.
“Where all the shit gets done that you’ll never see.”
Ok. I’m gonna rename them Nose, and Broken. Only because, well, I think that’s the identifying difference between the two.
Let’s yell at each other about lockdown! Wait until you need to wear masks and stay home.
Sirens… approaching. Funny how that can be such a good or bad sound.
Oh shit. That is a PERIMETER.
That is a HELICOPTER.
That is a tarp all over your windows.
Nose needs someone to tell her what to do. What a charming personality trait!
911 doesn’t know of this?
Everyone is yelling. These people are jerks. Ageist jerks.
Vest is off to the rescue.
I mean, well, so is half the group.
There go the lights. Bad news.
Does that mean… The Juice is loose?
That inside-plane shot is hella-creepy.
Do not open that!
There’s red everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
Oh, shit! That’s the old guy with Parkinson’s…
Oh… shit. That’s the broken zip ties.
Oh, shit. Paused the movie ‘cause my phone wriggled and then got caught up in it squirreling down the jeep parts hole. Whole lotta money can’t fill that hole.
And they’re climbing down into the dark, square hole.
Down in the hold, searching for… like, a defibrillator? Or something?
And they (obviously) are not alone…
Oh, shit! The hamsters got out!
Dude… Got a gun! I mean, I’ve flown with firearms a couple times, but… I don’t know that I’d even *think* to retrieve and utilize them in this situation. It’d just be off my radar. Jesus, I’m stupid.
Oh! What the fuck! Startled! Was that a hamster?
Laptop’s laptop got red on it.
And there’s someone crawling around in the back of the plane.
And breathing hard. Right behind you.
Shit! Startled!
Oh, shit… Vest is lucky there were no through and throughs…
I guess you can kill these with body shots?
Are they going to Chainsaw Massacre us with the “Running away yet hindered by a wheelchair-bound survivor” with the decision necessary? That’s a good one!
Oh shit! Startled!
The old lady was talking a lucid and then she went zombie. Bad. Can the zombies speak or deceive?
Hoodie suddenly gains humanity?
Dad told her to “Take the stick”? That doesn’t sound good.
Oh. He means like, flying the plane.
And you wouldn’t be solo if he’s sitting there right next to her.
I went through that same flying experience. I seized up, stopped breathing, and didn’t move or breathe for 30 seconds. The pilot asked if I wanted him to take over again, and I nodded rapidly. Now? I think I’m more comfortable with wing suiting and base jumping than piloting an airplane. Do you know how many motor vehicle accidents I’ve been in? How many times my motorcycle and I, according to the known laws of physics, shouldn’t have made it home? I’m so very aware of my… inclination to push vehicles until things go sideways, and with planes… not only is there a whole lot of technical shit going on as well, I don’t really know that I understand enough about how they stay up to call myself a believer, and it’s really one of those things best left to people who believe in the machine they’re piloting.
Wandering off by ourselves…
Did they film this in an Amazon distribution…
RED! There’s red!
Ah!
Shit! Startled!
“So shoot me, or shut the fuck up!” Damn. She roll hard. She punk rock.
Wow. They’re all her passengers.
“People-rabies”
Aw, hell. Is that a hamster? Or a mouse?
Oh, shit! Dude got bit on the head!
Why would you let that thing live? I meant the mouse, but now I refer to all bitten things.
That’s a lab rat!
Hamster!
“They had little stubby things!”
I like hoodie. I like his willingness to use vulgarity.
Oh shit! Piggly!!
Startled!!
And they all worked together to throttle the fat man. The end.
CDC is on the way! Boy, they’re gonna fix that virus real good! No chance in hell it’ll turn into a… pandemic.
Wow, this guy is bossy.
Got a whole shit-ton of vials.
Ahhh… protocol. That’s a great answer!
Oh, we have an anti-vaxxer!
Do I not understand the meaning of the word “protocol”? Hang on a sec. “the official procedure or system of rules governing affairs of state or diplomatic occasions” “the original draft of a diplomatic document, especially of the terms of a treaty agreed to in conference and signed by the parties” “a formal or official record of scientific experimental observations” So… No. I think *I* know what the word means. I don’t think *they* know what the word means.
Shit! The cat bit the old lady!
Fuck, that’s too much strobe effect. Eye-mop.
Old guy got out of his wheelchair… Shit!
HAHA!! The CDC guys can’t get out now either! Or, rather uh…
So… everyone who went outside just got mowed down. That’s not good.
Incoming!
So they head… for the catering truck. WTF, these people being led by Chris Farley?
That’s not good. We’re up one zombie and down one pregnant lady.
Stop misusing the word “protocol”!
So, they were like Skittles in a shot?
CBDT. Something about Terrorism. And Homeland Security.
Something about a biolab. This is made. They need a cure.
This guy is just feeding us all the reason for the zombies.
Oh! Shit! Nice moves! Got the gun from Hamster!
Oh… Well… I applaud your ferocity and determination. Class act.
Hey, Vest just remembered something about a tunnel! Like in Aliens, when Bishop has to make it to the lander?
SHIT! Startled! Coming in through the roof! “Tear the roof off the mother sucker!” P-Funk! Oh yeah! Ok. Now I feel like the Kool-Aid guy, and that’s not cool, man. Not cool at all.
How is the gun out of bullets? He came with 4 in the clip?
Oh. The reverse elevator smoosh. That’s… that’s new.
I’ve always wanted to go back on the conveyor belt at airports. I wonder if this is authentic. Looks more like an Amazon distribution center
Whoah! Who just got grabbed? I barely care, but I should know…
Oh! It was the girlfriend.
Why is there a clip in *that* bag?
Paula is zombie!
Paula… succumbed to gravity.
Nice little sprawl there.
I don’t think that’s a real wrench.
Looking through blueprints? SCHmatics?
Hoodie stole Hamster’s shit!
And it looks like he’s part of a Doomsday Cult. Noice.
Zombies everywhere, and Hamster to the rescue. Wow. That could be a good song. Hamster to the rescue.
How the hell did he get bit? He was up on the catwalk. On the catwalk.
“How many people were you planning to kill?” “As many as it takes.”
Got a nice lecture going on from Hamster about world overpopulation and our need to cull. Ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure, I present- the cat glitching.
“Kansas City. Kansas City, here I come…”
“Antibodies need the virus to kick in.” Ummm… What?
What is it? It’s a rip from Resident Evil.
Ah. We’re ranting about the government. I agree. Do not trust the government.
Do not… Uh… What the fuck! No! YUCK! “Stick a needle in my eye.” Shit! Yuck!
Hamster took hoodie hostage. Ok, that’s a good children’s book title if I’ve ever heard one.
Uh… like, climbing a ladder. I missed something.
Wow. Laptop was really intense. I’m… kinda shaking. I mean, tremors and caffeine aside, I’m…
That was intense.
Shut the gate on him! Nice! Repeatedly! Nicer!
A-ha! The zombies hunt by sniffing.
And that… I have never seen contortion like that.
Where the fuck did… night vision?
CDC left it? I didn’t see any.
Oh, shit… bite marks look bad in black and white. I swear, there’s a Paul Simon song in there somewhere.
This is some predator type shit… whoa. Wow.
Never seen such a good use of night vision. That was awesome.
Dude! Are they mice or the lab rats? I would not be that casual!
And I still don’t think it’s a wrench! What size is that? Metric or Standard?
Hey, there’s Hoodie! He’s got a gun. I mean, he could have a gun.
Hoodie, I don’t believe you.
Oh, shit…! I have no idea who she’s fighting but it’s fucking awesome! I think it’s Hamster!
Nice shooting!! But… how was that clip loaded with only 3 shots? Does that guy travel with multiple ¼ loaded magazines?
Nice gurgling. Very Bishop. Or, I mean, the one before Bishop AND Bishop!
Hoodie, stop trying to act. Just break something. Yeah! Kick it!
I’d have slapped your ass by now. And I mean that as in your face. That’s an important distinction.
Why… is she… slowing… OH. SHIT.
She should not be following him! She’s been bit!
Dude, start scooting! FASTER!
She’s literally salivating. And you’re fake-acting at her.
Hoodie, shut up. Run.
Oh, fuck. I think I saw steam out of her nose like a bull…
Which I’ve never actually seen in real life.
I have seen a shit-ton of deer recently.
Ahhh… Back away… back away…
Kid, move them feet.
You’re not getting that Hoodie back.
So, with this Justin Bieber haircut clone the last person alive… Humanity is fucked, regardless of zombie rats.
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
So. I deserve a hand. Not only did I do a review last night, but I also worked on the draft of the letter I’m going to send to my diagnosing brain-doc, as well as working on the final template of the reviews as to be uploaded to the site. Which still hasn’t been pushed yet.
I’m doing all these reviews and they’re just sitting here on my hard drive waiting for me to act. So, that’s one of the biggest things that I’m asking the therapist for help with. I want Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to overcome the anxiety paralysis I get and to help me be more productive.
I’m very proud of myself for achieving this. The effort was like spitting out of a car window while passing by a group of people. I felt the slightest tinge of possibility, of opportunity, and I sat up and grabbed the computer and did the thing. It was as easy as it’s been hard. I can act.
I should clarify; I’ve always said that I can act up and I can act out, but I can’t act. And I think that I could. I believe that I’d have some specific limitations regarding scope, range, and breadth, but I do think I could do a great job being one of the thugs that gets mowed down in the first introduction scene where we meet the good natured yet bad-assed detective as he’s trying to buy a candy-bar in the convenience store we’re robbing and then we threaten a kid so he’s forced to spring into action and kill us all in a blaze of handgun fire and quips.
That idea of the effort reminding me of spitting out of a car window though… Not my thing. The few people I’ve spit on, it’s been because I would have gone to jail if I’d attacked them, which was what I desperately wanted to do.
But one night, when I was 16 or 17, my friend C_____ and I had driven down to Amherst to the Taco-Bell so I could get nachos, something that I spent a summer fixated on the way only a neurodivergent can. That night, I must have been flush, because I bought a huge slushie drink too. I barely remember any of this, and all of the drunken nights are a singular blur, vomiting themselves out in a disorganized stream.
I think we’d seen some drunk college kid staggering down the sidewalk as we drove to the Taco-Bell, and then on the way home we saw him again, passed out on the median grass by the side of the road… Neither C_____ or I spoke, but he kept the wheel and speed steady as I leaned out the window with half frozen beverage in hand…
Laughing, we were already gone. I miss that yellow and fake wood station wagon. I miss C_____.
In undergrad, I worked as the 3rd key in a video game store. There was a guy who worked there named B__. He was a couple years younger than me and soft as hell. His parents made him get a job, so he applied to all the video game stores and only video game stores repeatedly until he got a job centered around video games. I used to give B__ little dime-bags of nug here and there, since I was the only real connect he and his equally sheltered friends had.
One spring during the torrential rains, I was giving B__ a ride home, and as we exited the highway, some poor fool was trudging along the side of the pavement. It was a corner, and banked, and the rain was so thick that the gutter was swollen and wide. The car in front of me, as it rounded the corner, dipped into the puddle briefly, sending a showering plume against the back of the pedestrian.
He reacted by turning around, suddenly, and raising both middle fingers towards the oncoming traffic, which was me. And I was not trying to avoid the puddle as the car before me had been attempting. I think I was driving and old Pathfinder with limo tint then, and the wide tires at slow speed powered through the water instead of hydroplaning, and literal gallons of water crested outward and against his chest, splashing up to drown him where he stood.
B__ squealed with joy like a piglet being tickled. I miss B__, but not the way I miss C_____. I’d knife B__ to have C_____ back. Ben introduced me to R_____, a tall, skinny Prince-type weirdo… the kind of person who looks natural while holding a switchblade with a dainty lacy-gloved hand. B__ and R_____ were playing with a packing tape gun, and B__ started at R_____’s feet, and then R_____ spun in circles as B__ raised the tape, and they created a standing “R_____ Cocoon”, who could at best hop very small distances. Which were not enough to evade me and my single right hand index finger, which I used to push him over until he toppled.
Maybe there is something to this ASPD diagnosis, after all. Maybe she *is* onto something. Do I share this guide with her? Who should I share this guide with? I’m feeling like it’s about ready to pop. I have about 60 or so… maybe a couple more than that, actually- movies reviewed. That comes out to hundreds of pages of writing. Books. Plural.
I told my parents about the guide, even sent them early drafts as I worked to distill it. My mom thinks I’m crazy, and my dad thinks I should try writing without the influence of marijuana. He never was a fan of Hunter S. Thompson. I think so my mom will see that I’m trying to do something, anything- with my life, and I hope that if I can reach some people who like my writing for the writing itself, then maybe that could be as good as my dad being published.
The neighbor is mowing the lot next door and it sounds like he’s running over bowling balls and gravel with his riding mower. I have no plans to share this with him, though.
Well. That was quite the fiasco. I just attempted to take a hit, but the propane torch died, so I grabbed our last blue cylinder. And the torch head wouldn’t screw on. So I tried a different torch head. And then a 3rd. And then the 3rd not only didn’t work, but it got hella-stuck and I had to fight to get it off; my wrists are so wrecked from never wrapping them.
I didn’t panic though, I knew we had another, weaker butane torch in the Adventure Room, so I went to get it… and it ran until it was almost empty without heating the banger anywhere near orange. When I went looking in the Adventure Room to refill it, all of the fuel canisters I could find didn’t fit, and I even tried, getting a blast of frozen in the process of figuring out that no, that’s not sealing correctly.
I was beside myself and about to pull out our Jetboil, and then I noticed yet another torch head… which fit on the butane fuel cannisters… See, one of the great things about hoarding is that every once in a while you actually can find where you hid that thing that might come in handy someday, and then you’re able to put 1+1 together and it feels like a million bucks, daddy-o; you’ve lowered your self-expectations that much. But!
Not in this instance. In this story, I found the tool that allowed me to do the thing, and it only took about 20 minutes of searching and tinkering and getting frozen by unconstrained liquid-to-gas conversion. Man, working on taking a second hit, that torch head is weak. I understand that it’s more designed to melt sugar glaze on a cake, but still.
With 4th of July coming up, I need to ask why fireworks are all labelled “Danger! Flammable!”? (cough cough)(cough cough)(cough cough)(cough cough) I mean, that’s the fucking point of them. Everyone knows what fireworks are, and yes, there are still indigenous tribes somewhere that don’t know of fireworks, but guess what? They can’t read English, either. And they live in rain forests, which start with “RAIN” which is the primary leading cause of firework shows being cancelled by a magnitude of many. If someone can read and write English, they know what a firework is. If you know what a firework is… fuck, if you know Katy Perry you know what a firework is, regardless of ESL, ETL, EFL, ETC. Why label it with a warning referring to it’s very reason of existence?
It’s like a woodchipper having labels about not sticking your hand into the spinning blades. There should come a point where someone says “No. We’re not going to warn or advise against doing that, because only an idiot would do that. Everyone knows not to do that.”
What about the children? Is that why we have them? Really? I will give you all of tomorrow to find me a child that slowly and safely navigates their surrounding environment while prioritizing adherence to all signs of directive? A child that reads every warning and heeds every caution? Not kids that old, they know better, ok…
Well, you sit a baby next to a roaring woodchipper and see which direction they crawl. If they crawl into the whirling, gnashing blades, well, shit. I’m glad we got that out of the way before they got a driving license, huh? Talk about a Menace to Society.
In fact, just like I believe that all driving license renewals should be contingent upon successfully passing the tennis-ball test; (You go to the DMV and stand in front of a wall. They toss tennis balls at you and you have to catch or avoid a certain percentage to demonstrate that your reflexes are still capable of driving.) I believe uh… I lost my train…
I believe all babies should be given the wood chipper test. I’m not talking about anything diabolical or stacked against them. Yes, I know I’m a huge proponent of culling the masses and I’ve advocated such things as arming the homeless and mentally ill simply to rapidly deplete their numbers while providing something interesting to watch- and as such, Cluster Bee Sorry, I’m just gonna blink at you for a while if you try to explain to me why this is abhorrent thinking…
I’m not saying that newborns have to climb up a greased chute or get ground to bits, nothing that dramatic. But how about we put all four year-olds in a room with a running woodchipper and then give them some toys and snacks and stuff and leave them for an hour. The children that, hearing the mechanical mayhem and nastiness coming from the woodchipper’s mouth… what? You’ve never actually stood next to a woodchipper? You’ve never ran a chainsaw… yet you have opinions on how other people should use them? Opinions like “Don’t use woodchippers as a Darwinian filter to remove the dullest sticks and shortest branches from the thicket.”?
It’s like that fucking politician said years ago when explaining the difference between art and pornography said something horribly subjective like “I can’t explain it but I know it when I see it.” and other people heard this and thought it was wisdom? How about- if you can’t explain something, shut the fuck up and sit down and think about it a lot more until you are able to explain it, and if, after thinking it over for a long time, you realize it’s bullshit, you have to promise to look around and start trying something that’s working for someone else who has similar goals as yours instead of sticking a flag-o-fascism in your front yard and blaming it all on the _________who took our ______. Or hit you in the _______ with a frozen _________ while you were drunkenly passed out amongst the shrubberies.
It’s called Personal Accountability, Llana! (Actually, it’s Situational Awareness. And Cardio.) and yet still I have no idea what to watch tonight. I’m leaning towards Quarantine 2: Terminal. I’m not sure why. Although… Wow. I was just searching around in Amazon under “Zombie Undead” and although it DID give me the movie Zombie Undead first option (which makes me happy since I just went on a big rant about it not doing that very same thing) it also suggested Staten Island Summer which looks like standard kegs & breasts college movie for Jr. High guys…
It also suggests Messiah of Evil which I have saved to my queue and believe to be a movie that I have been searching for for years. I saw it once… no idea where or how. But I’ve been looking for it since. It’s got some of the creepiest shit I’ve ever seen in it and although it’s like watching a zombie movie through a haze of erotic LSD, I’ve been wanting to go back and watch it again. Which is the same thing as saying “I would become addicted to Erotic LSD if such a thing were available.” I’ll take “Things you never envisioned yourself saying” for $1400, Alex.
Quarantine 2: Terminal “A plane is taken over by a mysterious virus. When the plane lands it is placed under quarantine. Now a group of survivors must band together to survive the quarantine.” I’ve had a thought. I’d say epiphany if the dogs spoke English, but they don’t, so I’ll have to settle for having written it there a tad earlier.
But- I’ve had one- and that’s that although I loath the “Snakes on a plane” concept, there is an equally large “Plane-oriented” silo of zombie movies. I think we’re watching… one of three zombie on a plane movies. There’s that scene in World War Z, as well as… uh… shit. I forgot the third one. But Brad Pitt hucking that grenade… class act and oh so nimble. I liked the injured soldier, too, although she violates the “Unless you have an amputee to play the…” rule. I don’t hold it against her, is what I’m saying. I think. So… I mean, this doesn’t sound like that interesting of a movie. I’m sure I’ve seen and liked it, although I can’t remember anything and keep getting it confused with the Rec. series. Although, I think that’s in Spanish?
Who the fuck was it that I saw in concert that closed their set with a funk/punk rendition of “Snakes on a plane!” to the tune of Rage Against the Machine’s “Bulls on Parade”? It’s a little after 9pm and I’ve just finished the rest of my coffee and am about to take a last hit and then start this. I need to understand how much caffeine I can drink and then get to sleep with the help of how much of what sleeping medication I ingest. Feel like I’m spinning at the moment. Shit. Need to be able to fall asleep tonight, he realizes, just after he finishes his coffee.
There’s a BBQ to go to tomorrow. Yay! And that’s only partially ironic- I may be anxious and nervous about meeting and being around people, but… there might be some really good food. I guess I’ve identified one of my motivations. When I get into therapy, I’ll just tell the doc that Burnt Ends are my reward for following through with a plan.