Virus: 32
Overall Recommendation
Recommendation?
This is a scary movie. It’s not completely new or perfect or anything like that, but it’s good. And scary. It’s good and scary. But I’ll diffuse further. Heh. This has some really fucking scary parts, and some dumb shit that’s still better than anything The Asylum ever did. The worst of this is better than 90% of 90% of all zombie movies. I mean, this is some quality shit! It may not revolutionize anything, but fuck, it’s a great movie! I’m around 60 or so reviews into The Guide now, and I believe this is the best I’ve seen so far. The fact is that the main differentiating premise here is an awfully dumb one, but the movie that they built up around it happens to be fucking straight dope kick ass. Where this movie took it’s ideas from? Liberally, I’ll say, and faithfully, I might add. Read through the review notes and list the name checked. 28, Dawn, Run Lola Run, let me reach in a little sideways and throw out the most holy of vaunted The Thing, if only for the way light and smoke are used to create a sense of lost. Along with this being a first in so good that I cleaned a bong ½ way through to celebrate it, I can also say that this is easily good enough to watch again with my wife within the next couple nights. She loves a good scare, and damn, this is gonna get her. Watch this movie. Watch this movie now, and quickly. Watch this movie because it’s everything you like and only a little bit of stuff worth pointing and laughing at. No, even less than that. Butt hell, my pit is ripping chicken grease farts so bad my head is aching. I’ve had too much coffee. This is a great movie. Watch it.
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- Edward strangles little Mr. Peeper
- Cool dad is taking reluctant daughter to go spend time with negligent druggy mother
- Mom takes the kid to work and locks her in a tiny rainy gym
- Zombies. They’re here, they’re pissed, they’re gonna kill something and rest 32 seconds.
- And then they’re gonna kill something else. And then he rested for 32 seconds. And it was good.
- There’s crap about a pregnant zombie and a baby and a staplegun and shit. Watch this movie. It’s really good.
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
Think about the 28 zombies, but then give them a bit more reasoning power. And something to do with the number 42. No, wait… 32. Yeah. That’s it. I mean, it isn’t, but, like… if you throw a cat or kick a man to death, you get 32 seconds in a closet with 47 ripened dates or your choice of figs? One thing is for certain though. These zombies cannot swim. Not in the least. Their corpses float nicely though, but then again, I guess all of ours will. After a while of floating aimlessly, they do revive and start thrashing around, but they sure aren’t swimming. The whole premise is these are rage zombies, and they beat you to death. But once they’ve killed something, they rest peacefully for exactly 32 seconds, and then like a binary switch, it’s killing time again. Great AFI song, there.
Where the money went
Where the money went
This shit is visually striking. From the opaque windows to the shadows to the fog to the lighting… this is richly shot, and intelligently done in a very studied DIY approach. The special effects, as they are, are also perfect, but this is a movie where the knowledge there’s an unseen zombie in the room with you is more frightening than if that zombie had you by the collar and was trying to gnaw your throat. The acting here is great. I have no idea what caliber we’re dealing with, since it’s all in a foreign language, but the screaming is great, the zombies… fuck, they nailed the zombies. I don’t know exactly how they got the money for this though, because the whole “Let’s make them rest for half a minute or so after killing something” just isn’t strong enough to carry the whole film. They should have left it out and just made a straight up zombie movie. Which they did. They just kinda muddled it up a little by changing priorities from “Book it as fast as you can” to “Move exactly at a rate that will cause you to hit 32 seconds with still a dozen feet and 5 zombies to go”. Look, I’m knitting the picking here. Don’t listen to anything bad I say. This movie fucking rocks and you need to see it.
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
I can’t really call this a weapon, but throwing a cat… even through a window, as an example. But see, I have an affinity for it, nay, a true love, a first love, a Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt and I on horseback while everyone else is away from the plantation type love… simply because of scene in The Simpsons where the Crazy Cat lady is hucking them at folk. How’s using a zombie’s insane killing drive against it, judo style, but so judo jedi that you never actually have to touch him… you just wave your arms in front of you and watch while it thrashes and seizures to death. I mean, you can actually do this with just about anyone who can’t swim. They don’t need to be a zombie. Like, really muscular, ripped people sink. Like fucking stones. Every once in a while, it’s good to be a chubby white guy. Let’s just admit it may involve maids and nudity at a Baltimore hotel.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
Not sure if this goes here or in the That was new! but the first zombie to show up to menace the girl? In the reflection of the puddle?? That’s… fuck, that’s beautifully shot. Such a good startle too, since… who the hell would film anything in the reflection of an unexplained puddle in the middle of the gym floor? Super good double-bloody-hand-window-slap. Super good!
That was new!
That was new!
This movie set a new personal record for me. Not exactly a PR like in sports, where it’s quantifiable, so this is even more important. This is binary, like your virginity. Either got it or you don’t. And movies have either made me stop and clean a bong in appreciation of how awesome I was feeling and I wanted to tear a chunk off something clean and yummy. This cheered me up. Lots of movies cheer me up. This… this uplifted me. Higher and higher…. This movie is the first movie to have a scene so fucking perfect that I paused the movie and sat back wondering how to best celebrate finding something so good. This is like the first (Rollins) He Never Died movie. It’s just that fucking good! You want new? Who has filmed an underwater scene where two humans watch a thrashing zombie drown?
Review Notes
Review Notes
Birds and guitar. Nice mellow start.
Spanish? Portuguese? Italian? It’s one of them.
Feeding birds.
Simon! Si mon!
Oh. No, mon… no, mon!!
Dude ‘bout to Ozzy that poor bird. And then, his wife.
Outside… pouting.
Fuck, it’s hard to take notes and read subtitles.
Have to help mom dare? Strange.
BONG!
BUTT!
A Brazilian?
“Nobody cares about me either.”
I think… she’s going out on a date?
Her kid? What?
She’s a bad mom. Give back the bong, she brought her own skateboard.
Well, shit. I know how she feels. That’s one hell of a devastating weapon.
I hate them as parents.
I double hate her as a mom.
Dude just… panicked.
You’re taking your kid to work and you don’t have a car.
Oh… that’s fucking awesome.
You can see the beginnings of the shit hitting the fan… people chasing each other… cars burning.
Shits starting to feel like Run Lola Run
Why is her mom making her hide?
Do we know the world is ending yet or not?
Well, we just got the title, so…
LUIGI!!
I… well, I’d take her up on it.
Although, she is a bit untrustworthy.
What kinda place is this?
A cat? That doesn’t bode well.
“I have eight, mother.” Interesting translation. She’s refusing coffee because she’s only eight years old. Who translated this? Is there going to be unknown language singing? Especially as plot annecdotes? Oh, I can only help.
News reporting on a disease.
“It’s not a good idea to give me a gun.”
Is she a security guard?
“Literally fuck off.”? That’s not good parenting.
But she has smoke grenades? That are kept in the gym ball-locker?
What the hell kinda guard is she?
She’s stealing them all? What the fuck? This woman us useless!
Ahh… a camera, a cast, cctv, we’re learning so much about the setup for whatever happens.
Oh, that was good. Fucking bloody double hand-against-the-foggy-glass. But this one was through a puddle’s reflection. Never seen that before.
Upstairs, mom… is rifling through desks for cigarettes? She is a bad person. Or is that a joint? Either way, you stole it and you’re… well, maybe it’s yours. But if you stash drugs at work, you’re an idiot.
And off to examine the corriders!
Lots of neat camera work here.
“Puta madre”. I know enough Spanish to know that means akin to “Son of a bitch”. This translated to “Damn”.
Still, lights are off.
Ahh, a fuse that she’s gonna fix.
That’s a 2nd gym? A dry gym? Why not put her daughter in the much bigger, not water damaged gym?
What the fuck is she babbling about?
Today would have been Nico’s birthday? Who?
And why they having the conversation over walkies when they could be spending this time talking in person?
That’s a lie. She lies a lot.
Apparently, she doesn’t have a “keeping children alive” track record above .500. That’s… below average, but isn’t that more of what our world needs? More less people? To get our population back to a sustainable level?
Jesus, there’s another burning car. And a guy beating the shit out of another.
These zombies seem fond of kicking. Haven’t seen any biting yet tho.
Guy blaming the junkies…
I would get my kid, sit our asses in the control room, and smoke joints whenever possible.
Oh, that was good. A guy just climbed in through a really high gym window.
Her kid is missing. Skateboard is still there.
Haven’t really seen the kid do shit with her skate board tho.
Jeeze, they do a good job with the lighting. Very creepy.
The guy is running around up there.
He’s coming down… the sound… it’s perfect!
Oh! Skateboard to the face!
Shit! He’s up again. Didn’t phase him!
Should have kicked him back down the stairs.
It’s total bloody anarchy out there. Bloody.
Yeah. See, if you only had your kid that’d be a great place to hole up.
Where the fuck IS she?
Oh, shit… the commemorative tattoo. The “bad mom” tattoo. Well, gonna have one for your other wrist now, too.
Kid. Pick up the phone.
Ok, kid… go lock yourself in a closet. That’s the best she’s got?
That’s the secret signal? Weak.
One of them out there…
Who’s that guy leading around the other kid?
Dude. Lock the fucking lock. That’s one of the primary distinguishable things about them.
Who just grabbed her??
This zombie stalking is pretty dope. Can it figure out tv? Or a phone?
Or spilled coffee? What the fuck? Methodical searching… red all over him…
Well, shit. They know to look in closets. Cabinets. Whatever.
Do they know to look under desks? (great things are found under desks)
Oh, shit. That cat got LAUNCHED.
Homeboy does not like cats.
This… this is an EX-CAT!
Locked him and his dead cat in!
Wonder how long that glass will hold?
My wrist hurts. Either typing from this angle or the bag-work the past couple days.
Kid, hide.
Kid, hide.
Dude is still abusing the cat corpse.
So, looks like 32 seconds… for what? Every urge to kill? Like, can be sated for 32 seconds once you kill something?
It looked like the street was supposed to show a re-animation, but the guy who killed the cat already was a zombie, so what does the 32 seconds of him kneeling there blankly show?
A very very spooky locker room.
Good place to test bouncy balls.
Oh, fuck… She’s not alone…
Ball is bouncing again…
I’m fucking petrified!
Shit gonna jump out!
I can feel it!
The zombie is playing with the bouncy ball!
Hiding in a locker… Isn’t that what you told your kid to do?
Leaving it? Are you nuts?
Fucking strobe gonna set me off like Battling Seizure Robots
Taking a shower?
HOLY SHIT!! JUMPED!! Might have squealed a little bit. My fucking heart is pounding. Some of that is the three cups of coffee, but… Jesus, that was good.
FUCK. THAT. WAS. GOOD.
Who? Is one person a good guy?
Everyone in the pool!
Bong hits!! YAY!! (For me. I paused the movie. That was awesome!)
Fuck, that was good.
Zombie drowned.
Does that zombie have stigmata? Or, like stigmata warts?
Ok. A good guy.
Luis.
Ok, all the zombies have marks on their hands. Like scars.
I can’t tell if she has them or not.
What does Luis want?
This is fucked. I am RAPIDLY losing my trust in Luis.
Mimi? That’s the wife’s name? Unless this is all a whole ruse.
Fishing? What does…
I don’t trust this guy.
Look. You don’t leave your child to help some random stranger’s wife give birth, even if he did just save your ass by tossing it in a pool.
Iris. That’s her name.
Oh, this is bad. Iris is a zombie. She’s duct taped to a wheel chair.
Luis seems to think that the baby won’t be sick.
How… he knows her daughters name.
What the fuck. This is crazy that people do. This is bad crazy that people do.
He looks like the fucking tramp.
Hmm. He knows a bit about fighting.
He IS a good negotiator though.
Good communicator, too.
“Today is not a day to be scared of madness.” I like it.
I can’t help but dislike her watch.
Zombies running around in the tunnels…
I would make sure I was on top going up the stairs and then kick her down on him. She is just not taking advantage of a chest-stomp when someone is lower in gravity than you. Especially when you’re kicking a zombie wheelchair combo at them. Buys you plenty of time. Unless the zombie gets free, though, I guess…
Got plans for a boat.
He’s got a gun. Where?
What the fuck? Why she go down in the pool?
Oh, he is fucked up.
Here comes another one!
Oh, shit, that’s dad.
Nico? No. You guys fucked that one up.
Growing up, my little brother had a friend named N___ who was the child of over-educated failure. He always had a runny nose, his fingernails were grossly long, he smelled bad. I can’t remember if that last one is true or not. But his parents were uber liberals and the kid ran wild in the same way a semi-feral goat walks around in a rain jacket 4 sizes too big for it on days when there’s not a cloud in the sky. One day, my dad came and asked me to go looking for my brother and N___ with him and the dog. It was getting late, they had been due home hours ago. After experiencing me, it takes a lot for my parents to worry, but I could tell my dad was concerned that brother and idiot friend were missing. We went up and using the little tracking that we both kinda know, figured out where they went, as in, which direction. I’ll be honest- N___ wore big rubber boots all the fucking time, so it was kinda like tracking a lifted Jeep Wrangler on Super Swampers, but then, after a couple miles, there was a mud-pit with signs of struggle, and upon further examination, my dad pulled one of N___’s boots outta the mud. We continued tracking them, now following a gimped out wet-sock jeep. The trail we were following them on was a maintenance trail for the high-tension lines up in the hills above where we lived, and there were some nasty ravines, and dad made us move quick. We finally caught up to them. Turns out that my brother had been trying to get his idiot friend to turn around for a while, but N___ was intent on exploring to see where the trail went. I never actually followed it forever either- I kinda knew it’d just lead to civilization some place. It’s a fucking electrical line. They go from A to B. I was obsessed with going *up* the mountain, higher and higher. But N___? Fuck, I think they were going to Narnia or something. Come to think of it, I don’t think my brother hung out with N___ much after that incident. I wonder where N___ is on the spectrum or disorder chart? If I could stand him, we could be a crime-fighting team. Talk about people you haven’t thought of in 30 years and you suddenly want to peek in on.
Oh, shit! She just admitted that she caused Nico’s death at the pool!
And shit is going south! Zombies coming, zombie water breaking… I guess that’s “Zombies coming” too, in a really not good way.
Orange fog. So much orange fog.
FUCK! Startled again! Fuck.
Oh, this is gross. Zombie with a knife gonna open up the pregnant lady…
WHY THE FUCK??
Luis!! To the rescue!
Still dragging around his zombie wife.
“Go get something to disinfect?” That’s… lost cause.
I did a shit-ton of disinfecting today, actually.
Luis, you can’t make someone else do this shit?
Why isn’t Luis doing it?
Oh, fuck, that’s so gross. I’ve never seen a baby that… baby…
That’s baby. Yuck. Baby is yuck. Baby is yuck.
She looks like she’s still pregnant.
Giving her a pigeon? As rewaed for giving birth?
Giving the baby to the zombie?
What the fukck you thinking.
Whole lot of screaming and then the lights go out and I’m damn near reaching for a gun.
Fucking baby and mom is gone.
So fucking glad I have the lights on.
So fucking glad this has subtitles.
Zombie has the baby. Red all over her.
Is she squishing it’s head?
What… Luis… shot his wife.
His wife was going to eat their baby.
There’s hope for Luis, I guess.
Her daughter is in the boiler room. No chance of Freddy there at ALL.
Zombies incoming!
I want to point one of the guns at the screen, but I’m afraid I’d Startled and fire it.
I’m kinda trembling at the moment. My arms are shaking.
Backapacka.
Bloody backapacka.
Blood trail…
Her cast is off…
The fire? Is that her? The charred corpse?
It can’t be. But holy shit it’s an epic shot.
Holy shit, that’s an epic meltdown.
That’s an epic pistol.
Really taking a musical page out of 28
Suicide? No?
Ok, something else.
A rat.
Mouse, maybe.
Red light… up the stairs…
Red light… into dark hallway
Green light
Red light.
Two types of pebbled glass?
Secret knock!
Ok, so, she’s alive.
Ok. Sneaking out to a boat. Dawn of the Dead anyone?
Oh shit! The zombie is watching the monitors!
Rats mean it’s safe. Unless, of course, we getting Bu-Bolic up in heah.
Got some frozen strawberries. I’m in heaven.
Start a fire? Ok, it gets rid of the rats… are they… yeah, she’s using the rats as bait. A decoy.
Oh, this is kinda… I mean… I think this literal ticking bomb thing is a bit beneath you, based on what you’ve shown so far. I’m afraid enough already, I don’t…
Well, this is effective.
More effective than that gun. Ha! Thwack to the head, it works just fine!
Now we’re in the hallway hammer beatdown scene from either Oldboy. Not a bad thing, just… noticing “influences”
Slow motion zombie crowd running to classical music. A genre staple, but so good!
Oh. Shit. So that’s what happened.
Like, a car decoy, too.
An ambulance…bottle-neck.
Luis… Albatross?
Here comes zombie boss.
What the fuck is that wrist thing?
She brought a staple gun?
Dude. That zombie is going shit-hooey. I think she’s…
That’s stomping the likes I haven’t seen since Office Space
Kid, why the fuck aren’t you running? Or attacking? Do either!
Mom just got beat to death because of you!
Well, you and her guilt about Nico.
I think Tata just put a staple into that guys head. I’m not sure that makes a difference.
And now, a beach…is this them all together again in heaven? Or before?
Oh. A staplegun to the head kills them? What kinda staple gun is that? I want one. Fuck walls!
Shit. Looks like Luis kicked it, since the baby is crying.
Well, I guess you could call her “Nica” and take a mulligan on the whole “first child” thing.
Oh, shit. They revive after drowning.
And boy of boy, is the outside world fucked. Fucked on fire.
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
So much to write about but I really don’t feel like writing an intro. I feel like jumping straight into the movie tonight. I think I already know what I’m going to watch. That’s enough to make me jump for joy.
Like in auto mechanics, where the fixing of a problem is easy, but diagnosing it is the real pain in the ass. Anyone can spin a wrench and replace a part, that’s just monkey work. But it takes experience to listen to a specific “squeal-tick-tick-tick-shiver-stutter-start to stall” and say “You need to replace your Mass Air Flow Sensor.”
Now they’re making cars that you literally cannot work on. They’re protecting their software, they’re protecting/preventing the existence of an aftermarket if you still want to keep your warrantee… my buddy just bought a new Suby that he says will void the warrantee if he runs a different type of tire than what came with it. And BMW is now offering subscription heated seats.
The fucking technology is in the car- they *have* heated seats. But what BMW is doing is making it so that you don’t just control the heated seats with a couple buttons in the cockpit. Now, you AND BMW are constantly working together to provide you with the least “owning a car” experience possible.
You have to pay them a monthly protection fee to keep your heated seats from not working. This is the equivalent of a mafia boss telling you that you’re going to keep his nephew on the payroll and provide a salary and benefits, yet never see the person or assign them any responsibilities. It’s just a parasitical drain on your existence. That’s what BMW is now. I think it’s 50 cents a day? Something stupid like that?
What is the rationale for making something that used to be controlled by a button by the human whose ass is in the chair itself now gate-kept through remote management software? What is the value add, except being able to smile sheepishly and say something stupidly status oriented such as “Yeah, I just have it all rolled into an auto-deducted checking account that I don’t really pay attention to. I really should, though.” and then there’s the subtle shrug of “Aw, it’s rough having too much money.”
I wouldn’t know though. I’m a beggar, a subsidy, a dependent, a bum. I’m a stoned & sober Bukowski pounding this keyboard because I’m getting paid by the word, so who cares if any of it is of value or coherence? I’m not being paid, but I do like to pretend.
I pretended that I was a regular person a few days ago and applied for a job. It really was a knee-jerk reaction to getting bad news. I’m unemployed, but that’s by choice. Meaning, I choose not to work while I’m blundering through this mental health crisis and my wife is supporting both of us, but I have been taking classes and working out at the gym and getting ready to spend this fall building the house that we’ve been working towards.
Last Friday, I got a text message from the builders stating that because our house design is so modern and funky, the engineers are having a field day with it, so it’s been delayed a couple times. The gist of the text was that we’re most probably not going to get around to concrete (and the whole fucking house is either concrete or glass, so the concrete work is a big deal) until next spring.
Another fucking winter in a house built pre-insulation. So, like a tardy sailor standing on the dock watches his ship sailing away, but then suddenly bursting into flames… that’s kinda how I felt. So I opened up Indeed and punched in the next town over and applied to the first job that didn’t make me feel like I’d have to eat Valium every Monday just to get through Stand-Up.
I don’t mind taking drugs, I love taking drugs, but when you have to be sedated to deal with your boss, you’re in the wrong seat. But now I have PTSD about her to the point that I have nightmares about her literally trying to strangle me. I kinda view all jobs through this lens now. “How long will it be before something I do blows up so badly that I’m…” it’s a shooter’s Flinch Reflex.
I’m afraid to apply for jobs, because what if I get the job, how long then until I’m ostracized? It’s bad when it’s not the work I’m afraid of, it’s the eventual personality clashes and picking of unwinnable fights based on principle and then screaming FREEDOM and charging the line without ever looking back to notice that every other Smurf painted motherfucker is suddenly immensely engrossed in the re-tying of their sandals and I’m off to take on the English army with nothing more than anger, a kilt, and a cudgel.
I have another brain doctor appointment this upcoming tomorrow. That’s really bad English. But I’ve spent a little over a week now since my last visit and I’ve been focusing on the two things that I really took to heart. One: The person you want to be is the same person you should be. Two: Do not look at things as need to do or have to do or should do. Look at things as a want to do or a do not want to do. Two B: Don’t make assumptions or follow negative thoughts regarding the motivations or causations of a stranger’s actions.
Instead, listen to how I feel inside regarding how I could be affected by the actions, and without thought to the cause of the actions, instead react by doing whatever I feel is best to make myself happy and comfortable. So I took this to heart when I was applying for the job.
I applied to be a Registrar Services Specialist, which means that I’d help incoming students get their transcripts all sorted out and then help them choose which classes they need to take to pursue whatever future they imagine themselves thriving in.
I don’t really think this would be a great job, but I see it as extra income (which would be split between house build and various 4×4 lift kits and backpacking crap) as well as a way to get frequent gym workouts in on a regular schedule.
Is it bad that I think having access to their gym is almost worth working there? I’ve never even been to their gym. I have no idea what it is. If it even exists. However, the chances of me getting an interview are slim to none, I believe, since I’ve already been quarrelsome with the authority figures there.
I applied on Indeed, because it was super easy and I was in an anger-tizzy. Then, I got an email from the University with a link to follow to fill out the application, although, it’s nothing that isn’t on my resume. I follow the link, fill out the 7 page application, hit submit, and get a 404 error.
That usually means that everything that my computer just sent to their computer went into their computer’s shredder and then incinerator. I didn’t get an email confirmation, I knew I was screwed. The next day, I called into the HR office, explained what had happened, and confirmed that there was no record of my application. I then sent in a picture of the 404 error, as the HR rep requested, as well as my resume, references, and cover letter.
The HR rep replied back that I needed to fill out an application. I replied back that I would prefer if they would contact me when their online system was back up again and I would re-apply digitally. “I’d prefer not to print out and application, fill it out by hand, and then scan it all back in unnecessarily.” Turns out that I could use a fillable PDF and yadda yadda…
Their tech guy was chasing down the 404 and in touch with me, so when he got things working he asked me to re-apply to confirm it was working. 2nd time is a charm, the HR rep confirmed that the Eagle Has Landed. But you know what? I’m pretty sure that my unwillingness to jump through arbitrarily assigned hoops just so HR feels empowered has been noted as “difficult” or “problematic”, and that regardless of qualifications, I will not be hearing from them.
However, this is the point that I choose to be self-perceptive and logical in my analysis of the entire job as potentially enjoyable if endurable, and my endurable threshold for bureaucratic bullshit may be so infinitesimal as to have already been surpassed. What I mean by this is that I can consider this position and career choice to have already run it’s natural course and span. I lasted so shortly in their work environment that I’m already done there. In failing to secure an interview, I have established empirically that they are not a place I want to work.
Jesus, how narcissistic is that? Ok, that’s not exactly the right word. Perceptive? I’d like to one day be comfortable looking at the positive side of things, but part of ASPD is that I have a Teflon-like ability to shift blame and deflect causation and fault away from myself. To be fair, I do this mostly in my own head, but that gives me the moral belief that I’m correct in these hopes or optimistic assumptions.
Optimism? Yes, I can speak to that. How quickly the decent into a new hobby takes hold, all part of the Cluster B. Mycology. It means mushrooms. I think. And I know that by mushrooms, I mean Mushrooms. Mycology is, like, the growing of them. Or the studying of them.
Or, like… I’ve defined so many other words in the guide, words that had specially contextual relevance, but this one… I’m going to keep banging it against the door, fumbling around the handle, trying to type and talk over my shoulder. Mushrooms. They’re a great reason to buy an industrial canning pressure cooker.
I keep thinking about how those dicks made bombs out of them at the Boston Marathon and now understanding why they used them. They clamp solid! I’m using the BRF Tek, and I hope to have set up 9 little half-pint grow-pucks. They’re in a tote in the closet and I’m optimistic. We still have 2 all-in-one bags and 3 grains bags that have some mycelium growth, but… like… starvation rations and mental abuse Guantanamo-bay style growth, meaning, stunted and sickly as fuck.
I believe the PF cakes we made will be successful. Everything about it feels good. But then, let’s look at my track record and understand that there is a very noticeable lean towards ignorance of facts and adoption of wishful thinking… I sure thought those first all-in-one bags were going great too, until they went Verde on us. I thought the grain bags… and then I thought that the guy selling the quarter pound of the on Facebook Market…
Yeah. I do stupid shit and rarely reap any worthwhile rewards. I think it took me 3 or 4 failed marijuana grows before I had the trees going with the 3lb harvest. So, this is… this is the 4th attempt. This one though… Money. Hopefully.
I’m also going to get some liquid culture for starting, which should give me another option regarding purity- since if these 9 jars go to shit, that means that both of the remaining spore syringes were bad. There… was a point to what I was saying. Gone.
I feel like there was something else to touch on, too. Oh, yeah. I was just loving on my old dog who jumped up on the couch next to me as I write. She cuddled into my hug and after a while of nuzzling, I asked her if she was feeling tired. I admitted to her I was feeling Tired. Then I nodded at the twin .38 revolvers on the shelf next to us and joked “If you only had opposable thumbs we could make a great suicide pact.”
My dog is going to Valhalla. I… I am destined to come back as some extremely careless breed of melon, or one of those large clams that grow, live, and die in the same dark current of cold water without ever seeing sunlight and no-one wants to harvest.
Man, as I wrote that I thought of something else to mention, but it’s gone. I shot a couple of my guns for the first time this week. Old guns. A .22 repeater that’s stock-fed internal magazine and kicks the spent brass straight down, and a bolt action .410 with an under-barrel magazine that you fill from the fore-grip area. Total good boom time. I should write another thank you to my Aunt.
Virus:32 “A virus breaks out and a chilling massacre rages through the streets of Montevideo.” I’ll be honest. I *think* this is a zombie movie? I mean, it sounds like it has everything required to be one. Maybe these won’t be risen from the dead zombies, but were the 28 zombies climbing out of graves? No? Just inexplicably hunting their children by, what? Feel? Smell? Parental GPS? Just took an hour worth of detours to do everything from put away mycology supplies to look up old gun values. And drink coffee. I do believe I have slipped into something a bit more comfortable. And revealing.