Warning Sign
Overall Recommendation
Recommendation?
Not a bad movie, but not really a zombie movie. Unfortunately, without it being a zombie movie, it doesn’t really hold up time-wise to hopes and expectations. This is strange to say though, because this is essentially a PG rated lower budget version of 28 Days. Except it’s rated R. Not sure why about that either. But this is… the template? For the idea 28 Days used- the enhancement of Rage. And then added pimply-puss and gave them a bit more reasoning capacity. See? You’re sitting there saying “Well, all that doesn’t exactly sound like 28 Days.” And you’re right. Because this is an older, lesser offering that crippled itself with it’s preaching of doom and gloom lest we molest nature. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with the message, but… I didn’t need it drilled into my head 45 times. Maybe in 1985 things were different. They sure took a great view of heartland Americans, too. But, shit. 1980’s movie. All this and that quibbled and quabbled, there isn’t anything in this that can’t be found better elsewhere. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with this, but it’s just not very interesting of a take on the genre to stand up to 37 years of atrophy. I say this with no malice and a hint of sadness, but there is always going to be something better to watch than this. Especially if you want zombies.
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- Scientists getting stupid with the photo op
- Joni makes a big decision to press the button.
- Joni makes a big decision to not un-press the button.
- Dudes in E.T. uniforms get killed by boil faced evil people
- UV light and bleach… seriously. Sounds like something to fight Covid.
- We get to an ending where we’re not really invested and don’t regret spending the last half hour eating pistachios.
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
I don’t know if I should even fill this out. These are… non-zombies. They’re humans who have some UV yeast thing that causes the Rage like in 28 Days but plays out as a very low-key, slightly off-kilter evilness that borders on slapstick. It’s as if the director lisped “You’re zombies, but you’re different from all those other zombies! Remember, you’re *YEAST* zombies! Now get out there and ACT LIKE IT!” and everyone kinda shrugged and did their best. There were some cool “Zombie horde pushing through barrier” and whatnot, but overall, these were just evil people with boils on their faces. Uh… Like, pregnant women can’t get it, either. I have no idea what’s fatal here, either since I saw a head get crushed, and that worked, and then one got shot and that worked, and then another got shot and then a few minutes later was back up and hollering about something or other. But definitely not zombie stuff. (eating brains, smelling brains, etc.…)
Where the money went
Where the money went
Man, they got some decent actors here. I say that due to recognizing faces more than any actual displays of talent. They had a bunch of really good special effects, like the zip-up bag-suits for the infected people, but then, they also pushed dry ice out of vacuum cleaners to make fog-guns. Really kinda hit or miss. Same thing with the writing. Some of it was pretty good, some great one-liners and the such. But the overall script? Why? Who decided to spend money making this? How much was actually spent? Yes, the puss boils were great, yes the blood looked like blood, but the whole everything felt kinda cheap and dated. This is a movie from a time when they didn’t have a lot of people in the audience asking “Why?”. Just accept that science can do bad things, ok?
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
I’ll be honest. I was gonna go with the axe. I mean, yeah, it’s a genre staple (as is the extinguisher, which co-starred) and people have made damn good work with it in cinema throughout, but here they elevated the axe to Axe. And not in the wretched body spray that people who insist they can’t take showers somehow find themselves compelled to use. I mean like Axe as in, they devoted an entire character to being a wuss, then developing acne, and then on to being “The guy with The Axe”. It’s sort of like when you call one of the bad guys out by his weapon. He takes on the identity of that weapon, they’re a pair. And I thought this was going to win the award for the evening until Sherrif McLimp dumps the clutch and puts the old squarebody through a… square-ish door. But I mean, what… blazing… horn honking glory… Was driving down 91 through Natick by the Mall and saw a car on fire. I was heading to work and it was in that direction, so I got off an exit early to drive through the parking lot with all the commotion. Turns out it was a cop car that had an engine fire, and the horn was stuck on. One fireman had and axe and was having the time of his life trying to make it through the hood before they pulled him away and cut in through the front grill. So anyway… Yeah. I love those old trucks. And if you’re gonna use one as a battering ram, you got my vote.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
I mean, we have a hand-severing, and then we have a zombie-doctor offering to give someone a hand… we have bloody boil hands hitting things. But really? There was one neat re-animation, but overall, since this wasn’t really a zombie movie, there wasn’t that much homage or inclusion in the genre to be found. These are thinking, reasoning evil people (zombies) that have Rage. Funny how Danny Boyle managed to do so much more with the idea a bit later on.
That was new!
That was new!
So, I feel like I’ve been ragging a bit on this movie simply due to being mediocre. It’s not horrible, it’s just not very good, especially when almost 4 decades of other shit to watch exists now so there’s hardly any reason to seek this one out. But all that said, there was one great big huge new idea here that fucking should Jeffrey your mind and make your cat glitch. This is the same story as 28 Days. Let that sink in. Scientists manufacturing the Rage virus? Yeah. So… not all that much worth watching, but thank god for it’s existence and the inspiration it has provided.
Review Notes
Review Notes
Got some cows. Ain’t never seen them before.
Got a plane. It’s dusting stuff. Ain’t never seen that before.
Flying looks fun. I really wish things weren’t so stringent about smoking weed. I guess I understand, maybe. I have a friend who once took off in his ultralight without filling the gas tank because he was distracted. So… but I mean…
Biotech… something… cough… cough…
Green algae shit… cough… cough…
So much green shit. Glowing and everything.
A walrus man mixing chemicals.
(I just paused to look in the Guide’s files to see if I’ve done this… starting to maybe remember a bit?)
And that’s how Romey and Michelle fucked us when they invented Post-Its.
I like the agitation tank. I belong in an agitation tank.
P4. Take a picture of where you park.
Higgins? I love that little guy!
Oh, that was a close call!
And I love that guy! I can’t remember his name though.
Shit. You know that thing’s gonna get stepped on.
No! Now you’ve done it!
I like corn.
I like showers.
I don’t like contact lenses. And I’d never put those yellow gloves in my eyes.
Co-ed showers. Good times.
Running in the halls? Are these all a bunch of children?
She’s got a red-phone! She can call the president!
He’s… not… well… Chicken.
This is cringy flirting.
Biohazarad.
Nice! Old Squarebody!
Shit, everything has gone Pac-Man!
Protocol One!
Oh. I thought those streamers were a bit lame. Big metal though.
He just said a lot of stuff on the phone.
Bob’s inside?
Whole lot of closed circuit television.
The pumps? What the hell are they gonna do?
So… something is started. That’s good.
Schmidt.
Why would they cut off phones when…
See? She’s got way more backbone than I do. I’d have said “Yup!” and opened the doors. That dude’s my boss. Why should I question him?
This is not a drill! The guy is yelling into a red phone too!
A safe full of instructions?
A 1-801-555-9000 call?
Toxicological? I love that word.
“How serious is this?” (Next shot is agitated chimpanzees)
Whoah. Dude just shot all the monkeys. They are NOT fucking around.
“Fairchild’s Magical Elixer” That’s… what you’re calling your serum? He’s already nuts.
“Lactose-Limeyose-Luminescence!” I love this guy!
They’re glowing under UV. Nice for raves.
Making jokes about suing people? And cold chicken?
Shit. Someone’s shooting!
Vick. Trying to shoot his way in. Again.
And that guy’s drinking. I’d arrest him for that.
A huey!
Jesus, Devo DID show up!
Major Conolly.
They just put a woman in a zip lock bag! And they’re… safe-storage-sealing it!
Genetic Engineering!
“A batch of experimental yeast”
Wow. They sure mobilize quickly. Either that or I’m way behind the curve on this one…
Zip-lock bags for all!
“She sounds ok. That’s a good sign!”
Everyone looks like they’re being pretty nice inside there.
Neilson! Kappor!
She’s so optimistic that I bet she buys her seafood at a discount bulk market.
“That was the Blue Harvest Group.” Damn. Does Spielberg know he ripped that name off?
“The corn that ate Chicago.”
I wonder if it’s distracting to drive with police lights on. In all the times I’ve been in the car with them, I can’t really remember anything specific about how they look. I kind of remember how it feels. Now I’m having some sort of strange memory about being pulled over for speeding while after 4 beers and it was a rookie cop who wrote me a warning while I sat in the passenger seat of their car. I think we chatted for a couple of minutes before I realized that there was another officer in the back of the car essentially monitoring the rookie to make sure that he knew what he was doing. I would have blown dirty. I still don’t remember how that night ended. I have hazy recollections of a midsize sedan’s ass sticking out of a ditch along a cold, stark stretch of nighttime desert highway, but then, the sky above the desert is that of Andor, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never stuffed a rental Lincoln on a foreign planet.
We have a lot of blue lights. He breaking into a trailer version of Kmart?
I think I’d be a bit more hostile and less confused if I woke up like that.
“Well, I hope he brought his *Lysol*.”
Zucchini Pancakes?
She didn’t enjoy hydroponics?
Growing bacteria to “beef up” the vegetable protein?
We’re a half hour in and no zombies. That’s kinda lame.
“2 4 6 8 I don’t want to radiate.”
Anything that glows is an infection.
Jesus, what the hell are they expecting in there? That’s the most hardcore suit I’ve seen since E.T.
“You think I’d be violating national security if I told you that you’re tunnelling into the wrong wall?”
Buncha condom people running through the hole in the wall.
What is that heartbeat thing that she’s got?
Bureaucratic rules are the worst kind!
YEAH! Burn this shit DOWN!!
I like Jodi!
Oh shit. Here comes Johnny!
Damn. She should have shot already. She should have shot instead of speaking.
What the fuck?
Tippet! You asshole! Stop electrocuting her! And as I typed that, the power wavered. Shit. Maybe make accommodations in the new building for a generator. The world sucks.
Crawling onto the desk isn’t going to fix anything. That’s a strange response.
This infiltration team… recording everything? On one of those huge VCR cameras?
Oh! Shit! We might have a zombie starting!
Someone would have gotten a pass-through!
Kid shot the dude good though.
Wow. Everyone is under arrest.
And that guy is making up his lines.
That was a conscious man being pulled.
And all these people sick as fuck.
Is this the turning process?
Of course she was right!
Oh! Shit! The corpses have left!
I love it when doors are broken from the inside!
A hand with all sorts of boils…
But… someone saying something about the light hurting their eyes? Blinded by the lights…
I love this movie’s insistence that an axe is the answer to everything.
Whoah. That’s not a good guy. He’s… not him.
Are the zombies completely sentient? Is this even a zombie movie?
That’s a whole lot of puss.
Trapped… whoops!
There’s a hand!
That escalated quickly…
That ended quickly…
That dude animating is awesome!
Short lived for such a tall zombie though.
Brain trauma works every time!
Phase 2? Or whatever? Protocol?
Really pushing the whole “Mother, should I trust the Government?” thing…
And a cut to an old man playing Q-Bert?
“Here… let me give you a hand…”
I’m so confused. What the hell is going on?
Damn that guy loves his axe.
“I feel Rage, Joni… beautiful Rage!” I know the feeling, Doc. I know the feeling.
Nice. Jam the elevator behind you.
Why are you so committed to this Schmidt asshole?
“How would you have told these folks, Sherriff? That their fathers and brothers are infected psychotics and it’ll all be over in less than 12 hours and they’ll be dead?”
This guy is like the discount version of… Tommy Lee Jones.
I was NOT expecting that. He didn’t even get a chance to say “I’ll be bahk” first tho…
Why isn’t she sick?
Such preaching. So much preaching.
Aw, hell. She’s hiding out in the room with the anti-toxin? That makes it convenient.
“The pay is good, the benefits are good… oh, hey, guess what? I’m on overtime!”
I like barbed wire.
I like stealing coffee.
“White sugar, white death!” Uh… what?
Oh. They’re… well, that’s bullshit. But nice to pretend. So they killed the generator with 3cc of highly sugared coffee.
And then broke in, ignoring one hell of a cool van! I mean, too big in the hips, but…
A room of people in plastic bags.
A-ha! They fixed the generator! Replaced the fuel system that quickly!
“Wait! I’ll show you how the pro’s do it!” (stands there a minute, then punches out the closest window)
They’re going into the “IN” air shaft.
Man, I love these old 1980’s movie computers.
Well, a shot to the chest sure puts one down.
Exploratory little monkeys, aren’t they?
Oh, shit! Schidt’s on the loose!
These zombies suck at team work!
Schmidt’s still a good guy!
Does only one of the zombies do all the thinking?
Whole lot of chaos in that hallway.
The zombies can’t stand… fog.
And I think that one zombie shrugged off a bullet?
Oh, that’s a creepy effect…
The virus was on Schmidt’s contact lenses?
And now we’re trying to figure out why she’s not affected. This is a pretty normal staple as well.
But on the other hand, we’re building some sort of massive flame-thrower? Or rocket propulsion system?
“That’ll flick their Bic!”
Yay! More green squiggly!
There’s some really good “Crazy zombies in the hallways” shit going on out there.
Estrogen! Steroids! Congratulations! You’re pregnant!
Oh, jeeze… she’s got the same reflex as my wife.
Burn it ALL down, Pookie!!
“Spin in the chair that you’re taped… now thrash and grunt…”
Like old me on a Friday night.
Damn. Fire-extinguishers yet again.
Thorazine. Used on animals and in mental hospitals.
The “Preg Factor” looks a lot like her urine. Just saying.
And no, Thorazine isn’t red. But that’s pretty cool.
Oh, shit! The townspeople are rioting!
Aww… a suicide pact. “We’re all crazy now.” (Momma, Momma…)
These rednecks sure know how to… well, do not very much effective.
Oh. A pneumatic gun full of the good stuff.
Those zombies are fucking scheming bastards!
Two men with pneumatic guns against 30 Rage zombies? Good odds.
And they somehow made it.
Uh… not exactly the most climatic lead up. I don’t care about the people in the cafeteria.
Now we have to chase the last infected scientist down the dark alley. Yay.
“Look how much we’ve learned…” (shoot self in head)
Oh, Bob! BOB!!
And the unmarked government vehicles drive off into the sunset.
Just stole that dude’s hammer! And then wasted it!
“Zucchini pancakes and genetically enhanced corn on the cob. Relax. I’m a scientist. I know what I’m doing.”
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
When I heard what sounded like a monster falling up the stairs towards our bedroom, I knew something was wrong. My wife wasn’t in bed with me, nor were the dogs, but this wasn’t of any concern. For a split second I had a mental image of my wife pretending to be a blind flail-monster that was navigating the stairs up, hopefully with a cup of coffee, but that idea quickly fell apart when I realized that my wife may be many things in the morning, but “pretending to be a monster” of any sort is way out of character until at least past noon.
She’s just not a morning monster. Then, my dog; my old dog- comes lurching around the corner as if she were tripping balls, staggering sideways, shaking her head, missing her footing. I was afraid she was going to try to jump up into the bed, not because she’s not allowed up, but it’s turned into a bigger and bigger jump the older she’s gotten, so I always tell her to wait until I can lift her up instead.
I’m glad that I trained her with hand commands as well as vocals, since now she’s deaf as shit- or has at least become an opportunistic master of faking it. I get a hand up in her face- a flat palm- that means Wait. I groggily crawl towards her, and when I got a good look at her, I saw that her eyes were bouncing horizontally like analog music gauges.
It wasn’t intentional scanning, it was neurological resetting or something of the sort. She was glitching like the cat and her eyes were seizing and unable to hold mine. Most dogs have a natural aversion to eye contact, simply due to the confrontational nature and pack behavior, but I work to teach mine, since most can learn- to keep eye contact. Don’t ask me why I do these things. I need to be in control of everything that I’m responsible for being in control of, if I had to answer a shot from the hip and across the bow.
I think two cars just clipped side view mirrors in front of my house, and although one swerved, neither of them stopped. Oh well. We get to watch the parade break down in slow motion some other time, I suppose.
As for dogs though, my dogs’ eyes were bouncing multiple times a second. They were moving so fast that although I could tell that they were moving in unison and that they were travelling the full range of motion to the left, in the light I couldn’t see if they were making equal distance to the right.
I’ve had couple seizures. They’re not fun. I’ve had migraines. They’re not fun. My dog? She looked like she was having the time of her life, except she couldn’t focus on anything or stand up straight. The more removed I become from the intimate immediacy of the moment, the more I’m wondering if she somehow found some marijuana edibles or something.
She at a bag of mine once before, and she got high as hell, but then all she did was walk in occasional circles and lie down sighing a lot. This though, this was different. Neurological, even, as in; “I smell toast.” I called down to my wife and took a couple steps down the stairs, and my dog came careening after me, so I had to stop her mid-stairs and pick her up and carry her down.
I’m just going to come flat out and admit it. When I think back, now, to that decent, I hear the theme to The Bodyguard playing. Or rather, that one note just… undulating. And the minute I put her down, she starts side-stepping until there’s a wall, and then she’s walked into the leg of the table, and the other dog is looking at her like she’s suddenly started meowing and riding a bicycle around.
I grabbed a couple of valium and some left-over pizza and threw together a quick barbiturate sammich, which thankfully she ate and kept down. But my wife and I are looking at each other and I said something like “You should probably put in for bereavement now, if that’s a thing and it’s something that you feel like doing.”
You want to hear what a sociopath says? Nothing elegant. No Hannibal Lecter. Just the absolute most unfeeling statement of fact imaginable. I felt bad, but nowhere as bad as when I tried apologizing for not understanding her crying, since it was *my* dog… which… no, that just made shit worse.
But before I can even get to that chew-me-own-foot-fuckery, I call the vet, and it’s exactly 5:04pm. So I’m shit outta luck. I’m sure there’s animal hospitals around, but I’ve never gone to one, I don’t know anything other than Vet. At this point the valium’s starting to kick in and although her eyes won’t stop bouncing, she’s not caroming through the house, smashing into every sharp corner.
We got her up into the little… fuck. It’s a day bed, but it’s so much more than that and so much less than that at the same time… it’s Ikea. So, that should give you an idea. The dog’s in the daybed, I crawl in with her, we cuddle, the wife takes a bunch of photographs, dog and I fall asleep… we wake up a little later and I try to talk about feelings with my wife, but all I can do to contribute is to pull up the song “Never Went to Church” by The Streets on YouTube and tell her that I feel like the music and the melody.
I understand why she’s crying, even if I’m not. Mine will come later. On their own terms. On someone else’s bad day.
But I just kinda sit there, wondering how to comfort her when shouldn’t *I* be the one needing comfort? When my ex’s dog died, she couldn’t face it. My ex, that is.
Her dog had made up his own mind. But we’d woken up one morning and he wasn’t by the bedroom door, and I knew that something was wrong. I thought we’d left the door open and he’d taken off or something, but instead, I found him lying in the middle of the living room floor.
There’s a couch there now. It’s not my house any longer. But it was my couch for a while.
He wouldn’t get up. He raised his head a little, thumped his tail a little, but he wasn’t getting up. My ex lost it and decided that she was going to take him to the beach one last time. She tried to get him to chase a ball. She tried to get him up with his leash for a walk.
That was one of the days I look back on and feel proud of myself, because I did things right. I called the vet and explained where things were (the dog on the floor, the ex out of her mind) and they recommended a “Come-to you” euthanasia service. When I called, the woman answered, and she didn’t have anything scheduled that day, and I got so fucking lucky.
I just noticed that my right hand shakes almost noticeably, but my left hand doesn’t. Remember those seizures I mentioned? The woman who came out was wonderful. She explained everything, shot the dog up with the goodnight darkness and wheeled him away under his favorite blanket.
Looking back at that relationship, I did so little right once I stopped being myself. I have no idea what that means. I started the relationship an alcoholic hooligan. I came out of it sober, but celibate and hostile. The only right thing I did was stop being myself, when I read it through again, evidently.
So, changing myself, and the changing of the dog. That’s what I’m good at. Yet this dog does not will to be changed yet. I’ve spoken to our beta dog. I’m sure in the dog world, she’s actually the alpha, but I’m the Alpha, so if I say the elderly, infirm, and potentially concussed and/or dementia-addled dog is alpha and the 75lb Pitbull killing machine is beta, well, that’s what’s awesome about dogs.
Yes, do read that as a people suck and dogs are better thing. I know it’s overplayed, but it’s true. Where things lie now? Dog recovered after a night of sleep and is back to normal. How does an animal reset like that? I wish I could be a dog with her. I doubt I’d still be Alpha, though.
I’ve seen her turn into a werewolf and ride another dog across the park, biting the back of it’s neck the whole way. Do we have to keep ascending as humans? Until we become indistinguishable from the breeze? Can I Devolve? I tried. I tried to Devolve just a little bit and try fishing.
I used to like it when I was a kid. My dad’s friend would take me out and take care of the worms and everything, and this dude knew fishing. Looking back, I imagine he was so good at fishing that it’d lost all challenge and thrill to him, so now the only thing that actually excited him was fishing vicariously through a hyperactive 8-year-old who won’t ever shut up.
If he can still catch fish through such a defective conduit, he’s got proof of his prowess. The hand of God doesn’t need to smite; it maneuvers a human to handle such baseness. Not only do I absolutely SUCK at fishing, it’s not very much fun. Yes, I did try it in a river while it was raining while wearing the wrong shoes (Study the teachings well, you’ll find that there are few hills worth dying on. But they can be found wearing the appropriate footwear. If not, then false walk their wrongly-clad cloven-hooves.)
I threw worms into the river by the handful, I lost hooks like I was sponsored. If I’d been any more optimistic, I’d have bought my seafood at a discount bulk-foods shop. But at least then I’d have something to show for my efforts, because after a couple of hours of staring reality directly in the eye, I’ve realized a couple of things.
I don’t want to put a hook into a worm. Or anything. I don’t know if it’s empathy that I feel, or maybe I just let my imagination run a bit and next thing you know it’s plowed smack dab into my stomach and jostled things just a bit unpleasantly, but… I can shoot and kill something. That’s not it. I can take life.
I don’t like anything that resembles torture, I guess. So. I’m a big wuss when it comes to worms. Here’s where it gets even sadder. Here’s where I consider turning in my man-card. I was revulsed by bait shrimp. It wasn’t even alive. It was dead and rotting and smelled horrible and there were little orange eggy things in clusters and some of them were fucking large.
I could barely touch them. I wanted to throw up. The tactile feeling of their half-decayed bodies ripping apart as I tried to force hooks through carapaces, feeling each little tendon and intestine tearing… Fuck fishing. I may learn more about it and try with metal lures or something, but… I can’t even handle baiting my hook.
I’m never going to be a good fisherman. Here’s the fucking punchline of it too. I looked at my wife afterwards and announced how I felt about fishing, and her reply was “I kinda liked it. I think I’d like to do it again.” You know what? Her fresh-fish-sauce-sourcing-ass can have it. I’m bringing my BB gun. And that’s sort of the short of it for a while.
For accountability, I made it to the gym today, but I still haven’t gotten punched in the head. I walked by the fight room and there was a Jujitsu Gi class going on and the dudes on the mat were huge brutes so I decided it was a good enough time to go home and work on the guide, or contacting a therapist, or any of the other adulting things that I’m trying to do but just fucking panic at…
Well, I alternated between staring at my phone and watching my wife sleep for 3 hours. I want to learn to be productive. I want to cease procrastinating. It’s that fucking simple. Why can’t I reach out and say that? Fuck. I’m hungry. I have a green shake ready. I’m stoked. Once again, what to watch… Gotta pull the Chromebook down. Oh. Shit. Just remembered. There’s a Nicholas Cage movie that is so close to being a zombie movie that I almost reviewed it.
It’s like The Flu, but, not as good. Still though. It *doesn’t* have subtitles (I don’t mind them on foreign movies, but wants to use them ALL the time? My wife watches all her movies with the subtitles on.) Speaking of her, I just walked back into the living room and out of the corner of my eye I saw a ghost of my wife holding a huge stuffed bear sitting on the couch.
Upon second, less freaked out look, it was just the big pile of blankets that I build up to have some sort of back support trying to work on this damned daybed. See? Fucking Tale of Two Cities again. Best of sammiches, worst of sammiches. Found something to watch, but the confusion continues. Warning Sign “A strange and powerful virus attacks a group of scientists and lab workers trapped in a fortress-like laboratory.”
First. “La-Bor-i-Tor-EE” God, that’s fun to say. I can’t remember where I got that way of saying it from tho… Second. Well, the minute I rented it it showed me that I’ve already watched it. I clicked about 20 minutes into it and it didn’t look familiar at all. So, now I’m really confused. Am I about to attempt my first 2nd review of the same film? Am I that bad? What is bad?
“Yaphet Kotto”. That’s someone’s name. An actor’s name in this movie. I suppose it could be actress. But… Wow. That’s a mouthful that rolls off the tongue like a handful of rusty gravel. Let’s do this. I don’t think this is the first time, but I’m tempted to eat a couple melatonin gummies to see how that plays out with the review process. Gonna skip it this time. Can’t trust the caffeine.