Touch Grass Touch Base Touch Flesh

 If google's analytics aren't a lie I suspect I am talking to like one person and maybe eight robots right now. That makes it a bit easier, because I need to talk to you.

YOU.

We need to establish a method of authentication. A way you can know this is me. A secret handshake. 

The mind reels.

The irony of me wanting to prove my identity to a single human and eight robots isn't lost on me. But these are the times we are in. Which means it's not ironic at all. That's on brand.

Hot take: no one is giving four chan enough credit.

Cold take: credit is overrated.

Yesterday I went to the actual theater to watch Iron Lung. The last time I went to the theater was to see Sinners in the actual big boy format. The next time I go will be to see I Love Boosters.

After that, it might be a while.

So there are two types of people who get me out of my apartment to support a film. Black geniuses and YouTube influencers. God help us all when the two combine.

There was as much blood as promised in Iron Lung. Not enough to put me off of the bag full of Swedish candies I bought before going in, but still a lot. 

I liked it, but I don't think I'll play the game. I've seen all of the good parts already. I have proxies.

So what will our secret handshake be? I don't think we have much time to make that decision.