Like the demons in Poltergeist…
A rebellious mob of muscles has been doing its best to punish me for the punishment they seem to feel I inflicted on them during a recent Sierra backpack. For a while, it looked as if they might succeed, but I now seem to have the upper hand. I’ve stretched them, drugged them, electrocuted them, and generally beaten them into submission over the course of the last few weeks.
But like Peter Finch, I’m mad as hell, and you can expect my next diatribe to reflect it.