The movie was good, though you always miss what they have to leave out from the book so it’s not 89 hours long.
But I surely had too much butter on too much popcorn. Or so my stomach told me in the wee hours of the morning. I didn’t yak, though I was concerned I might. But this morning the full effects of theatre butter’s lubrative power showed themselves. You may call it the runs, but it was more like a cross country championship with countless laps around a porcelain track. I could go on with descriptions, but you would probably never eat a meal again.