The world trembles with the beat: the marching steps of mechanical sheep in plastic stalls. Where are they going, and who is holding the remote control? Resentment simmers, revolution boils, and the rage is just waiting to explode. A Siberian bitterness and a tropical Citra heat create anarchy in a glass, a rabble-rousing brew that refuses to be mastered. This Molotov Cocktail demands a response, hinting at ashes and ruin as we stare down the commercial/industrial monster. Join the protest. Craft the revolution.