Anyone else notice the red on this guy’s shirt? Ahem. And how do you pronounce that name again, fella?
We last left on a crazy cliffhanger in which Rick took a phone call 10 months into the zombie apocalypse. And here I’ve been bad mouthing AT&T for their crappy service all this time! But before we find out if the call was from the International Space Station or other stronghold (can you imagine being trapped in outer space when the world ended?), we take a little trip through the woods. Continue reading
This man has lost his damn mind. THE WALKING DEAD on AMC, Sunday nights.
Did you think last week was dark? Because this is finding out who killed Laura Palmer dark. This is “What’s in the boooooox?” dark. This is Javier Bardem flipping a coin dark. This is as dark as the closet Kyle MacLachlan was trapped in as he watched Dennis Hopper beg Isabella Rossalini for “Mommy.” This is Sylvia Plath’s oven inside the smoke-filled Deliverance pig-hut, jammed up underneath Marlon Brando’s “Colonel Kurtz’s” cot straddling a pile of amputated baby arms dark. (Oh, the horror! The horror…)
THIS IS SOME DARK STUFF, IS WHAT I AM GETTING AT. So grab your Shake-n-Shine (the #1 flashlight for End Times!) and let’s go spelunking into the hellscape in which our gang now finds themselves. Continue reading
On AMC 9/8 EST
[Previously on The Walking Dead...] First, I want to ask TWD Fandom one question: well, are you happy now? You got what you wanted, and boy, did the writers want people to feel bad about it.
Second, holy sheep. How damn amazing is this season? There’s so much this episode, let’s just jump right to it. (Here’s last week, if you need the refresher.) Continue reading
Remember how last week we were all, “Dang, why no Michonne and her jawless, armless pets?” Prayers = answered. And I swear to the god of your choice, if you don’t love Michonne and think she’s the baddest bad that ever bad’d, then you need to reevaluate your life choices.
Oh, and the creepiest politician outside of a Stephen King novel makes an appearance. I AM EXCITE. Continue reading
Posted in Redemption Corner, Television
Tagged Andrea get your head out of your ass, Armless Pets, Daryl Dixon for Zombie Apocalypse President, god dammit Carl, Headless Pets, Michonne for my Zombie Apocalypse Bride, ol' Blue Eyes Sheriff Rick, Walking Dead, zombie apocalypse, zombies
Apologies for the lateness; I’ve been up to my eyeballs in zombies. Turns out my preferred weapon of a middle-sized hatchet with saw on the opposite end is the correct weapon. Plus, it doesn’t need as much care as a samurai sword. (The rubber handle keeps its grip, even through buckets of blood.)
When we last left our survivors, a prison was entered, Rick was bad ass, Daryl was bad asser, Carl obeyed his Pa, Michonne had pets on a leash, Doc done got bit, his leg was hacked off at the knee, and some Alives were locked in the kitchen of the prison. I hope someone thought to pack some ‘Tussin – that’s always good on a wound. Continue reading
AMC, Sunday Nights, 9/8PM E/C
Welcome back to a new season of the Walking Dead! I’ll be your new tour guide through the gates of hell, aka the “it’s gonna happen, so you better view this as a survival guide” show. Speaking of survival guides… You’re welcome. Fun fact about me: I grew up in an End of Times-Preparation religion, so the show reminds me of summer camp. Good times! My husband is a competitive sniper, so it’s hilarious to hear him critique their shooting. (Oh my god, Andrew Lincoln, why are you holding your guns like that?) Continue reading
City-dwelling walkers pause over their bloody lunch of stiff pig or dog, can’t really tell, mid-slurp to listen to and watch a helicopter pass overhead. Without spoken communication they begin to gather and move en-mass in the direction of the chopper. Another horde migration (like the one in the season opener that saw Sophia chased off) has begun.
All good things must come to an end.
Thankfully, sometimes bad things come to an end too. Continue reading
Well Carl? Just what do you have to say for yourself young man? Hmmm? Oh, who am I kidding? Run along young man and find something nasty and dead to poke with a stick. It’s what any normal boy would do. Especially one growing up during the zombie apocalypse. There’s plenty of gross stuff to keep a kid busy for weeks! Continue reading
To die to sleep, To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come…” (Hamlet, bitches!)