Truth be told, the season premiere last week was not on my radar at all, even though Rick’s face was on my NYCC badge all last weekend. Once Upon A Time finished, John turned the Steevee to AMC and I opened of Fergus Macbook to shop for a dress upon which to build my Mothra costume (the “Sexy” is silent, like the “k” in “knife).
Dear Walking Dead: You spent an hour killing off a character you’d already assassinated sometime in season two.
The Walking Dead-verse is like libertarian Disneyland. Ron Paul just creamed his pants.
Rick Grimes is a racist buttbrain, everyone is Woodbury is an idiot, and I’m so bored that stop paying attention and start thinking about The West Wing.
I want Michonne to be my best friend and have a sleepover where she teaches me some sword skills. I’ll repay her by foraging for herbs with which to season the dried pasta, rice, and other assorted grains I’ll prepare for our dinner. I just need to learn how to start a fire without a match or lighter, and I’ll be set.
I think “Ass Kicker” is a perfectly acceptable name for a baby. Certainly better than Judith. No offense to any Judiths who may be reading. You can’t deny that you’d rather be called Ass Kicker, though.
GOD DAMN IT. The Governor’s butt is in my head, now. Governor/Andrea sexytime is in my head, now. THANKS, SHOW.
Did AMC and Show chicken out on showing the horrors of Woodbury and The Governor on cable television? Because, so far, I’m underwhelmed by the Woodbury stuff and super-underwhelmed at The Governor as a villain.
Here’s to you, T-Dog. In the afterlife, I hope you manage to get out an entire sentence uninterrupted.