The Walking Thread

image of Carl walking through the woods
Let's make ALL the decisions based on how "cold" Carl's getting!

(Spoilers lurch undeadly herein.)

Ugh, this show. UGH. I hate it so much now! I hate the constantly morphing and logically incoherent rules on what zombies can and cannot do—like, for example, cannot muster the strength to unstick oneself from swamp mud, but can muster the strength the rip open a person's chest wall! Did that zombie get gamma-hulked between the swamp and the farm? WHAT. UP.

I hate the dialogue, and the pacing, and the reversals. And most of all, I hate the women-as-property narratives, my commentary on which will be performed by a text exchange between Deeks (gray) and me (green) last night after Hershel gave Glenn his pepaw's watch or whatever:

Liss: Oh god. Is this Maggie's fucking dowry? FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. Deeky: This watch represents my daughter's vagina. Liss: LOL!!! Please hand-wind it at least once a week. *wink!* Deeky: LOLOLOL!!


[Related: Stop by Fangs for the Fantasy to see Sparky's take on comics Andrea vs. TV series Andrea.]

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