The shirt says it all…

One week from today marks the much-anticipated season 3 premiere of The Walking Dead. If you are one of the four people left in America who have not yet heard of this show, RUN, do not walk to Netflix right now and watch seasons 1 and 2 to catch up. (I’d suggest you wait at least an hour, though, if you’ve just consumed a large spaghetti dinner. Trust me.)

In a nutshell, a strange virus has killed off a large portion of the population, pretty much causing an end to the world as we know it. Any place where survivors might think to look for protection from the ensuing breakdown of society – the police, government, military, Walmart – all gone. As if that weren’t bad enough, the victims of the virus didn’t just lay down and die…their decomposing corpses are wandering around aimlessly, with but one goal – to dine on the survivors. Yes, I know, the premise sounds completely hokey and unbelievable, but the reality is that it’s anything but. I’ve said it before, and at the risk of repeating myself, I’ll say it again – this show is almost too intense to watch. Almost.

Now, I’ll admit, I was a little late to hop on board the Dead train – I didn’t start watching the show until right before the end of the second season – but I now wholeheartedly embrace my inner post-apocalyptic zombie killer.  This, apparently, is not good enough for the Universe, however, and it has decided to exact some sort of punishment for me not declaring my loyalty from the very beginning. Over the summer, DishNetwork decided to stop carrying AMC, the channel that hosts the show. Haven’t I always said my middle name should’ve been Murphy?

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