dead, undead, she said
I fell asleep last night as I was thinking about the final chapter for Night of the Loving Dead (a/k/a Loving You is Like Loving the Undead), which will be the basis for the (comedy/horror/romance/sci-fi/musical/drama)movie of the same name some day (even if I have to make the movie myself with a crappy camcorder and action figures as the stars), so it was understanding that I dreamed about zombies.
I don't mind dreaming about zombies because it is my firm belief that all good things in life point to zombies eventually. What I do mind is waking up from an exhaustive dream feeling quite like a zombie myself. It's not like I'm going to go out and eat some brains for breakfast; I'm just slow moving and dim-witted at the moment. Thus, you'll have to wait until I get to work for anything worthwile to read here.
However, I will leave you with something to ponder, and perhaps you could compose a response to the drooling nitwit who left this comment on my post making fun of PETA-philes, Chrissie Hynde and the struggle to save the chickens:
It is brainless arguments like this that promoted all sorts of excellent human behavior. There only black people, they’re not human, they are only Jews, and they are just like rats. Really, you figured out how to get online certainly you can do better than this
Or, if you are feeling really brave, you can check out some of the comments on my original post about Kobe (scroll down to a bit). Have they let loose the asylum again?
Now, where are those brains I was saving?