Make Alexandria Great Again: On the campaign trail with Rick & the gang


The Walking Dead returned with a resounding “meh” this past Sunday, save for everyone’s favorite whos-a-good-kitty and a truly epic mass zombie killing straight out of Ghost Ship. Yeah, Ghost Ship. I remember that movie. Karl Urban was in it.


Here’s an episode summary before I launch into whatever rant direction the wind hands me:

Father Gabriel fucks off.

The band’s back together!

Gregory is still a dick.

The gang goes to the Rennaisance Faire!

It’s Morgan! But Rick really only cares about Carol news.

The gang meets a Tiger!

Maggie should have spoken with Ezekial. Rick’s story sounded like a side quest in Morrowind.

King Ezekial doesn’t want any of your freedom THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

Stay, Daryl. STAY. Good Daryl.

Mystery explosives, we’ll take’m!

Oh, the explosives were keeping that giant herd of walkers in check.

We still want them explosives!

*insert Ghost Ship-type zombie killin scene*

Errybody be lookin for Daryl.

The gang goes lookin for Father Gabriel!

Aaaaand they’re surrounded by angry lookin folks.


Good day, sir. I SAY GOOD DAY.

I have this theory regarding the dip in ratings for the first half of season 7: The official arrival of Negan, the subjugation of Rick, and the black cloud of hopelessness and dread that hung over the gang like a kimchi fart was, well, just a little too real. It mirrored our own feelings of defeat and despair regarding the 2016 election. The bullies won, the good guys lost, and the world turned upside down.

We were already getting depressing news on the daily, did we really need to watch our group of hero survivors get pooped on by a criminally insane alpha male and his merry band of asshole alpha male rejects? It was hard, man. Too hard.

So, I like the less doom & gloom, more resist & rise version of The Walking Dead. Given that real life has currently gone full Rebel Alliance in it’s awesome defiance of the Orange Administration, the new “fight for freedom” Walking Dead is a welcome shift.

Now, where the FUCK did that Father Gabriel go. Was he kidnapped or something? I DON’T EVEN KNOW, YO.

Let Busta Rhymes learn ya how to RISE UP.

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