I don’t know if you’ve given this much thought, but if every book, game, movie, comic, graphic tee, or humorous coffee mug about zombies were an actual zombie, we’d already be overrun. There would be no hope left for humanity. I have a feeling there’s not much hope left for humanity as it is. 2012 will bring about the zombie apocalypse, the total cultural extinction under the crushing ubiquity of the zombie subgenre. In my latest column for Innsmouth Free Press, I addressed a few of the questions most likely to occupy the tenacious philosopher kings who will emerge from the rubble in the years to come. For instance, who doesn’t like zombies?
Me, for one. That’s right, I have some sort of genetic resistance to the zombie-loving plague that seems to target anybody with at least one geeky chromosome. I don’t go all gushy over decomposing flesh. I don’t have a plan A, B, C, and Z for the coming zombie apocalypse. I don’t get any kind of shivers when the topic of cerebral gormandization is raised. Frankly, I die a little inside every time an indie developer makes another Flash game about shooting the undead.
Read the full column here.