So I've got zombies on my mind a lot, given that I'm finishing up the syllabus for my j-session zombie course to turn in, well, as soon as possible. On my way home from dropping off a friend at the el, I walked down my deserted suburban street at around 9pm. The air was moist and a little misty from the recent rains, and the glow of the orange streetlights filled the air in the way only those lights can. As I walked the two blocks, I couldn't help but ponder the poor defense my street offered against zombie hordes. Then, not two hours later, iTunes shuffles "The Man Comes Around" into my ears.

"And behold, a pale horse, and the name of him that sat on him was Death, and hell followed with him."