Zombies? SWC's Gonna Go Down Fighting

We've been thinking a lot, in light of recent discussions on this blog, about the threat of zombie invasion. It's scary as hell, and seems more and more inevitable, what with global warming and all. The best suggestion circulating around this blog so far has been to shack up with Ted Nugent. He'd have the ammo and the cold mental capacity to make sure we all stayed safe. And it's an obvious fact that he'd do the right thing and put you out of your misery, were you infected by the horrible walking dead. In an effort to be prepared, we wrote Ted Nugent a letter to discuss the plan:

Dear Mr. Nugent,

We've admired your work for a long time now, and we feel you have a deep understanding of an American's right to freedom. We're sure you're aware that the zombie apocalypse is looming large on the horizon. To that end, we were hoping to rent your Michigan ranch, Sunrize Acres, in order to develop our counter-zombie forces. We've amassed our own equipment and munitions, but your acreage and terrain would be the ideal training ground. We hope very much that you will also consider joining our force. We believe you could offer invaluable resources and leadership to the cause.

Sincerely,

Shoulda Woulda Coulda

Here's what we got back from Ted:

Dear Crazies,

It's no surprise that you want to shack up with the Motor City Madman in his fortress: The Wango Tango Stranglehold. We all know that it's going to be a free-for-all when the dead rise from the depths of Hell and come for your meager portions of gray matter. Heads will roll, and the world will be paralyzed in a state of shock. Not me, though, because I take no prisoners.

No doubt, we would have to repopulate the world from the chosen few confined to the safety of my confines. I wonder if a bunch of weekend warriors like yourself could handle that, though. My love is like a tire iron.

I'm afraid I can't allow you to join me during the darkness. I just don't think you can take me high enough.

I'm sorry for your troubles.

Sincerely,
The Nuge

p.s. Cat Scratch Fever

Damn, Mitchell. What are we going to do? Are the zombies going to get us? Ted was supposed to lead us to safety. I'm scared. I got a thousand knives, and all, but I just keep praying that this doesn't result in death by misadventure.

You know what I think? I think fuck the Nuge. We'll just have to go to the drawing board and plan out our own fortified zombie escape.



Right. When everyone else is scattering like street rats, we'll be straight up stormtroopin' and the Nuge will be begging to join our force. So ... now what?


I guess we need to get to work thinking about what we're going to do.