Whenever the zombie apocalypse finally happens due to a stash of secret chemical weapons being sabotaged in a lab by some stupid terrorist group comprised of a bunch of white guys/gals and definitely not Middle Easterners because that would be racist, I'd love to imagine that I will one of the lucky ones who survives the ensuing war. But c'mon, we all know that's bullshit. 99% of the world will perish, either by being bitten/eaten by the undead, or by blowing themselves up with homemade grenades and howitzers. And there's no doubt in my mind that I would be part of the latter group, because I would so goddamn excited and pants-shittingly-scared about everything going down that my first instinct would be to grab my stupid pry bar and baseball bat and head out into the unwinding of society looking to crack some skulls without having to worry about jail and the ensuing rape/gang-joining stuff that is customary. Then, when one of those bastards breaks into my living room, I cock back, swing, miss wildly, fall down, split my pants, and am quickly and painfully devoured sitting there like an asshole wearing a pair of ripped pants. Running a close second to this scenario is the one where I escape the city and head to some remote location only to starve to death because I forgot to pack pop tarts and water, and instead of gathering necessities, I spent most of my prep time looting gun stores and hammering nails through the head of my Louisville Slugger.
And all of this ranting is testament as to why I love 28 Days Later so so much. It just makes you think. Not in the way that The Pianist makes you think, like the whole, "Ehhh, mankind is sooooo fucked up how could people do this shit to one another..." Fuck no. The Pianist was a great movie but it also made me want to drink a bottle of Drano. 28 Days Later is thought-provoking in a more fun and exciting way, as in: "Just what in the fuck would I do if that weird guy across the street who wears girls snow boots suddenly turned into a brains-eating zombie? I'd have to bash in his head him with my police baton, no?"
