Two episodes into Season 3 of “The Walking Dead” and we, the living “walkers,” are multiplying faster than the dead ones on the show.
That means that “Dead” has become the No. 1 non-sports TV show in the 18-49 age group, which is the only age category that TV suits un-die for.
Didn’t I tell you from day one that the series was the best thing since sliced dead?
The interesting thing about these viewer numbers is that it proves that regular Joes are smarter than those big-bucks smarty-pants big-shot Hollywood suits who snub their noses at the show because they think it’s low-brow and not sexy enough for their sophisticated tastes. Yeah, well their sophisticated tastes — especially this season — have produced too many massive bores that are tanking.
The whole conundrum has network execs scratching their shaved heads in bewilderment.
They need to wake up and smell the blood.
Have you noticed that every network show is trying to ape cable’s hard-core sex by opening their premieres with a gratuitous sex scene of insanely good-looking 20-somethings in their underwear rolling around a bed or bumping up against a sink. They think that’s what the coveted target audience wants.
Meantime, a show with no sex — gratuitous or otherwise — is, er, killing them.
OK, so Lori did have sex with Shane. And then with Rick. But it ended badly with Shane going all zombie on their asses.
It’s not about sex, it’s about good storytelling.
And good storytelling is no more about sex than “Dead” is about disgusting, disintegrating zombies — although I defy anyone else to use intestines as decorative neckwear.
While shows like “666 Park Avenue” were handing us a bunch of unscary bull, “Dead” was keeping us glued to our sofas in trancelike fear.
I’m therefore calling upon all “Dead Heads” to join together in a mass “up yours” to the Emmys that snubbed it and the Hollywood snobs who ignore it.
Let’s all throw up our middle fingers at 8:59 next Sunday night before the start of the show.
With any luck, a lot of those fingers will fly off and head towards Hollywon’t, a town with more fake body parts per capita than Atlanta on zombie extras day.