When fighting zombies, the only comfort one can have--if, indeed, it can be called a "comfort"--is knowing where the zombies are. "They are over there, and we are over here. When they come at us, we're going to shoot them down. That's how it's going to work. They're just zombies, and they're way over there. No way are we going to f*** this up." But when zombies then unexpectedly pop up behind you--Bam!--the whole battle plan's not so cut and dried, is it, Mr. Tough Guy?
The motto of Harvard isn't 'nice,' it's truth. The motto of Yale isn't 'light and nice,' it's light and truth.
Nothing sends the message to your enemy that he has not fully understood the situation on the battlefield--a tactician's greatest sin--like zombies unexpectedly tapping their rear guard on the shoulder and eating their brains.
Columbia is ... for people whose genitals still work, dammit. For writers who want to be brave and persevere in the real world where people often fail.
Have you ever felt as if other people were smarter than you? Quicker on the uptake? Zombies feel this way every day.
