Twice in the last two weeks AMC’s The Walking Dead has broken my heart.
For those of you who are fans of the show but have not seen the latest episodes, I urge you to stop here and return once you’ve caught up. If you have no idea to what I could possibly be referring, I suggest you walk away and come back in a few weeks when The Walking Dead frenzy has turned all fandom into cryo-walkers, stuck in purgatory awaiting the third season, and I return to my normal political and current events fare.
Dale had me at hello. I have always felt a kinship with Dale in that he sees the world, even a messed up conflict-ravaged one, the same way I do. Rick admitted early in episode 11 that the Randall decision needed to be made because people were scared. When Dale stood in front of the main survivors’ group, begging them to stand against fear, rage and hurt, and somehow find it within themselves to see the bigger picture—the risk they were all taking; the ‘humanicide’ they were prepared to perpetrate upon themselves—I positively howled through the entire scene.