When the Zombies Come

A work friend, let's call him Dirty Hippy, gave me this thought:

You know, when the zombies come, some group of people near Max Brooks is going to grab and FEED him to the undead, just on principle. He brought this on us by daring to write books about them.

And there are so many fatal flaws in his survival advice that I have to attribute it to malice. If you follow his guides faithfully you actually increase your chance of being a corpse snack. He must really hate people. I blame his father, partly.

It's OK, Max. Your father's History of the World: Part 1 wasn't that bad of a movie. No need to take out your frustrations on humanity by trying to undeadify as many people as possible. Look, he went on to make Spaceballs. That was good, no? Please come back and rectify your dangerous and purposeful errors. You can be redeemed by proper correctives.

BTW: Dirty Hippy did do a bunch of hunting as a kid, so he isn't ALL bad.

{update: I meant to better reference his Dad with those movies.}