But in many ways, [typing] is less challenging for the brain [than handwriting] — and challenging the brain is central to education itself.
I hated handwriting with a passion when I was a kid, to the extent that there is family lore about it, Heid’s point is very important. Read the article.
This is the zombie draft board. Each dead person must register, failure to do so results in … can’t quite read this … “becoming dinner.” Please fill in your paperwork and remain sitting until we call for you.
The zombies in King of the Zombies (1941) are not the variety found today in movie theaters, a statement that brings forth weird visuals of the dark caverns of cinemas, infested with dead humans and the inferior popcorns on which they subsist. Yeah, yeah, I live near a large chain movie theater.
I mean, we’re sort of there, but not really, if you ken my drift.
No, in this movie we’re talking the voodoo zombies segment, who seem to be mostly big guys who are fighting to keep grins off their faces.
And the referenced king? No, no magnificent super-zombie there, sad to say. But still set on evil, he’s captured a US Navy Admiral, and he’s intent on extracting his secrets, using zombie-style methods. But he finds himself beset by surreptitious rescuers who survive a plane crash, and find themselves provisioned with little else than cliched dialog, with which they do their best to find the missing admiral, as well as each other.
All in all, there’s a zombie element, a comedic element, and a romantic element involving a couple of ladies, and they are not well-melded. I could see the welds, and they were rushed and prone to leakage. The cinematography is nice, I dearly loved the character of the old lady, and Mantan Moreland completists will have to see this flick, but otherwise I foresee this to have a scant current audience.
Oh, you’re one? Here, let me help you out.
