By Silke Tudor
In 1974, the band Television had a weekly "residency" at a skuzzy biker bar called CBGBs, and Patti Smith wrote one of their first reviews. After rhapsodizing about Tom Verlaine's swanlike neck, she turned to Richard Hell -- his look, his moves, his attitude: "If Hell loses balance he'll lay out and play bass flat on his back. No hesitation. Wrong note so what." That was it. For Malcolm McLaren, Hell was the embodiment of disaffection and disgust amid the lingering hippie haze.
Not gonna lie, last week's episode of The Walking Dead has been causing us anxiety. Not for the usual zombie-related reasons -- we're quite used to that anticipation. But last week, we saw badass Andrea return to form, escape Woodbury, attempt to get to her old friends at Team Prison, and then get foiled at the last minute by the Governor. And the last we saw, she was strapped into the Gov's torture chair, with no one any the wiser.
Worst part is, her friends in Woodbury think that she's gone to the Prison, and her friends in the Prison don't know she was trying to reach them in the first place. So who will come to her aid? Someone has to, or we're going to have a heart attack.
