How I Got Over Myself and Learned to Love Community

Confession time. I didn't like Community when it premiered. Not because it wasn't a good show, it's quality was never an issue with me, but because I actually teach at a community college. This show was invading my home turf, and I didn't appreciate it. Just from the promos alone, I knew I would hate it and spend all my time pointing out to whoever would listen that "real" community colleges aren't like that at all. (I can be insufferable like that.) So rather than waste my time with an inaccurate portrayal of my workplace, I smugly ignored it.

Some of you want to smack me through the internet, don't you? Don't fret, I did not remain in the Darkest Timeline.

After some soul searching and introspection (and one of my favorite shows referencing it in their opening titles) I realized that I may have been mistaken about Community. Perhaps my pride got in the way and I dismissed what would have been a fun television experience because they didn't get it "right." I decided to borrow the first season from the public library (thanks, taxpayers) and watch an episode that everyone was talking about: Modern Warfare, the legendary paintball episode. If I liked it, then I might like the show.

Twenty-two minutes later I was a diehard fan.

My Zombie Plan

I've written before about zombies and our penchant for making plans when they inevitably rise. As a society, we're obsessed with zombies and can't seem to get enough of them. I'm just as guilty, given my habit of including them in all aspects of my writing.

Many people have these elaborate zombie plans, where they'll go, what they'll do, how much ammunition they'll need. They watch every zombie movie, read every zombie book, and make sure that they don't make any of the same mistakes. I can appreciate that kind of planning. I also have a plan for when the zombies arise.

I'm going to die.

Sadly, I am not the unlikely underdog who manages to beat back the relentless zombie hordes. Nor am I the survivalist who creates a zombie-proof fortress and rides it all out. No, I've got a delicious brain and will be first on the menu. At best, I will join the shambling army and dead-man shuffle in your direction. I find that scenario highly unlikely because I doubt there will be that much left of me.

Big Reveals and Damage to our Jaws

not you

The best part about a long-running series is the Big Reveal, a turn that is so shocking, so game changing, people will slap you across the face if you spoil it for them. Just a scant few centuries ago, dropping an un-alerted spoiler was grounds for a duel. Little known fact: the famous Hamilton-Burr duel began when Alexander Hamilton gave away the ending of Catherine Cuthbertson's novel The Romance of the Pyrenees before Aaron Burr got a chance to finish it. (Spoiler alert, I may have made that last bit up.)

Sometimes, though, the Big Reveal does not cause our jaws to succumb to gravity. In fact, gravity itself is so annoyed by the plot development that it ceases to function around our jaw area, causing it, in fact, to rise. If you ever found yourself involuntarily grinding your teeth after finding out, I don't know, that as a boy Darth Vader built C-3PO, that's gravity expressing its disdain. (Seriously, don't annoy gravity. I don't think it likes us.)