There's something about well done claymation that makes me feel all squiggly inside.
Like comfort food for the brain.
Especially when I'm trapped in the house with my family, trying not to get smooshed by God's giant spitwad.
It really taps into my memory of being snow bound in rural PA, with only a Rankin and Bass reindeer to entertain me.
But in this case you have to replace an even-toed arctic ungulate with flesh eating zombies.
Bob bless us, every one!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
