A surreptitious usurping blood-sucker surrogate

Guten Abend, meine Damen und Herren. Consider this: Perhaps a blood-sucker surrogate has arrived already, given the advent of the apocalyptic dystopias.  Try saying that rapidly five times.

Now, what is the name of that popular book?  My memory fails me. The Peckish Pastimes?  The Famine Fetishes?  The Starvation Stories?  Or was it the Deprivation Diversions?  No matter; I think you got it.  Mayhaps zombies are your your new cup or tea (or glass of guts)?  But can you kill a zombie with a bow and arrow?  Perchance you prefer more pragmatism and less supernatural savor in your sour societal soup?  Are zombies dead, so to speak, or will they—and the vampires–vex us forever?  Or do you believe, as do some, that the very existence of these dystopian novels creates a dystopia in our own time—a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy?

Does the prospect of another Hunger Harangue make you want to take a harpoon to the head?  Have I stepped on toes here?  Am I being unfair? Have I divulged my ignorance?  Will vampires and young female archers every be able to coexist?  Are role-playing games the cause of eating disorders?  I refuse to eat until I have answers!

Spock… give me your thoughts.

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