First, lets ban guns on our property because....well, just because we need to warn folks that we are mentally ill, even if we seem older, wiser, experienced, et. First they were rare and hard to find....(in Georgia...riiiiiight.). Now they are just....bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad guns. Never mind that they are the only tool...oh heck. I won't even continue that rant. Bad guns!
Then let's lower one of our most valuable folks on a hemp rope down a well containing a zombie to rodeo him out....somehow. It will work out.
Then let's continue all characters slobbering in introspection and existencial angst. No wonder the little girl split to hide out and eat sardines. It would take a week of that to get the taste of this bunch of losers out of your mouth.
Seriously, when are we going to see the episode where they cross paths with the three chicks and one gay guy who set up machine guns on a roof, crank up the classic rock and strobe lights and mow down zombies while drinking tequilla shots and dancing all night, then climb their 4-WD Ramchargers over the mounds of bodies to do it again?
When asked why one of them, a spandex blonde who prefers a M249 belt-fed, blinks and says: "They're rotting to pieces in front of our eyes. This isn't going to last forever, you know!"
The one-handed guy shows up and the gay guy shoots him graveyard dead as he utters his first sentence.
This sorry sad sequel could ROCK, if the writers weren't mentally ill.