Sadly, no, it isn’t the unliving walking dead, which would be so cool even if was all horrible and apocalyptic and whatnot. I am referring to the shambling horror nearly upon us: the “new” Star Trek movie.

I know many of you are eagerly awaiting this event, have your tickets Fandangoed or already in sweaty hand, excited for the “reimagined” world that you spent time in when you were younger. You are prepared to rush forward to greet this long-lost loved one, ecstatic for a moment of embrace with something you thought long-dead. I stand back helpless, watching you jump blissfully into the arms of this decayed and bloated corpse wearing the face of something you loved but which isn’t, can never be that object of your bygone affection. I can only watch as the beast sinks its decayed and moldy teeth into the soft flesh of your neck as it proceeds to tear out your heart and eat it (a common misconception being that brains are the only things zombies are in it for).

What dire force is behind this mass invasion of cinematic zombiedom? Who is it that is raising the corpses of Kirk and Spock and the rest? Who plans, even now, to send the stumbling corpse of Robocop lurching into the streets? Did we never discover the force behind the appalling reanimation of Battlestar Galactica (no, really great show – Starbuck is now female, and dies, then comes back with no explanation, does some ridiculous deus ex machina nonsense, then disappears…yeah, great show)? Is it the studios, afraid to greenlight any unknown commodity and is instead sucked into such great ideas as Scooby Doo and Josie and the Pussycats? Is it the people who actually make the movies and agree to raise the dead for cash? J.J. Abrams isn’t even a goddamn Star Trek fan, so why is he making this movie? Because he wants to bring a Star Wars vibe to Star Trek (according to what he himself said)? Really?

Or is it us, who want so badly to return to the allegedly better, more innocent days of our youth that we’ll happily pay our money and pretend that this ridiculously over-blown monstrosity is our loved one come back to us? In our rush to embrace something, anything that touches on something we dearly loved, do we knowingly and willingly forgo our better judgment and convince ourselves that even if it isn’t perfect, it’s better than nothing? Did we learn nothing from the Zombie Prequel Invasion just passed? Do we not remember the last time a series of movies, with poor special effects and cheesy stilted actors that nonetheless touched something deep within our hearts that remained with us all our lives, had prequels trotted out that danced about in an obscene parody of that which we loved so dearly?

This movie will be a success, a rousing success commercially. Many people will see it, and most will enjoy it in a superficial “well, the special effects were good” way, and then pony up more money for the inevitable sequel, which everyone will eventually agree weren’t particularly great or even good, and a new generation will wonder what the hell was the fuss about Captain Kirk in the first place. And the unsuspecting American public will continue to be attacked by these zombie movies. What does the future hold? A Citizen Kane whose dying words refer to the long-lost Segway he had as a child? A Casablanca prequel, set in Paris with a hip-hop soundtrack? Are we going to see a “reimagined” Mad Max, a “fresh take” on Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo?

I can only watch it happen, and rage against it like a caveman screaming into the thunderstorm, words full of sound and fury and ultimately signifying not a goddamn thing. I can warn others of these dangers, these zombies in our midst, but I am the crazy old man in the first reel that no one listens to. I sharpen my shovel, and lean it against the wall by the front door, and vow to keep vigilant.