It’s funny how even zombies can seem romantic when there’s a French Maid around. Hey, Jazz Fans, it’s your old pal Jimmy Rudolph here, and I think I’m on record for saying, the French just get it. Jazz, Jerry Lewis, snails, the French have a certain I don’t know what. They understand. And this particular French maid, well, she gets zombie mayhem and destruction. Wearing her high-neck uniform, her little cap, wielding a chain saw, I ask you, what could be sexier? Ooo-la-la, madamoiselle, churcez la zombiezzz! While I’m not usually a fan of blood and guts in the budoir, (I like to keep blood and guts in the mud room, where it belongs,) I could see myself wriggling under a French Maid, with a zombie wriggling over her, a bottle of red wine on the nightstand, getting redder… and of course, a little Stan Kent in the background. J-Bo? C’mon, just wear the cap. C’monnnnnurk!