Do you remember the story of how Diogenes the Cynic, upon hearing Plato equate man to a featherless biped, extended a plucked chicken and said, “Here is Plato’s man”? Though Diogenes could hardly have foreseen it at the time, his featherless, clucking fowl might just as easily have doubled for one of the shambling infected in what’s supposedly the very best PG-13 zombie movie possible, World War Z. Hollywood has offered us images of zombies fast and slow, diminutive and enormous, viral and grave-risen, terrifying and comical, undead and perfectly healthy (after all, how else do Will Ferrell and Adam Sandler continue making movies without zombie America to pay for them?), but none quite like the bird-calling, teeth-gnashing, head-bobbing villains of this summer blockbuster fare. Bok. Bok. Bok.