Thursday, August 4, 2011

Diplomacy and George Romero

            I make a point out of being prepared for just about anything. I’m well-equipped for just about any major catastrophe, from total economic collapse (food stores; pure gold & silver; beat-up car; leather jacket; shotgun; leg brace; dog), to a literal Biblical apocalypse (white robes, various religious materials; handy “Disguise- Yourself- As- The- Pope” kit), to a Lima bean uprising (I refuse to elaborate upon this), to a giant spider invasion (giant shoe). In light of this, it may seem surprising that I have made absolutely no preparations for a zombie apocalypse. After all, it seems like everybody these days has some sort of zombie contingency plan, to the point where your grandmother probably has a spear gun stowed somewhere just in case Old Man Wiggins next door starts acting more brainthirtsy than usual.
            The thing is, most of the people are working under the assumption that they want to be on the “living” team in the event of a zombie attack. Now, I can understand why that opinion might be so pervasive- after all, the protagonist of any given zombie movie is almost never a zombie himself. But even if an opinion is widely held, that doesn’t mean that it’s right. When has a movie ever bothered to show us the perspective of the humble zombie? I’m sure that they’re perfectly nice people at heart (this is assuming that the zombie in question still possesses a heart. If not, then I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice person at gall bladder.)
            Think about it. In most cases, the only thing zombies will try to eat is humans. That suggests that we’re they’re only food source, and when you try to run away from a zombie, you’re depriving him of a meal. Imagine that from your perspective: you’re about to eat a delicious sandwich, when it suddenly leaps up from the table, runs as far away from you as it can, and tries to blow off your head with a semi-automatic rifle. What would you do in that situation? Probably panic, maybe start raving about how the sandwich god has forsaken you. Personally, I wouldn’t have this problem, as I make sure that every inch of my meals is secured to the table before I eat (Pros: safety from vigilante sandwiches. Cons: haven’t managed to successfully eat in five years; table is really starting to smell), but that’s really beside the point, assuming that I had one to start with.
            With all of this in mind, my plan for a zombie apocalypse is to join up with the zombies, who hopefully will be thoughtful enough to establish a recruiting center in a convenient location. I’ll have all the perks of being a zombie, and I’ll also be able to sleep well at night, knowing me and my zombie brothers are helping to create a utopian society where conventional societal fears against eating your children have been abolished.

            (Hey, I guess the italicized bits do look better down here. Who knew?)

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