We all know that p-whipped dude who might, somewhere inside, still recognize that he’d rather be out with his buddies roaming the night for a strange piece of tail, but who can’t even make it out the front door when his girl is anywhere in a twenty mile radius. This man is not who you want to be.
A zombie would never let a woman keep him at home. You don’t see zombies doing the shopping, picking the kids up from school, or relaxing in an armchair with a pipe and slippers. Zombies have the urge to wander the open plain. They are driven to be who they are.
Don’t try to tie one down ladies, cause it ain’t happenin’.
Zombies understand that a dude’s place is out with his bros. All for one and one for all. Whether it’s hitting the singles bars, attending monster truck pulls, or skulking around abandoned summer camps hoping to feed on the flesh of the living, a guy needs to be with his troops.
And what about sex?
If you’re not getting any, why should anybody else? You know good and well what I’m talking about. A celibate zombie loves nothing better than stumbling along a secluded lover’s lane, finding the prom queen and the quarterback going at it hot and heavy in the back seat, and breaking that shit up.
Zombie Tip:
Don’t play with yourself.
Because playing with other people is so much more fun. Remember, there are no zombie onanists—not out of any sense of guilt or shame, mind you. A zombie would simply rather be out trying to get some* instead of staying home and fantasizing about it.
*brains
Horny people are easy targets for zombies. They’re distracted, confused, and frequently try to run away with their pants around their ankles, which makes hunting them down that much easier.
It all comes down to being true to yourself. In life, you have to make choices. The zombie chooses never to settle down (or even to stop). Yes, it can seem harsh ladies, but the zombie knows he’s got to put his own needs first.
Note:
While it cannot be said that zombies make a concerted effort to consume either sex before the other, plenty of zombies do end up picking up girls late at night in secluded places. Especially girls with big, you know ... brains.
13
Get the Government off Our Backs
Zombies aren’t known to support one political party or position more than any other, but no zombie will stand for governmental harassment. No zombie likes the idea of the government getting all in the working man’s business. A zombie believes honest Americans should be left to go about their lives without undue interference or regulation.
Whether it’s a father of four driving a truck to feed his family who can’t be bothered to stop at every weigh station, an undocumented worker putting in honest hours for pay that is slightly below the federally mandated minimum wage, or a zombie doing his best to help an orphanage contaminated with children to be entirely rid of them by dawn, the government needs to back off and let these working men and women just do their damn jobs.
State government, federal government, county government—it’s all the same to a zombie. That is to say, it’s all annoying. Believe me, a zombie knows the pain of having a perfectly delightful romp through an abandoned shopping mall busted up by elite secret service teams with the latest in classified government anti-zombie weaponry. But a zombie also knows that a small-town sheriff with a sawed-off shotgun and a hastily assembled posse can be just as problematic. Big or small, the government can get in your way. Whatever the case, the less government, the better in the view of a zombie.
And government regulation!
Don’t get me started.
Whenever there’s a secret government chemical warfare device that can turn people into zombies, they’re always so careful about making sure it never leaks out and that nobody is ever, say, accidentally infected. Whatever. Typical government wimpiness! You gotta relax and let that stuff out. Or at least some test monkeys who are already all infected with it.
Zombie Tip:
We have nothing to fear
... except the government’s eventual, inevitable decision to just say “fuck it” and nuke the entire city we’re in. Duck and cover all you like, but when Uncle Sam brings out the nukes, just say your zombie prayers, man, ‘cause it’s over.
14
Rugged Individualism
What is the true spirit of an American?
Is it a man traveling alone on the open plain, fueled by nothing but his own gumption and “sticktoitiveness?” Is it self-reliance in the pursuit of your goals? Is it pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps?
Because, if it is, guess what? Boom! Zombies again.
Now sure, there are a few differences between our forefathers’ version of the American dream and that of a zombie. The first American settlers wanted a place where they would be free to practice their dumb-ass religions. They wanted not to be taxed by the King of England. They wanted to exploit native peoples and take their stuff. (In some cases, they even wanted to find the “Fountain of Youth.”) Later Americans dreamed of luxurious Southern plantations, railroad monopolies, and careers in moving pictures. Today, the American dream seems to involve participation in a reality TV program, saving enough money to pay for gastric-bypass surgery, and securing an adequately wide audience for one’s weblog.
But if we stop to look for the vein of essential “Americanness” running through these pursuits, we come back to self-reliance and rugged individualism.
There’s so much to be said for self-reliance.
It’s a very important trait. Maybe the most important (after, of course, brains). After all, who do you expect to do everything for you?
Your parents?
Ha. They’re sending you off to boarding school as soon as you’re old enough.
Your so-called “friends?”
They’re gonna be out of here as soon as your last credit card is maxed.
“What about Jebus?”
I hear you asking, all suddenly pious-like. Hey kid, everybody knows, Jebus helps those who help themselves!
If you want something, you’ve gotta go out and get it yourself. Zombies are an excellent model for this.
Zombie Tip:
The universe helps those who help themselves.
Like, to brains and stuff.
Zombies don’t sit around waiting for things to fall in their laps. They go out and get. See, zombies are “doers.” And they “do” things like form hideous armies of the night that scour the countryside, eating anybody who gets in their way. They “do” enjoy corralling humans holed up inside of abandoned shopping malls and elevator shafts. They make sure to “do” the things that create environments where humans can get eaten alive.
You never heard of a zombie on the welfare dole, did you? Or some kind of government-subsidized brain-assistance program? Or a zombie who needed help at all?
No.
Think about that for a second. Zombies never ask for help. They don’t have to. They help themselves. Zombies find a way.
DIY. That’s a zombie, and that should be you, too.
15
Nobody Likes a Tourist
There are lots of questionable forms of tourism. Sextourism. Food-tourism. Even eco-tourism. But no backpacking, pustlegutted, sunscreen-wearing camera-jockey is as offensive as the zombie-tourist. (That is to say, a tourist out to see zombies.)
Say you’re a voodoo priest minding your own business in the jungle somewhere. You don’t have time for tourists. You got bills to pay. Chickens to cut open and blood to spray all over naked dancing girls. It’s a full goddamn day.
Then all of a sudden, these PhDs show up, acting like they’re “down” with you. (They’re so not down.) And after a little introductory chitchat, it comes out that (surprise, surprise) they want you to show them all your voodoo medicine secrets. At first they’ll spin you some story about how they’re researching indigenous cures and tropical medicines. Give you a line about how modern scientific medicine is “learning about new cur
es all the time from native healers and shamans.” How the cure for cancer might be waiting inside a plant in the tropics yet unknown to Western science. (But you know better. You went into Port-au-Prince one weekend and saw that movie. It had Sean Connery in it, and it still sucked.)
You know why they’re really there. (It’s like, just come out and say it, man.) They want to know about zombies. They want to know how you make them. They want to know what chemicals you use. Then they want to know what plants the chemicals come from, and where those plants grow.
And not for any cool reasons. Not for something you’d be all right with. They don’t want to make zombies themselves, or to de-zombify a friend who was accidentally turned into a zombie.
Nope. It’s for some boring-ass shit like tenure. They want to write some kind of article about your zombie-making secrets for journals with names like Nature. Press them hard enough, and you’ll get some namby-pamby bullshit along the lines of “But I’m 40 years old, and I’m still an assistant professor.”
Cry me a river, science boy.
Other zombie-tourists are more accidental, but no less annoying. If you’re on some kind of expedition through a made-up-sounding country, and a “native” tells you a legend about a prophecy that allows the dead to rise from their graves at such-and-such a time under such-and-such conditions. And you think to yourself, “Hey, those conditions sound a lot like how things are now. What a coincidence! It would be a shame not to take a detour and investigate. ...” Just let it go man. Things never go well for the zombie-tourist in that situation. Even if your native guide is right, and he does give you the right directions to the spot (and not just to an abandoned mine where his friends are waiting to rob you), it’s not like the zombies who are gonna be popping out of the topsoil are going to pose for photos with you. Think about it.
Zombie Tip:
Your passion shouldn’t be a fashion.
If you’re just “following the horde” because it’s “what everybody is doing,” you might seriously want to stop to evaluate your motivations. If you only do what’s popular and follow from trend to trend, you’ll be left never knowing who you actually are as a person. Who the “real you” is.
(If, however, the horde is comprised of zombies, and you are also a zombie, then by all means proceed.)
It has been previously remarked that there is something inherently offensive in the idea of humans going on a tourist expeditions to see other, less civilized humans. Zombies aren’t really human anymore, or “civilized” by anybody’s standards, but they’re still not going to put their rotted, desiccating arms around your Lacoste-clad husband and smile for the cameras. They’re just going to eat you. (They’re not going to eat you because you’re an annoying tourist per se. They’re going to eat you because your brain is delicious. That being said, however, you are an annoying tourist.)
Finally, nobody, and I mean nobody, has to be reminded of the disaster that befalls the tourist who brings the zombie back as a souvenir. Usually, this will be the explorer type who wants to show off his latest find to his scientist friends. But it won’t go according to plan. When he opens the crate that he locked the zombie in, it’ll mysteriously be empty. Or else when he puts the zombie on display at some sort of science convention, the thing will get loose and attack everyone in sight. Sometimes the boat that was supposed to have shipped the zombie back will just show up with everyone on board eaten, or turned into zombies themselves, or missing entirely.
So wherever you are and whatever you do, when somebody shows up and starts acting like you’re part of some exotic culture worth studying, don’t stand for it. Not for a second. Make like a zombie instead.
They won’t be back anytime soon if you do.
16
We’re Here! We’re Animated Corpses Irresistibly Drawn to Feed on the Flesh of the Living! Get Used to It!
Throughout American history, different groups have had to assert their right to be part of the national fabric of this great country. It hasn’t always been easy.
These groups and subgroups have had to fight for their right to exist. To stand up and be counted. To be somebody.
And yet each of these groups has, in its own way, made invaluable contributions to society, science, and the arts. Each one distinct. Each one no more or less American than the other. Yet it has not always been easy for those who at first appeared different in some way.
We love America, warts and all, but sadly zombies cannot hope to be exempt from Americans’ initial lack of acceptance for cultures and practices that might appear new and different. We can, however, learn from their perseverance and be inspired by their success.
Zombies are all about breaking down barricades, both the cultural and the very, very literal. If there’s one thing zombies know about, it’s barricades. And about being left out, and even forcibly excluded.
Zombie Tip:
You’re just as God made you.
Whether you were made to help and inspire others, to forge lasting connections, or to break connections between spinal cords and heads, it’s no use trying to change it. It’s your nature. (Even if what you do is very, very unnatural.)
You don’t have to be an immigrant to be the victim of prejudice. You don’t have to have a different skin color or different-looking clothes to be an outsider. You may be descended from people who came over on the Mayflower. You may have attended a fancy prep school and an East Coast college. But even so, something totally beyond your control may drive total strangers to deride and exclude you.
A zombie feels your pain, gay and lesbian America! It’s not cool to make fun of someone for their preferences, especially if those preferences have every indication of being innate. Even in this day and age, a lot of people still think zombies “choose” to eat brains. It’s like, get a clue. If zombies had any choice in the matter, they’d be eating a steak like everybody else.
Would a gay guy “choose” to like other men, even though he knew it would mean facing a lifetime of intolerance, prejudice, and censored Sex and the City reruns on TBS?
A zombie wouldn’t “choose” to be a murderous reanimated corpse if he knew it would mean being shot at, exploded, and beheaded whenever someone could manage it. Zombies can’t help their preferences any more than you or I. And why should they have to?
Dammit, this is America! And in America, you get to be yourself. Even if it goes against the belief systems of others. Even if it contravenes accepted norms and conventions and laws of nature. And even finally, yes, if it means that you may forfeit your very brain itself.
Who knows? One day, the governor of a northeastern state may even call a press conference to subvert an impending scandal involving clandestine meetings with handsome undead men in hotel rooms, and announce “his truth” that he is a Zombie-American.
17
Age Ain’t Nothin’ But a Number . . .
Victor Hugo once said that 40 is the old age of youth, but that 50 is the youth of old age. Which proves only that Victor Hugo, though an expert on many matters, didn’t know balls about being a zombie. Erudite aphoristry aside, age is nothing, and zombies make this clear.
So you’re turning 40? Nothing to a zombie.
50? No big deal.
65? Not batting an eyelash.
103? Sure, why not?
Zombies can spend decades, or even centuries, in the sweet embrace of charnel earth before being reanimated. And while they may have been in their twenties or thirties at the time of their terrestrial demises, many zombies are at the century mark when called upon to rise from their graves.
Does that stop them?
Not for a moment.
Zombies never think, “Gee, I’m really getting up there. I should take it easy.” Zombies never wonder if they’re too old to be at this party and just creeping out all the college girls. And, most importantly, a zombie never says, “I’m getting too old for this stuff.” (Because for a zombie, that “stuff” would be terrorizing the living in an eternal q
uest to sate that which cannot be sated. To quench an unquenchable, atavistic thirst. To chomp as many heads as possible. And ain’t no zombie too old for that.)
The Zen of Zombie Page 5
