Will someone please invent the Zombie Apocalypse virus, because I am so ready!
Do you ever wonder why the Zombie Apocalypse is so popular with twenty-somethings? Seriously, you get more than two of them in a room and there’s going to be an hour of discussion about where to go and what to do when the Zombie Apocalypse comes. My wife is even into it and I can hardly get her to watch scary movies on Halloween. It’s everywhere in pop culture these days. AMC’s “The Walking Dead”, after the comic of the same name, is the most popular show on TV. From dyed-ini-the-wool hipsters to Star Wars nerds, every young person in America is crazy for flesh eating freaks and I think I can tell you why.
First of all, if you’re not familiar with the genre, here’s the basic plot of every zombie thriller since “Night of the Living Dead”. The dead come back to life with limited intelligence and motor skills and a ravenous hunger for human flesh. The only way to “rekill” them is to destroy their infected zombie brain, which is generally ridiculously easy. They are only really dangerous in large groups and it falls on the ragged bands of survivors to dispatch them in the funniest and goriest manner possible. We never know how this all started but it’s generally assumed that it’s the result of some government experiment gone wrong. Oh, and by the way, if you get bit you’re now a zombie and obligated to eat your friends. I think that pretty much covers it.
Here’s what strikes me about pretty much every zombie story I’ve ever seen and why I think they are so popular with the college-age crowd. When you find yourself in your little band of misfit survivors, usually no more than a dozen average joes from all walks of life, look around the campfire. Here’s what you’re not going to see. A politician, a banker, a lawyer, an oil baron, a televangelist, an insurance company executive, a talk radio host, a vapid celebrity, a snooty barista, that bitchy woman from the neighborhood association or pretty much anyone else responsible for the giant mess that the real world is in today. That’s right, somehow the brainless ghouls got it right. They staggered straight out and ate all the people who make this world almost unbearable to live in. So, is it any wonder that every young adult about to graduate college and go out to face double-digit unemployment, a soaring tax burden, overpriced healthcare and ecological disaster at every turn is enamored with the idea of seeing ninety-nine percent of humanity become an all you can eat asshole buffet. Frankly, it’s starting to sound pretty damn good to me!
Let’s take another look around that campfire and, once we’re over the shock of finding that the guys from the pebble mine aren’t there, let’s see who’s left behind. A couple of guys that know how to hunt and fish and fix cars. Maybe a good cop and an independent farmer and a couple of fairly hot outdoorsy gals who know their way around a shotgun. That’s a camping trip I’d like to go on! So what the hell, I’ll play along. After all, I’ve got all kinds of guns and my my kid rocks a katana, I’m sure we’re going to be just fine. So here’s the Cahill family plan for the Zombie Apocalypse.
I’ve watched The Walking Dead pretty closely and I’ve seen all kinds of zombies. Zombies in business suits to pajamas, cop zombies to street walking Ho zombies. Sporty zombie, Posh Zombie, Baby Zombie and Ginger Zombie but I’ve never seen a zombie in waders. In fact, the brain eaters apparently can’t deal with water at all which means that, best of all THEY DON’T FISH! With all the reduced pressure, fishing is going to be off the chain and it’s likely no one has thought to loot the fly shop. I love the guys at The Fish Hawk but I’m going to have to assume that they are all ankle biters by now and since, according to my theory that zombies eat the rich, everyone in Buckhead is now sushi. I’m going in guns blazing to clean out the tying section and pick up that Thomas and Thomas bamboo rod I’ve had my eye on. Sorry guys, it has to be done.
Every zombie lover knows that the toughest thing about surviving the Z-poc is finding a nice place to spend the night without waking up some zombie’s breakfast. You watch these guys run from houses to sewer pipes to barns to RVs looking for a little R&R and everywhere they go, more ghouls. Well, news flash guys, you know that giant sailboat you’ve always wanted? Well, Thurston Howell III won’t be needing it since he’s busy chewing on the help and it doesn’t take one ounce of gas to sail to South Andros for a little bonefishing. So when the dead walk the earth feasting on the flesh of the living you can find me casting buck-naked from the bow of my yacht and three sheets to the wind from the liquor store I cleaned, out barbecuing an IRS agent for dinner.
So listen up all you government scientists out there, quit your screwing around and release the damned zombie virus already! I’m ready to go. My ammo is packed and I’ve stocked up on sun screen. I’m not even making next month’s mortgage payment. Me and the Skipper and Ginger and Mary Anne are shoving off for the Bahamas. The rest of you can eat my brains!Louis Cahill Gink & Gasoline www.ginkandgasoline.com email@example.com Sign Up For Our Weekly Newsletter!