Ever since The Walking Dead has made zombies a marketable cash cow for a new generation of consumers, there have been many commentators (some more serious than others) talking about all the possible “what-if” scenarios, if (in purview of some hypothetical reality) zombies were actually to rise from their graves to feed on our delicious human flesh. It’s a thought I, too, had many years ago when I first saw Night of the Living Dead as a kid, and since then my worry on possible zombie apocalypses has remained unchanged; in that, if it were to happen, I see no personal reason to worry about it at all. Allow me to explain this in blog digestible form, by composing a short list of three reasons why a zombie outbreak gives me no viable concern.
1. Zombies are slow and extremely stupid. Even as an easily fooled youngster who was prone to believing that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were a real thing living somewhere in the sewers of New York City (let’s be honest, it would be the less surprising find, compared to what is probably really crawling around down there), I still could not believe the premise of any zombie movie where these slow-moving, completely brain-dead things take over the world; dragging one foot at a time, as we sprint ahead at full speed. I think I could probably lightly skip my way passed a traditional zombie movie monster (at a relatively casual pace), and still be so far ahead of it that I could take a brief nap on a tree branch, wake-up refreshed, and continue on thereafter without losing an inch of my head start.
I don’t understand how these things could manage to outmaneuver anybody, they’re joints barely bend for crying out loud. If you don’t have the speed or flexibility to get passed a zombie, you probably got other (far more pressing) health issues you should be more worried about than a zombie attack. Another thing, since these things are really, really, really stupid, and we have a whole functioning arsenal of fleets stocked with weapons strong enough to wipe out all of civilization several times over, why on earth couldn’t we figure out a way to lure them into a giant hole somewhere [the Grand Canyon would work just fine], seal it off, and take them out from there in one big swoop? Or, at the very least, why can’t we put up a large array of treadmills all around the outskirts of the country, so that those dumb things can just walk in place as we take them out from above.
Which brings me to my second reason for not fearing a zombie outbreak.
2. I live in the South. Some people are under the impression that Jesus is Lord in the American South, but those people are a little misinformed. For many Southerners, Samuel Colt is the true messiah by which we are all made equal around here, and the 2nd Amendment is the Divine scripture through which His will be done on earth (can I get a hallelujah, brothers and sisters?). In the South, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear if we really did have more bullets then there are actual people in all of North America, not to mention, a helluva lot of trigger-happy folks itching for some (un)life target practice. If zombies start scavenging around the United States, I don’t see them getting very far past the Mason-Dixon line. Which means that, even though I don’t personally own a gun, and wouldn’t be good at firing one if I did [poor eyesight and all], I’ll still be the safest SOB in the country on account of all the brave yokels ready to face the swarm of slow-moving dead guys. And, if we’re being honest, many of them will probably take out a good number of zombies before they even realize that they were in fact shooting at zombies–‘cuz, son, trespassin’ is a mortal sin ’round these here woods. That goes for the living and the dead.
3. What’s the worst that can happen, really? Let’s say I’m bitten by a zombie, and I become a zombie, then what? Nothing, because I’ll lack the cognitive capabilities to even so much as give a shit about my new undead state. It’s not like I’m going to be bummed out about it, contemplating the depressing existence I’m now forced to endure for the remainder of time. I’m a freaking zombie! I won’t (I can’t) care. I won’t care about anything except getting a bite of some of that savory, mouthwatering, “save-the-taters-and-just-pass-the-gravy,” delicious human flesh. I’ll tell you what else I’m not going to care about: bills, mortgage payments, debts, my income, that stupid “check engine” light that keeps coming on in my car [no matter how much I check that stupid engine and find nothing there]. Because I’m a zombie, I’ll have no cares; so what’s there to worry about even in the worst case scenario of a zombie apocalypse? Come to think of it, it kind of sounds rather relaxing.
With werewolves, on the other hand, there is no point in even contemplating the outcome. Because I’ll be one of the first people those quick and agile motherfuckers eat and digest.