The Good Old Days

Oh, for the good old days - when men were men and women were subjugated. There was no questioning authority back then. The rules were simple - Might is Right! But then civilization moved in and took its toll.

Birth control was discovered and women were relieved of the crushing burden of childbearing. Morning sickness is now a thing of the past. Now the only time we throw up is if we get some bad tamales at Chico's Cafe. And once we had tasted independence, we're all in men's faces, telling them they can't go out and hunt and fight; they've got to go out and get a real job in an office somewhere. Then they get all soft and flabby and don't turn us on anymore, so we have to watch football games, where those big hunky guys go running around in their tight pants and...wait a minute...I've lost my train of thought.

Oh yeah! Our poor men! All that testosterone and no place to go. They can't kill anything with a club anymore. If they try to hunt, it has to be with a rifle, which is no contest against the unarmed animals. So the men don't even need any muscles to do it. And they can't capture territory any more - how frustrating is that? If they want land, they have to deal with a real estate agent, and half the time the agent will be a female, which is even worse, because he'd rather fuck her than listen to her drone on and on about mortgage rates and property appreciation. And then his wife is nagging him about how she'd rather have a place with a skylight, and he's thinking, all I want is a goddamn cave, where I'll be the boss and if we're hungry I'll go out and club a bear and bring it home and you'll cook it and then I'll fuck your brains out whether you're in the mood or not. Then you'll start pumping out the babies and do some gathering of nuts and berries to supplement the bear meat. And then...huh? What? Okay, okay, we'll get a skylight.

And that, my friends, explains why modern men drive gigantic SUVs, mow their tiny lawns with large, noisy power mowers, and get into fights at hockey games.

Unanswered Questions About the Undead

So, what is a zombie, anyway?

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Yeah, yeah, I know...He's one of the undead. But I'm undead, at least I was the last time I checked my pulse, but I'm not a zombie!

How do I know?? Well Christ, I think I'd know if I were a zombie! There's got to be more to being a zombie than being undead. What are the other features?

Okay - that's good - a zombie was dead first, and now he's undead. But then, what about those emergency room cases, where a guy is brought in on a gurney and his heart has stopped, and the doctor puts one of those shocker things on his chest and the guy's heart starts beating again and he's okay. Is he going to be a zombie for the rest of his life?

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No, of course not. I didn't think so either.

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Ah - I get it!. He has to have been dead long enough that his flesh has started to rot and kind of hang in shreds off of his body. But then how is he going to be able to walk around? Don't you need intact muscles to propel yourself?

Oh...sorry, I guess I am being too technical. Okay - so a zombie was dead for quite a while, he's kinda half-rotten and nasty looking, but now he's sort of alive, but not really alive...he's just NOT DEAD, and he's walking around scaring the shit out of people. But what's the point? Whose idea was it to make the poor corpses have to get up out of their comfy graves and run around scaring people?

THE DEVIL?? C'mon, Jack! You're shittin' me! You believe in the DEVIL?

Why not? Because the devil is just a figment of people's imagination, that's why!

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Yeah, I'm sure!

Hey...what's going on? Get away from me! What's that noise? Who are all those creepy guys with rotting flesh, coming across the yard? OMIFICTITIOUSGOD! I smell sulfur! And why are you laughing so fiendishly? And where'd you get that PITCHFORK?