When the zombie apocalypse arrives — and you may rest assured that it will, do not delude yourself on that score — I'm going to have some concerns. The expected ones, naturally; will my skull be cracked open like a filbert and my brains scooned out and used to nourish the slavering undead? Will I join their ranks and become a groaning, decomposing, ravenous, revivified, ambulatory corpse? Is human gray matter as delicious as popular depictions of zombieism would have us believe? Which tastes better, dumb brains or smart ones? Must we nosh exclusively on human tissue or will the brains of livestock or marine mammals do just as well?
But there are some other issues which have been adequately addressed in the zombie canon. First and foremost is the question of religion. Frankly, I'm more than a little concerned about the prospect of Muslim zombies. I don't want these fiends pushing their Islam agenda as they attempt to consume me and my nearest and dearest. Furthermore, the simple fact of their ill-informed religious choice elevates their brain-eating to an act of terror. Plus, if I am bitten and therefore "turned" by a Musselman zombie, will the doctrine transmit along with the zombieism? The thought is too horrible to even contemplate. I would hope and assume that the staunch Christian values I hold dear are embedded at the cellular level and would have no problem beating back the weak, ineffectual virus of Islam.
If you take a moment to consider all those weird and crazy fringe cults out there masquerading as religion — your Jews, your Muslims, your Mormons, what have you — they all have certain proscriptions regarding what they are allowed to eat.
Jews designate things as either kosher or not, kosher being allowed and "not" including things like cheeseburgers and pepperoni pizza— can you imagine? There are actually people walking among us unstoned, uncrucified, who find these pillars of good American nutrition "unclean." The Muslims have a similar designation called "halal," although what it may constitute or proscribe I have no idea. I suspect it has something to do with their witch doctors muttering nonsensical charms and incantations over their food.
The Hindus won't eat meat at all and in fact elevate cattle to something roughly analogous to sainthood. Pardon me while I ROTFL as I consider this absurd behavior. I'd like to take every blessed Hindu on a field trip to a Texas feedlot and slaughterhouse followed by a visit to Ruth's Chris for a vivid and delicious demonstration of what cattle are actually for.
Am I being overly facile in suggesting that India's many ills could be overcome with the application of a beef-based diet? Perhaps, but then, no one thought the spread of disease could be stemmed by simple hand-washing, either.
The Mormons won't take any alcohol or caffeine, which explains their lack of zip and general physical attractiveness (no beer goggles). However, simply being handsome and well-rested is no guarantee of winning a Presidential election, as we've seen. And being a Mormon zombie would put them at a distinct disadvantage, given the proliferation of Starbucks, energy drinks, and craft cocktails in our society. I myself am generally so completely permeated with vodka and Red Bull that a Mormon attempting to devour me would be reduced to a condition of apostasy by simply smelling me. Good luck finding a true American without caffeine in their system, Zombie Romney. Might be that litter of scions you foisted upon the world has some use after all: to sustain you in your undeadness.
The Hindu zombies would be, of course, nonstarters. People are made exclusively of meat. There are no soy-substitute humans, despite what a casual visitor to Mendocino Village or Comptche might reasonably surmise. The Hindus would simply starve.
The Jews and Muslims would be hamstrung by their insistence on having zombie rabbis and imams sanctify their brains before eating. Christians have the only religion with divine sanction to eat whatever they damn well please, which means: Christians win the zombie apocalypse! Just like we win everything else, of course. The Crusades, World War II, the Olympics, The Bachelor, American Idol… The list goes on and on. Everything worth winning is won by Christians. No one else even gets on the podium.
So. What makes me so sure of the impending ascension of the undead? Plato, of course. I've never actually read the man — who's got time for that? — but I've managed to glean a thing or two from comic books, overheard conversations, and talk radio, and the gist of it is that man does not invent or create, he discovers.
Let me explain. See, way, way back in the day, back when God did his legendary Genesis thing and de-voided the nothing, he made the world and it was good. Then he made man — also good — and populated the world with all manner of flying, creeping, swimming, and galloping beasts, over which man had complete dominion and the right to slaughter, enslave, eat, or render into clothing or piano keys as he saw fit. A number of the larger animals disagreed vigorously with this arrangement, but only until Man was able to arm himself sufficiently to assert his dominion planet-wide.
Anyway, God had a stage — the world — a cast — Mankind — and a shit-load of extras — the cattle and the creeping things.
Now all the Great Playwright In The Sky needed was a script, so he sat down and wrote not only about eleventy-bazillion pages of dialogue, but an equal number of scenes and plot twists and conflicts and resolutions and denouements. He also conceived of everything man might ever need or want or desire, and he broadcast it into the ether. Everything. A-bombs, spatulas, skyscrapers, cheese, algebra, pop comics, Viagra, macrame, jazz fusion — everything we have, have had, or ever will have. He then installed an upgrade into humanity which allowed them access to these files on a limited and graduated basis — those that didn't choose the Ask Me Later option, anyway. With these antennae, Man has been able to extract the raw data with which to conceive and construct all the various diversions, tools, toys weapons, and fripperies which both simplify and complicate our lives. It is important to remember, though, that we are only conduits to receive and execute God's plan.
When a man conceives of some scenario not yet actualized upon the earth, it is not fiction or fancy but in fact Prophesy. That’s right, it's all going to come true. Transformers, Spongebob, Twilight, Star Wars, and every other work of "fiction" will one day manifest on the earth. That, in a nutshell, is Platonism. Tune into this space later for explanations of Existentialism and Logical Positivism.
Given the vast proliferation of zombie-related material in recent years, I am forced to conclude that the apocalypse is nigh and you'd all do well to prepare yourselves. Don’t try to fight it, there's no point. Once the virus takes hold, it's just a matter of time. The important thing is to get yourself bitten by a good Christian zombie, and then you can seek out Muslims and Mormons and other deviants to convert.
Until you do get turned, beware of zombies prefacing their attacks with utterances like "Allahu Akbar" "Behati Prinsloo" and "Hi, I'm Mitt Romney and I'm running for President." They are the enemy. Look for crucifixes, Virgin Mary tattoos, Laura Ashley prints, and golf spikes to ensure the right sort of infection. Then go forth and spread the Word of the Lord by eating the brains of nonbelievers.
Once all the bad religions have been purged and scourged, I have it on good authority that the virus will spontaneously extinguish, allowing Man's resurgence into a freshly cleansed Christian world and ushering in an age of peace, harmony, and good Christian values. All in all, I’d have to say a brilliant plan, fiendishly clever and absolutely foolproof. No less than what I'd expect from a supreme being.
On a related note, at the latest Republican debate, a sizable squadron of undead descended en masse upon the congregation and bum-rushed the stage in search of some cerebral nourishment, but after a few exploratory skull-crackings found nothing but a few dazed moths, a woodpecker, and a pile of pencil-shavings. Further inspection of the crania of the moderators and assembled audience proved just as fruitless, as every blessed brain-pan in the joint was as empty as Elvis' tomb. Luckily, the ill-starred zombies were able to satiate themselves next door at a support group for the recently lobotomized.