Friday, July 17, 2009

Concerning Zombies: We Can Do It!

   

By;Andrew North

   Back in the golden years of human conflict, the Dark Lord Hitler declared war on Jesus Christ. The God fearing nations of the world rose up in defense of Heaven and in the brilliant pyrotechnics of holy warfare Japan was nuked, Germany lost their military and Russia continued to suck. But while all of this was happening there was a different, less exciting crisis going on in the homesteads of North America (excluding Canada, of course, though presumably stuff can happen there too). The men were gone, leaving the factories, offices and other buildings under male domination mostly empty. So the women became the work force of America: They rolled up their sleeves, put on red bandanas, flexed homosexually and got to work building the machinations of war. There was a gap that needed to be filled and women rose up to meet the challenge, proving once again that they were capable of more than just housewife activities.

    All this to say that there is a mentality subconsciously held by all straight men from which we must rip ourselves. We must remember that these creatures dominating our everyday thoughts and adorations are more than objects of sexual appeal. They are entities to which there is much more than meets the eye. It’s common for a man to underestimate them despite his completely understandable infatuation, but it’s time we stopped underestimating them and begin to learn what they are fully capable of. I’m referring, of course, to boobs, and behind every boob is a woman waiting to rise self-righteously to the bar set for her by older generations.

   It is crucial in zombie induced post apocalyptic settings that groups travelling together work with a well focused competence; this means operating with as few distractions as possible. The tendency of humans to participate in mating rituals, in any environment, will inevitably lead to males taking unnecessary risks to protect The Boobs from the undead because, lets be honest, it’s much easier than talking to a woman. But The Boobs are capable of defending themselves, and, since most women feel so insecure about being female, they will often be more eager to fight undead in order to show that they are, in fact, just like men but without external genitalia. Since even the slightest mistake can result in an infected bite or cut the men must remember that when they’re on the run they must refrain from protecting The Boobs unless it’s absolutely necessary, no matter how much they want to sleep with them. Men must work with women in such a way that they compliment each others zombie surviving talents, and nothing more, even if it means occasionally letting them do most of the work and looking like a lazy asshole.

    The Boobs aren’t the sole source of distraction on the field, though. The woman also has something to do with it, they are after all connected. I can say with absolute confidence that I represent the majority of the male gender when I state that boobs are distracting and the conversation of flirtatious vixens augments this effect exponentially. The 1-10 hotness scale often used surreptitiously among men to classify a female’s attractiveness is directly proportional to the 1-10 endangering scale. If a woman is a four on the scale then she will be safe to be around provided she wears an unflattering sweater. A woman who is a ten on the scale, however, will be a liability no matter how heavy a sweater she puts on.

   A zombie is indiscriminate. Whether a human is a man or a woman or both or neither is inconsequential to it. This is how we must think. When we’re on the run we shouldn’t be men, women or boobs, but an asexual team operating at the highest level of group efficiency. Because even though women aren’t men, they have shown in the past that a woman is ready and able to accomplish what needs to be done sort of like a man. And now, out of fear that there are people other than my close friends and family and a bakers dozen of social degenerates reading these exposes, I’m going to lock my self in my room and wait for the angry “women are cool too” mobs to abate.

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