Opting out of the zombie apocalypse

Let’s just say that in the event of a zombie or post-election apocalypse, I’m not the gal you want by your side.

As the brutality of Walking Dead amps up each season, I am more inclined to think the lucky ones were those who were killed early on. The ones who survived not only had to fight ever-increasing hordes of zombies, but they were ultimately forced to realize that the most horrific monsters were other humans. Is it better to have cruelly lost dozens of people you loved, sometimes by your own hand, or to have just given up early on, to let the zombies win? They get a meal, you get out of the horrific fight for survival; it’s a win-win.

I’ve felt the same devastation followed by resignation after this election. I am trying not to be melodramatic, though if any election inspired melodrama, it was this one. I am still stunned that a candidate who is on tape mocking a person with disabilities and bragging about sexually assaulting women was even allowed on the national stage, much less actually elected to be president. With each cabinet pick, I am further disappointed and anxious, as it’s clear this most divisive candidate has no intention of bridging any gaps, but instead intends to make sure his buddies are in the castle, then pull up the drawbridge, leaving America across the moat. Those of us who railed against Trump’s nationalistic hatred of the “other,” his overt sexualization of women and girls (including his own daughter), and his “Make America Hate Again” agenda take little comfort in knowing that the popular vote was handily won by a competent woman who wanted all of America to succeed, not just the white males. It feels like a murder trial where the accused gets off on a technicality — we know he did it, but he wasn’t read his rights, so the confession is out.

I’m not saying the world is ending and apocalypse is nigh. At least not yet. I’m not even saying that Trump is a zombie. For one thing, zombies have a clarity of focus Trump lacks. They need to eat. That is their singular mission. No grabbing the genitals of other zombies because you have a celebrity free-pass, no inappropriate sexual comments about one’s daughter in zombieland. But I am nervous. Someone with such a large ego and thin skin should not have access to nuclear weapons. It’s what we’ve been saying about North Korea for years, and it’s no less true now.

But as we’ve seen, the zombies are not the real threat in a zombie apocalypse. The real threat is the brutality of other men. Men whose true nature is shown when a power vacuum allows for atrocities to be carried out on a massive scale, unchecked. The sadist Negan does not worry about the Hague. Civilization in a zombie apocalypse is not organized enough to put one on trial for war crimes. I wish I could say that post-apocalyptic world seems far from ours, but alas, we live in a world where admittedly fake news is accepted and defended despite contradictory evidence (such as the author admitting he made it all up). Climate change data (you know, that crazy conspiracy we call “science“) is responded to with a petulant “nuh-uh.” White supremacy groups cheered this election; hate group activity has spiked upon what bigots see as a tacit approval of their ideology by the electoral process. I am not free from cynicism about politicians, but I still believe that, on the whole, most public servants are at least trying to do just that — serve the public — even if I don’t always agree with the policies they hold. Trump’s cabinet picks, on the other hand, seem more akin to Yosemite Sam, gunslinging prospectors more intent on tracking down pesky rabbits (read: anyone who is not a white man) rather than competently confronting the assigned job.

And part of me wants to give up. To just check out for four (it has to be only four, my mind is not ready to contemplate eight) years. Put me in a coma, and wake me up when it’s over. Hopefully by then, the pendulum will swing back, and racism and sexism will once again be considered pejorative terms, not hate-rallying battle cries.

But here’s the problem: there is too much to fight for. If in the case of a real zombie apocalypse, I just let the zombies eat me, then that’s the end of my story. No more suffering but also no chance to help someone else. If I at least go down fighting, who knows what other lives I could affect or save just by joining the cause and not going gentle into that good night. If you won’t fight for yourself, fight for those who are threatened by their proposed legislation: those who may lose affordable healthcare, or residency, or those who just don’t want to be drowned by the swiftly melting ice caps. The other side is willing to fight — willing to put their fingers and ignore facts which don’t support their agenda, willing to ravage the earth’s resources just so they can pocket more money. We have to be willing to fight back.

I’m not sure of the specifics yet. I don’t know the best way to unite a revolution against an orange man with tiny little hands tweeting his fury when someone dares to criticize him. Yes, support your congresspeople who are willing to stand up to him. Yes, protest. Yes, tweet, if only because it may be the only way he stays current since he’s skipping security briefings. We will find our ways to fight back, and we must. Just give me a few more weeks of denial with my head under the covers.


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One Comment on "Opting out of the zombie apocalypse"

  1. Dman
    15/12/2016 at 9:14 am Permalink

    I agree , I might just perambulate ,go on a 4 yr walk about down under ,expatriate myzelf ,excoriate this president elect and come back later….

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