After tonight’s end to the wild, rocking South Carolina primary, here’re my thoughts on the continuing slow-rolling zombie apocalypse and our zombie-fication.

– Marlow

As we saw during Campaign 2016, these 2020 zombies look like men and women, walk like men and women, eat and otherwise function fully, yet are devoid of the human spark. They represent the nagging doubt that lays deep in the heart of even the most zealous, God-fearing believers: behind all of our pretty church songs and our worship temples’ sparkly stained glass, this is what they really are. Shambling meat. Our prior fear of zombies was that their bite would turn us into one of them. My fear is that our 24/7 obsession with them has turned us one and all already into zombies.

The worst thing about these risen dead is their smell. Nothing kills a mellow mood like the odor of three day old road kill and shit — by this I mean their BS campaign promises and cost-free freebies.

Can you smell their smell?

While watching them endlessly sweet talk us with a future of puppy dogs and rainbows, my uncommanded mind transforms them so that I see them all as those weird furry people with padded coat hangers on their heads that look like space aliens on LSD. Yes, I mean the BBC’s Teletubbies. To our benefit these American versions do not sing those brain worm songs like those fury demons of torture from hell crooned at us.

These zombies should be a liberal nightmare. They appear in masses, pretending to love to love us, endlessly appearing at our front doors and TVs with their faces falling off and their ideas falling apart upon even cursory inspection. We try to be as humane as we possibly can to them, but they are, after all, proposing to eat our 401K’s and our private health care insurance. Where is our fear of this massed activity of madness, of their mindlessness on a national scale, where is our fear of these zombies?

Have they become fashionable, dare I say, ideal twenty-first century monsters? Zombies are the one thing we can’t deal with. They survive anything. Frankenstein’s monster and Dracula could be dealt with in many ways. Zombies, though, fall outside all this. You can’t argue with them. They just keep coming at you. So, do we learn to live with them, if not enjoy their company?

Maybe it’s because they’re operating secret, undisclosed location, chocolate factories that will keep us in chocolates 24/7, world without end, Amen. Maybe they have discovered that feeding us chocolate is much more rewarding than trying to take over everything. Pretty cagey if you ask me – turning all of us humans into mindless, blissed out drones and robots,

They are all screeching about the coming environmental apocalypse. While they promise to pardon us from such a fatal sentence, maybe I should consider surviving under these zombie and robot overlords — I don’t know. I’d probably do okay hidden in the middle of the herds and sacrificing the occasional person to keep myself alive, but where I’m gonna hide when all the food is gone?

Most of you know where you came from and are at present. I know where I came from and where I’m at. But where, oh where, did all these damn zombies and their zombie supporters come from?

In the end, I detest their shambling and their utter smell of decay, rot and poop. I’m off to the store to buy a mask. I suggest you do the same,

Copyright © 2020 From My Isle Seat