Zombies, Schmombies!

There is an overwhelming interest in Zombies and the dark forces in this generation. I think it’s very interesting that all the while Bill Maher tries to convince everyone that atheism is cool because he thinks God can easily be explained away, there’s a huge push on TV and in the movies to convince us that dark and Satanic forces are alive and thriving. I am so tired of Vampires, Werewolves, and Zombies, I could just kill myself.

On the other hand, Zombies could be very handy if you can get them under control. They don’t turn into bats and hang around in the barn all day like Vampires, and they are availble more often than just at the full moon like Werewolves.

Zombies could provide a great workforce. They can take simple direction - you just point them to where you want them to go and give them a shove. They can carry heavy loads. Just stick a hod on their backs and fill it up and give them a push and off they go! If they trip and fall on the job, there’s no workers comp to worry about since they’re already dead. I figure any WC claim they filed would take at least a year to process because that’s how long it would take to establish that they were verifiably non-living. The employer would have to provide their death certificate and then probably send them to an approved Worker’s Comp doctor to document a lack of vital signs.

An employer wouldn’t have to worry about health insurance with Zombies, or salaries. And forget paying Social Security taxes for them. Social Security uses death as a cutoff for payouts. So, even if you’re dead but still working, you can’t collect Social Security.

And that’s how Zombies would make money for the lawyers. Somebody would have to represent the Zombies in a group action and sue for compensation for work rendered and for equal rights to Social Security benefits. If the undead do the same job as the living, the pay and benefits have to be the same under the equal opportunity laws of this country.

But we might want to draw the line at letting them have driver’s licenses. Their sight, along with their eyes, seems to be the first things to go. I think the Police would be tempted to pull over every Zombie they saw, and then the Zombies could file suit for profiling. I think employers might prefer to pick them up each morning with a pick up truck and stack them in the back like cordwood and drop them off at the work site. I doubt that seatbelt laws would apply to them since seatbelts are designed to save lives and Zombies would be exempt by virtue of their death. They could carry around a little Zombie ID card that read “FKA (Formerly Known As) John Smith, DOB 7-21- 1962, DOD 12-31-2007, Race: green, Donor Status: No”.

Being a Zombie is really a rather liberated existence if you think about it. You don’t have to worry about your looks since your hair is falling out, and your skin is a constant challenge. You can wear anything you can find. You don’t have to worry about drinking too much since it will only serve as a preservative for you. You can finally conquer your weight problems since you’ll be shriveling up on a fairly consistent basis. You can smoke all you want and nobody is going to say, “Those things will kill you!” You can go swimming and never drown. Catching crabs would be easier than ever since the crabs would now be looking for you. You can lay on the beach all day and not worry about sun exposure - as long as you can keep yourself together you’ll be fine. Yes, I have to admit, there can be some real benefits to being undead.

Quack Addiction

There is sex going on under my front porch. Shameless, noisy, sex. And I’m sick of it. If I’m not having sex on or under my front porch, nobody else can.... these damn ducks. They think they can just do whatever they want, anywhere they want and we’re not supposed to notice. There’s two females and there’s at least six to eight males all crowding around them, trying to impress the girls with whatever boy ducks use to impress. And apparently sometimes one, or two or three of them get lucky if noise is any indicator. Finally I had enough and leaned my head over the side to talk one of the girls when they were taking a tick eating break in the grass.

Me: “Do you guys have to meet under my front porch? Can’t you take this somewhere else?”
Loretta Duck: “Look lady, we’ve always done it here. This is a well known mating location. The people before you fed us, something you could try.”
Me: “No, then they’ll be more of you and you’ll invite more friends. There’s enough group sex going on here as it is, I don’t need another dozen of you squawking and making the racket worse!”
Loretta Duck: “Jealous?”
Me: “Don’t be absurd. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a duck.”
Loretta Duck: “Oh yeah? Well a duck wouldn’t be caught dead with you, unless he was strung out on quack.”
Me: “Very funny.”
Loretta Duck: “Hey, I’m serious. Quack is an epidemic in our community. You think it’s an accident when you see a dead duck on the road? It’s not. That duck was either too strung out on quack to know he was in the road, or, worse, he just decided to end it all.”
Me: “Boy are you a lame duck. There’s no drug problem in the duck community. You eat ticks and worms out of the dirt for heaven’s sake, where do you find drugs?”
Loretta Duck: “What do you think is in those ticks? What could possibly be tasty in a tick? They have a chemical, a drug we call quack. You start off eating a few with your friends, then you start picking them out when you’re alone, soon, you can’t stop.”
Me: “So, is that what you were doing just now? Getting a hit of quack?”
Loretta Duck: “What’s it to you? I have a few hits in the morning and at night. I have it under control.”
Me: “How will you know when it’s out of control?”
Loretta Duck: “When I prefer it to the bread that people throw.”
Me: “So what are you saying? I’m responsible for your quack habit if I don’t throw you bread?”
Loretta Duck: “Bread, old bagels, buns, most people are very generous and that’s what keeps the quack addiction so low here. But, don’t feed us if you don’t want to. If you can stand to see the ducks who meet here driven slowly mad, don’t feed us. If you don’t mind one of us occasionally wandering under the wheels of your car, don’t feed us. We’ll just eat the ticks on your front lawn and soon you’ll have nothing but quack addicts under your porch.”
Me: “I resent being manipulated.”
Loretta Duck: “I understand. But really, you can’t spare any bread?”
Me: “I don’t approve of enabling you. Is rye okay?”
Loretta Duck: “It’s a start.”

Melissa Duck: “Did it work Loretta? Is she getting us bread?”
Loretta Duck: “That story always gets them! And it’s rye - we’re getting rye bread! Go get the boys, we’re going to party tonight!”

Child Rearing Tips

Recently, I think it was in Good Housekeeping Magazine, there was an article about how annoying mothers find it when strangers volunteer parenting advice. I know what that’s like. I used to get all kinds of annoying parental advice.

“You shouldn’t leave your child in the car while you go in the IGA, lady!”
If they had paid attention, they would have seen that I had the window cracked and they each had a little bottle of water.

“You shouldn’t put your kids in the trunk just to save an extra two bucks on the ferry!”
Yes, but little did they know I was planning to spend those two extra dollars on the children themselves, why? Because no sacrifice is too much to ask for my children.

Or the ferryman who used to say, “Pop the trunk, Ms. Flynn, we know you have the kids in there.”
“Yes, but they each have a little bottle of water...”

There was time I made a quick stop for some essentials.
“Ma’am, I don’t think it’s legal to duct tape your child in his stroller.”
“Listen Mister, you don’t know this kid - he’s a real escape artist! If I don’t tape him in, he gets loose and tries to run with the stroller strapped to his back!”
“Because he’s too big to be in a stroller! How old is he? Four?”
“Four and a half.”
“Four and half? Then why is he still in a stroller?”
“To slow him down so I can catch him, you fool! It takes me a minute or two to pay for my drink, get my purse and get out of The Dory once I see him through the front window making his big move. I always catch him within a block, so there’s no harm done.”

Or when I took the kids fishing off the dock.
“Lady, your kid’s eating out of your bait cup!”
“Relax, it’s fresh bait, I just picked it up an hour ago.” Imagine thinking I’d let my kid eat old bait, what kind of mother would do that?

Or when I’d be treading clams for dinner and hear someone yell, “Why is your child tied to an anchor on the beach? He’s eating sand!”
“I can’t bring him out here with me, he tips the basket!”
“Then take him home!”
“You take him home. I’ll give you half my basket,” I yell back. But they never take me up on my offer. I don’t know what they worry about. I always used a round anchor, not a pointy one, that would be dangerous. And I could see the kid the whole time, so what was the problem?”

I never understood what all the fuss was about. There’s lots of ways to raise good kids. Both of my kids are young adults now. And you know what? Neither of them has any problem climbing into the trunk when we get on the ferry.