You're not going to like this blog...

Because you're a Zombie.

I actually believe that. In my heart of hearts. Deep down in the cockles, perhaps the sub-cockle region. You are a zombie.

I'm not talking about hunger-for-the-flesh-of-the-living or extra-in-a-Romero-flick zombie. But instead I think you are a Philosophical Zombie, lacking in the quintessence that makes one "real".

You shamble through your life, shuffling from home to work to the mall and back home again. Trapped in the horrific existence of the living-dead. I'll come back to this in a moment.

Sorry, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

Let me clear up a few things up before I continue.

The tone of this blog may seem, at times, as if I am talking down to you. That's because I am. If that offends you, I am sorry. But its true. I am better than you. But then again, I am an anomaly. I am self-aware.

You are most likely not self-aware. You are not an anomaly. You are not a special snowflake. You are a Zombie. It is likely you have taken offense to being called such, and may have even stopped reading by this point. Its ok. I'm fine with that. Remember, I pointed out that you weren't going to like this blog. This actually leads to another point.

I'm not writing this for you. I am writing it from me. To let the words out of my head. To express my own sense of sadness and loss. My terror at being surrounded, deep within enemy territory. Zombies everywhere I look. I'm trapped in the mall and no one is coming.

Now, please please please don't assume that I'm intentionally attempting to interest you by insulting you, or that I am unbelievably full of myself. (1)

The "He thinks I'm dumb, I'll prove him wrong" hook has been played. Its tired. And, I am full of myself. So please, if your only comment is going to be an attempt to try to convince me that I'm not special, or to get me to question me "specialness"...save it. The world around me has done a better job of it than any 5 lines you could ever write in a comment.

Also I'm not really deep enough to keep that approach going for long.

Now...what was I saying...

Oh yeah, you're a Zombie. Shambling around. Check.

Now outwardly you may mistake me for a zombie if you were to ever meet me in real life. I have a day job, I go to the mall, I drive a nice family car. Strip away the illusion of anonymity the Internet provides and you might see someone not to dissimilar to yourself. But don't let that fool you my friend. That is simply a cover. An act. Camouflage. I have to blend in, lest the zombies become aware of my presence.

Why? (2)

You see, the Zombie is a pack hunter. If one gets a whiff of fresh meat...well, you can just forget about going to the mall ever again, because in mere seconds you'll be nipples deep in zombies.

Zombies envy what they don't have, and they hate what they don't understand.

And I have self-awareness. Something they would envy if they could understand it. But since they don't understand it, they would just try to destroy it. I've seen it happen before.

The Zombie isn't self aware. It may act like it. It may cry out if it burns its hand, but it really doesn't feel. That's just a chemical reaction. Nerves in the hand transmit impulses to the brain, the brain reacts in a pre-programmed manner.

And worst still, the Zombie doesn't know it isn't self-aware. Most zombies never give a moment's thought to it's own awareness. It saddens me, but it is true.

But the absolute worst of them all is the Zombie that thinks it is aware. This is a special class of monster. Scarier than the rest. This kind of zombie thinks it is aware, and that it has the right to expose its ideals and force them on to others. It sits in dark rooms, or legislative halls, and gibbers in near human voices, a macabre shadow of a real person. This, invariably, is the most dangerous kind.

Wow...that got a bit more metaphorie than I first planned. So I'll drop that for now. I'll pick it back up when I have something new to say on the topic.


~~~~~~~~~


TL;DR is place for me to post all those rants and raves that I would usually post on other blogs or forums but don't because I have become aware that zombies don't read.

Here I get to explore, uninterrupted, concepts that would take too long to explain to someone over a chat or in a thread (that could get jacked at any second by a picture of a gribble with a pancake on its head).

A place where I can tackle the hard topics for no one but myself.

Concepts like Truth, Normalcy, Love, Blowjobs....you know...deep stuff like that.

Now, in the above comments you may have gotten the impression that I hate Zombies. I don't. I feel bad for them. And from time to time I still try to educate them. (It never seems to work, but it is the responsibility of all people with selfawareness to attempt to help the zombies).

Hell, some of my best friends are Zombies.

Something I hope for this blog would be for a Zombie to read the some of the posts here and wake up a bit. (Which is unlikely, due to zombies not being able to read and all.)

What I really hope is to fine some more real people. I am lucky enough to actually know a few. The world is lucky if there are a hundred real people alive right now.

Hell...if you've read this far, and not just skipped down from the top, chances are slightly better in my eyes that you may not be a zombie.

Well....till later.



(1) My epic egotism is only tangentially related to my belief that I am special. Wit, charm, an I.Q. in the 160's and a large penis are just a few of the things that make me special.

(2) I really hope you just didn't ask that question to your computer screen. Or worse yet, out-loud.