Now that we’ve determined that you’re not Daryl, let’s talk about the lack of decent accommodations in the post-apocalyptic zombie world scenario. No restaurants, no air-conditioning, no television? What are you supposed to do all day? Sweat? Entertain yourself?! WALK? Ugggggh. It’s like camping in Hell – and that’s before you even add the zombies-eating-your-face factor.
And even if the zombies all of a sudden died off simultaneously from some sort of disease, can you imagine the rebuilding process? All that infrastructure that would need to be repaired or replaced before things got up and running again? Who’s going to do all that work? You know probably half the population got wiped out, taking out untold numbers of skilled service technicians.
As it stands today, when I call Comcast to come out and fix my high speed internet, they send someone out in three to five years. I can tell you this much, it’s gonna be at least fifty years before you get streaming Netflix back, and I don’t care to even think about having to live in that kind of world.
Are you prepared for the return of dial-up internet? Adjusting the tracking on your VCR? Making your own avocado toast? Because I’m looking at your wireless bluetooth earbuds and Starbucks Venti Mocha Lowfat Half-Caff Macchiato right now and I don’t think you are.
You couldn’t even deal with getting thrown back to 90s technology. The zombie apocalypse? Please. You’re too soft for that hard reality, Taylor. Own it. Own it like a cashmere sweater wrapped in Charmin.
You don’t even know what a Motorola pager looks like, let alone how to work one. You probably think Motorola is some kind of flavored seltzer made in Detroit that’s trying to compete with La Croix. The kind that you’d drink with your “squad” while Instagramming photos of yourself wearing an ironic Dwight Schrute one-piece bathing suit, hanging out on the lake on a giant inflatable pizza float. You woke up like dis, etc.
Even if you managed to survive the zombie apocalypse, you’d just be dead weight to the rest of the survivors. You’d be too busy trying to break into the Sallie Mae office to destroy your student loan records to even bother helping everyone else forage for loose guinea pigs to eat. Then, as previously discussed, you would shoot yourself in the face with a crossbow and ruin a perfectly good crossbow arrow.
Quit being so selfish and learn your limitations as a human being. Take yourself out, Taylor.
Oh god – and the cleaning. The cleaning! Let’s just say they manage to get power back up and running to the local Cracker Barrel. Do you know how much blood and guts and trash will have to be cleaned up in that place before you’d feel comfortable eating hashbrown casserole there again?
Okay, not actually that much for me, because that hashbrown casserole is so good I would inhale it from a possum’s belly button like it was a body shot on Spring Break, but for the rest of the people??
People get uptight about finding an errant hair in their food. Can you imagine how thrilled they would be to have to flag down a server to say, “Excuse me, but there seems to be half a rotting human face mixed into my hashbrown casserole?”
Finally, let’s talk about the catastrophe co-opter. We all know this asshole! This is the person who didn’t actually have anything bad happen to them, but still insists on interrupting everyone else’s actual grief so they can be upset about something bad that happened to their neighbor five doors down who they didn’t even know.
There’d be some poor woman with no legs, one eye, and 3/4 of an arm, crying and telling a reporter about how zombies ate her various appendages and all her babies, and the catastrophe co-opter would bust in like, “Oh yeah? Well I lost my neighbor from five doors down! I lost MY neighbor! You’re not the only victim here okay, Kathy?!”
The zombie apocalypse is so annoying.