When fighting zombies, the only comfort one can have--if, indeed, it can be called a "comfort"--is knowing where the zombies are. "They are over there, and we are over here. When they come at us, we're going to shoot them down. That's how it's going to work. They're just zombies, and they're way over there. No way are we going to f*** this up." But when zombies then unexpectedly pop up behind you--Bam!--the whole battle plan's not so cut and dried, is it, Mr. Tough Guy?
Since zombies are not fully dead, they upset the essential balance of nature: no animals eat zombies, apparently, and zombies do not seem to decay, at least, not to the point of disintegration and reintegration back into the soil, so the food chain, or the circle of life, seems to end or be short-circuited by their existence. Zombies fulfill the worst potentialities of humans to create a hellish kingdom on earth of endless, sterile repetition and boredom.
There was something about clowns that was worse than zombies. (Or maybe something that was the same. When you see a zombie, you want to laugh at first. When you see a clown, most people get a little nervous. There's the pallor and the cakey mortician-style makeup, the shuffling and the untidy hair. But clowns were probably malicious, and they moved fast on those little bicycles and in those little crammed cars. Zombies weren't much of anything. They didn't carry musical instruments and they didn't care whether or not you laughed at them. You always knew what zombies wanted.)
And for God's sake, if you need to shoot make sure to release the safety , ' he murmured, as we moved across the front, careful to stick to the shadows as often as we could. So far, I hadn't seen anyone, not even zombies. It wasn't uncommon for a straggler to come along, every now and then. Lucky for us, we were remote enough that we hadn't had any major issues with any hordes locating us. The men were quick to dispatch any zombies that hung around, not willing to take the risk that somehow they could communicate with each other. Not to mention, the zombies were strong and fast. It was better to end them, rather than to risk them one day killing one of us.
Are zombies possible? They're not just possible, they're actual. We're all zombies. Nobody is conscious "" not in the systematically mysterious way that supports such doctrines as epiphenomenalism. *It would be an act of desperate intellectual dishonesty to quote this assertion out of context!
LARS: WAIT&EACUTE; WHAT'S THAT NOISE?YTCRACKER, ARE THOSE ZOMBIES? YT: ZOMBIES IN THE STUDIO! LARS: THIS IS OUR HORRORCORE SONG BECAUSE IT HAS ZOMBIES ON IT. YT: IT SOUNDS LIKE A HORRORCORE SONG. LARS: YOU KNOW WHO WE SHOULD GET ON THIS TRACK TO HELP US OUT? YT: I'M THINKING ZEALOUS1 AND SCHAFFER THE DARKLORD. LARS: HECK YEAH! YT: WHAT SHOULD WE CALL IT LARS? LARS: I THINK WE SHOULD CALL IT BRUCE CAMPBELL.
MC Lars And YTCracker
Zombies are the ideal late twentieth-century monsters. A zombie is the one thing you can't deal with. It survives anything. Frankenstein's monster and Dracula could be sent down in so many ways. Zombies, though, fall outside all this. You can't argue with them. They just keep coming at you.
She gave him a double-birded salute, and he barked out a rusty laugh. I'm laughing. Me. When was the last time that had happened? He couldn't remember. But she kept doing things to amuse him. Shock him, even. Like pulling out a sword and expressing a very real fear about zombies. Zombies.
I like living in my head because in there, everyone is kind and innocent. Once you start integrating yourself into the world, you realize that people are nasty, mean creatures. They're worse than zombies. People try to crush your soul and destroy your happiness, but zombies just want to have a little nibble of your brain.
J. Cornell Michel
Victor, back there in that basement, when the zombies were... were... moving around on those tables... Twitching? And dead? You didn't even blink. This is nothing like those zombies. No shit. Because this time, you're scared-beyond scared. You're terrified. And whatever's got you scared? I don't want any part of it.
Jordan Castillo Price
Don't stop there. I suppose there are also, what, vampires and werewolves and zombies?" "Of course there are. Although you mostly find zombies farther south, where the voudun priests are." "What about mummies? Do they only hang around Egypt?" "Don't be ridiculous. No one believes in mummies.
I love horror. I love 'The Shining,' 'Friday the 13th,' 'Halloween,' all those kinds of things. I love zombies, especially '28 Days Later' and '28 Weeks Later,' where the zombies are going faster than the George Romero ones. I love being scared; there's something that's awesome about your heart rate going up like that.
Zombies are the liberal nightmare. Here you have the masses, whom you would love to love, appearing at your front door with their faces falling off; and you're trying to be as humane as you possibly can, but they are, after all, eating the cat. And the fear of mass activity, of mindlessness on a national scale, underlies my fear of zombies.
[In case of zombie uprising] Marxists and Feminists would likely sympathize more with zombies. To Marxists, the undead symbolize the oppressed proletariat. Unless the zombies were all undead white males, feminists would likely welcome the posthuman smashing of existing patriarchal structures.
Daniel W. Drezner
Because the idea of zombies seems to make sense, and seems to, in a certain sense, be possible, I think one can use that to argue against the thesis that everything is purely physical. Now many people, I think, agree that the idea of zombies are conceivable, including people who want to be physicalists.
Holly: Seriously, you don't like unicorns? What kind person doesn't like unicorns? Justine: What kind of a person doesn't like zombies? What have zombies ever done to you? Holly: Zombies shamble. I disapprove of shambling. And they have bits that fall off. You never see a unicorn behaving that way. Justine: I shamble. Bits fall off me all the time: hair, skin cells. Are you saying you disapprove of me?
Well, " he said, "I think we've found our way in. We just wait until they're duking it out, but trust me, these Humans First types don't have a lot of staying power or they'd have been at the gym with me before. I doubt Grandma Kent there is going to do a lot of damage." He pointed at a gray-haired, hunched lady in a shawl, carrying what looked liked a gardening tool. "It's like Plants Versus Zombies, and I'm not rooting for the zombies, weirdly enough.
Well," he said, "I think we've found our way in. We just wait until they're duking it out, but trust me, these Humans First types don't have a lot of staying power or they'd have been at the gym with me before. I doubt Grandma Kent there is going to do a lot of damage." He pointed at a gray-haired, hunched lady in a shawl, carrying what looked liked a gardening tool. "It's like Plants Versus Zombies, and I'm not rooting for the zombies, weirdly enough.
She pictured herself running from a hoard of ravenous zombies on a hot day eventually collapsing from heatstroke and getting devoured. Then she imagined Hal giving a rousing eulogy at her funeral explaining how Kendra's death was a beautiful sacrifice allowing the noble zombies to live on delighting future generations by mindlessly trying to eat them. With her luck it could totally happen.
What Hamlet suffers from is a lack of zombies. Let us say Rosencrantz and Guildenstern show up-Ho-HO! Now you've got something that stirs the, um, something that stirs things that are stirrable. BOOM! A pack of ravenous flesh-eaters breaks open their heads and sucks out their eyeballs. No need for iambic pentameter because they are grunting, groaning annihilators of humanity with no time for meter. You're not asleep in the back of English class anymore, are you? This is what I'm talking about. Zombies. Learn it, live it, love it.
What Hamlet suffers from is a lack of zombies. Let us say Rosencrantz and Guildenstern show up""Ho-HO! Now you've got something that stirs the, um, something that stirs things that are stirrable. BOOM! A pack of ravenous flesh-eaters breaks open their heads and sucks out their eyeballs. No need for iambic pentameter because they are grunting, groaning annihilators of humanity with no time for meter. You're not asleep in the back of English class anymore, are you? This is what I'm talking about. Zombies. Learn it, live it, love it.
I like to search for class struggle in strange domains. For example it is clear that in classical Hollywood, the couple of vampires and zombies designates class struggle. Vampires are rich, they live among us. Zombies are the poor, living dead, ugly, stupid, attacking from outside. And it's the same with cats and dogs. Cats are lazy, evil, exploitative, dogs are faithful, they work hard, so if I were to be in government, I would tax having a cat, tax it really heavy.
THEY NEED BRAINS NOT THE KIND THAT YOU GET IN THE BACK OF A CAR AT THE DRIVE IN BUT THE KIND WHERE THEY'RE HIDING IN FEAR LAID UP IN A CREAKY HOUSE WHERE THE PEOPLE SHOUT NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD INSTEAD FULL MOON RISING THEIR SURPRISING EVERY CHICK WITH THEIR SHIRT TORN OFF GOT AN AXE WITH THE BLADE WORN OFF THEY ROAM IN THE SHADOWS SPLIT THEIR MELON I'M TELLING TALKING BOUT THE ZOMBIES STALKING VICTIMS WITH A STICK 'EM UP DEAD FLESH ROTTEN DON'T PICK THEM UP ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD OR GET YOURSELF THROWED BECOME ONE OF THEM AND WALK ALL SLOWED ON A QUEST FOR THE GREY MATTER NOTHING PHATTER THAN A MIND LIKE MINE WHEN THE ZOMBIES DINE
MC Lars And YTCracker
Sure, zombies can 'be a metaphor.' They can represent the oppressed, as in Land of the Dead, or humanity's feral nature, as in 28 Days. Or racial politics or fear of contagion or even the consumer unconscious (Night of the Living Dead, Resident Evil, Dawn of the Dead). We could play this game all night. But really, zombies are not 'supposed to be metaphors.' They're supposed to be friggin' zombies. They follow the Zombie Rules: they rise from death to eat the flesh of the living, they shuffle in slow pursuit (or should, anyway), and most important, they multiply exponentially. They bring civilization down, taking all but the most resourceful, lucky and well-armed among us, whom they save for last. They make us the hunted; all of us. That's the stuff zombies are supposed to do. Yes, they make excellent symbols, and metaphors, and have kick-ass mythopoeic resonance to boot. But their main job is to follow genre conventions, to play with and expand the Zombie Rules, to make us begin to see the world as a place colored by our own zombie contingency plans. [... ] Stories are the original virtual reality device; their internal rules spread out into reality around us like a bite-transmitted virus, slowly but inexorably consuming its flesh. They don't just stand around 'being metaphors' whose sole purpose is to represent things in the real world; they eat the real world.
Shawshank's good, ' he says. 'But you can't beat the way Woody Harrelson kills zombies. He takes such joy in it.' 'Uh-huh, ' I say, making a face. 'I've always found zombies to be the least threatening of the scary monsters. I mean, come on. They're slow. They're brain-dead. They don't plot evil or try to take over the world. They just-' I put my arms out in front of me and give him my best zombie groan. I shake my head. 'So not scary.' 'But they just. Keep. Coming, ' Christian says. 'You can run, you can kill them, but more of them always pop up, and they never stop.' He shudders. 'And they try to eat you, and if you get bitten, that's it-you're infected. You're doomed to become a zombie yourself. End of story.' 'Okay, ' I concede, 'they're kind of scary, ' and now I'm vaguely disappointed that we're not here to watch a zombie movie.
Zombies are familiar characters in philosophical thought experiments. They are like people in every way except they have no internal experience... If there are enough zombies recruited into our world, I worry about the potential for a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe if people pretend they are not conscious or do not have free will - or that the cloud of online people is a person; if they pretend there is nothing special about the perspective of the individual - then perhaps we have the power to make it so. We might be able to collectively achieve antimagic. Humans are free. We can commmit suicide for the benefit of a Singularity. We can engineer our genes to better support an imaginary hive mind. We can make culture and journalism into second-rate activities and spend centuries remixing the detritus of the 1960s and other eras from before individual creativity went out of fashion. Or we can believe in ourselves. By chance, it might turn out we are real.