Tag Archives: Culture

Atlas Fugged: Why Ayn Rand Is Making Me Boycott Lululemon

Earlier this month, pricey yoga pant and cheesy sentiment pushers Lululemon started putting the phrase “Who is John Galt?” on their bags. Then they posted a blisteringly insipid entry on their blog to explain how a quote from Ayn Rand’s epic heap of political science excrement, Atlas Shrugged, had become the new “drink eight glasses of water each day.”

Lululemon founder, Chip Wilson, an intellect who usually spends his time contemplating the deep philosophies of the Landmark cult apparently first read Atlas Shrugged when he was 18 and was recently inspired to dig into the greater meaning of the book. (This Ayn Rand Appreciation Trajectory, I would like to point out, is the exact opposite of any rational person’s.) “Only later, looking back, did he realize the impact the book’s ideology had on his quest to elevate the world from mediocrity to greatness (it is not coincidental that this is Lululemon’s company vision)” writes lulu blogger Alexis (emphasis hers, sadly enough).

Atlas Shrugged, Alexis goes on to explain, is a story about a horrible world where the bad government has too much control, and that leads to mediocrity. And that might sound far-fetched, but thing is, we all accept mediocrity in our daily lives! So, basically, “Who is John Galt?” is on their bags to remind their customers to strive for greatness and never accept mediocrity. (Unless, of course, we’re talking about accepting the massive dive in quality that I noticed when Lululemon stopped making their clothing in Canada.)

Because $100 yoga pants that are going to pill after one wash = greatness.

Now, I have been known to enjoy the occasional piece of Lululemon clothing. I work in the fitness industry, after all, so lulu-wearing is a bit of an inevitability. But I just can’t abide by this. As long as any words from that scourge on political theory and literature remain on Lululemon’s bags, I will stay the fuck out of their store.

You see, I’m particularly sensitive to all things of this nature because I went through an ill-advised Rand phase myself. I was 13, I was bullied and had very few friends, and I’d had some run-ins with a school system that didn’t really want to deal with the weird gifted kid. And then I found a bunch of books about misunderstood special people who weren’t respected by society and went and lived in the mountains with other special people and lived happily ever after, and I thought that sounded really good. But then I turned 14, gained a basic understanding of the world and realized how fucking juvenile and downright stupid Ayn Rand’s writing and her bullshit philosophy, Objectivism, really were.

If Objectivism promotes excellence, then how do you explain this awful artwork?

You know how former smokers are the most virulent and in-your-face anti-smokers? Well, that’s me with Ayn Rand. I hate her so much that I can’t even bring myself to revisit any of her work and craft a more sophisticated argument against her than the one I developed while I was, well, developing. But I’m not going to let that stop me. If Lululemon can write a blog post that features an embarrassingly infantile grasp of an embarrassingly infantile philosophy, then so can I.

Here is a synopsis of Atlas Shrugged, as remembered by my 13-year-old self:

There’s this woman named Dagny Taggart and she runs her family business Taggart Steel or whatever the hell it’s called. She is a woman, but she doesn’t let her IQ-melting vagina of mediocrity get in the way of her being a super awesome business man, because, um… because Ayn Rand needed a way to reconcile her misogyny with her narcissism.

She has a trusty manservant who works his ass off for her and her company, but he’s working class, so fuck him.

Taggart Steel Or Industries Or Whatever make the best steel ever. I think it’s made with some secret magical ingredient or blend or something. I guess it’s basically the steel version of luon, the supposedly secret special spandex blend that Lululemon uses in most of their clothing.

Anyway, having the super best steel that makes the best railway supplies (I’m just going with “supplies” because I don’t remember if they made tracks or trains or both and I really don’t care) makes them major players, because the railway is pretty much the most important form of transportation in the world. So yeah. Ayn Rand was such a fucking visionary that she couldn’t imagine a future in which the railway would not be the world’s predominant form of transportation.

And the government is very mean and evil. They’re making everyone do socialism to each other, which is, obviously, encouraging mediocrity. And this is having a terrible impact on Taggart Stuff, but I don’t really remember why. Maybe they’re trying to outlaw the magic steel ingredient because it’s not fair that the other steel companies don’t have it. Or maybe they’re trying to make them pay their factory workers more than a dollar an hour. Whatever the case, socialism is destroying the world and making Dagny sad.

I bet socialism made her wear this ugly hat, too!

Also, everyone is running around and saying “Who is John Galt?” which, if I recall correctly, is some sort of combination of “whatever,” “What can you do?” and “Who gives a shit?” Because this is obviously a catchphrase that would catch on. People would totally use “Who is John Galt?” as an expression of futility, apathy and socialism-encouraged mediocrity. Among other things, Ayn Rand is an expert on the development of catchphrases.

So the oppressive government makes things continually worse. Some trains crash or something. People commit socialist atrocities for hundreds of pages. Somewhere in all of this, we find out that John Galt is a real dude and not just a catchphrase. He was a totally awesome industrialist visionary moneymaker, but the horrible socialist government wouldn’t let him be great (like Kanye). So he abandoned the world. And apparently this was a big deal, even though his disappearance has lead to little more than a shitty catchphrase.

John Galt meets Dagny somehow. He does not rape her, because he’s kind of a pussy compared to Howard Roark, but, somehow, she manages to respect him, anyway. He takes her to the secret mountain compound that he established when he left the world behind, because this is an Ayn Rand book, and her solution to EVERYTHING is to run away and live in the mountains. Same shit goes down in Anthem. And I think it happens in some of her other stories as well.

In the mountain compound, Dagny meets a bunch of leaders of men. Then we reach one of the few moments in the book that I remember with any clarity: Dagny sees a woman and asks what she does. Galt tells her that the woman is a writer. Dagny wants to know if she’s ever heard of anything she’s written. And John Galt is all “She writes in her head.”

What. The. Fuck? She writes in her head? I think the logic in the book is that the stupid leeches and mediocre socialists of the world aren’t good enough for her writing, so she keeps it to herself. And everyone thinks that’s cool, because she’s a leader of men.

If some struggling artist protester did that, objectivists would lose their shit. But when Ayn Rand’s precious Mary Sue does it in Atlas Shrugged, it’s totally fucking awesome. So basically, fuck the working class who are toiling away in your factories, WORKING, to build things and carry out your super-important libertarian ideas while you pay them nothing. But yay people who write in their heads and do absolutely NOTHING.

Anyway, Dagny comes back for some reason or other (Rand needed to further the plot) and things get even more covered in socialist germs. Mediocrity is everywhere! Shit is falling apart! It gets so bad that John Galt is forced to take over the radio waves (again, Rand proves herself a visionary, completely nailing modern technology) to deliver a speech. It lasts for NINETY PAGES. And he basically spends the whole speech saying that he rules and socialism drools. I don’t remember any of the details. It’s really fucking obnoxious and self-aggrandizing and basically like reading an interview with an even more humourless Bono for NINETY PAGES.

Shit falls apart some more, and Dagny finally escapes to the mountains for good, leaving her trusty manservant to die. And he’s totally cool with that. This dude has followed her through most of the book, taken care of all of her shit, worked his ass off with no complaints and been the most loyal employee in the history of the world. But he wasn’t a rich visionary, so he wasn’t allowed to go the mountains. And, once again, he’s cool with this. He dedicates his whole life to Taggart Assholes, works harder than anyone else in the book — especially that incorrigible cunt who writes books in her head — but he has to die because he’s not a rich visionary. He’s the portrait of everything that rich people wish that those wretched poor would be and it’s still not fucking good enough! He has to die! AND HE’S COOL WITH IT.

Because nothing makes objectivists harder than the idea that the poors and the working class will wake up one day and realize that they don’t deserve to live and just off themselves. It would solve all of the world’s problems! A bee colony with no worker bees! What could go wrong?!

I don’t really remember what happens after that. I’m assuming that all of the poors and socialists are suffocated by mediocrity and then the awesome rich people descend from the mountains to rebuild the world. Or maybe they stay there and the awful poors continue to lurch around and they start saying “Who were all of those fucking assholes?” instead of just “Who is John Galt?” I’m sure the ending is stupid, whatever it is.

Wait, I just googled “Atlas Shrugged last line” and this is what I found:

He raised his hand and over the desolate earth he traced in space the sign of the dollar.

That’s just amazing. And it just goes to prove how fucking right Ayn Rand was about how useless liberal pieces of shit like me really are. Because there is absolutely nothing I could possibly write to parody her that would even come close to that line.

I hate you so much! I wish you'd get poor, go on Medicare and die. OH WAIT, YOU ALREADY DID.

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Guy Fawkes vs. Louis Riel: Who’s The Better Rebel Icon?

Guy Fawkes vs. Louis Riel

Guy Fawkes vs. Louis Riel

Both of them were tried for treason and sentenced to hang, and both of them are now considered rebel icons of a sort, but really, who does it better? Louis Riel, the spiritual leader of the Metis people, or Guy Fawkes, whose plot to kill King James I of England has been iconized and commodified for the modern era.

Screw You To The Government
Riel: Was elected to Canada’s House Of Commons on three separate occasions, though he never assumed his seat for fear of assassination.
Fawkes: Plotted to blow up the British House Of Lords and assassinate King James I.
Verdict: Blowing up a building’s pretty coarse and obvious, but not being able to show up for work because someone’s gonna shoot you in the head? That’s being a rebel.
Point Riel.

Video Games
Riel: Somebody took the time to make this.
Fawkes: There’s a character named “Fawkes” in the post-apocalyptic shooter, Fallout 3.
Verdict: Clearly gamer nerds are more engaged by Fawkes than Riel.
Point Fawkes.

Chester Brown's Louis Riel

Chester Brown's Louis Riel

Graphic Novel
Riel: Chester Brown’s Louis Riel.
Fawkes: Alan Moore and David Lloyd’s V For Vendetta.
Verdict: Moore’s work is the better known, better crafted treatise on rebellion, but Brown’s captures all the complex realities of Riel’s life.
Tie.

Badass Death
Riel: When he was hanged it took four minutes before he slowly and painfully choked to death.
Fawkes: To avoid being drawn and quartered while alive, he jumped from the scaffold from which he was to be hanged, breaking his neck.
Verdict: One’s first instinct is to give it to Fawkes for the drama and beating the system, if only a little. But going out in the most ugly, painful way makes the best act of defiancance.
Point Riel.

Music
Riel: Thee Headcoats and Grand Archives have recorded songs about Riel, but the Canadian Opera Company also have a popular opera about the Metis leader.
Fawkes: John Lennon references Guy Fawkes Night on the song “Remember” from the John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band album.
Verdict: In the cosmic scheme of things, there’s no scenario where the Canadian Opera Company will ever be more counter-culture than Lennon.
Point Fawkes.

Religious Conviction
Riel: Thought he was creating a new Christian order.
Fawkes: Was a really, really passionate Roman Catholic.
Verdict: Both felt the God in them pretty strongly, but for sheer loopy-ness, Riel’s new Christian order takes it.
Point Riel.

Movie
Riel: There was a CBC-sponsored made-for-TV movie back in 1979.
Fawkes: V For Vendetta made $132 million worldwide, starred Natalie Portman and has been adopted by libertarians and anarchists alike.
Verdict: Until Brad Pitt does a starring turn as Riel this one remains a lock for Fawkes.
Point Fawkes.

Moustache
Riel: A jailer cut off Riel’s ‘stache prior to his execution, some of the clippings of which are now in the St. Boniface Historical Museum.
Fawkes: Those hacker kids in Anonymous think Fawkes’ moustache makes for perfect desktop wallpaper.
Verdict: There can be no winner in the battle of iconic soup-strainers.
Tie.

Official Celebratory Day
Riel: Saskatoon, Saskatchewan used to hold an annual Louis Riel Day, complete with tug-of-war and cabbage roll eating contests. The city stopped celebrating it in the ’90s.
Fawkes: Guy Fawkes Night, also known as Bonfire Night, happens Nov. 5 in Britain and is basically built on the premise of children burning effigies of Fawkes.
Verdict: Cabbage roll eating vs. sinister indoctrination of children under the guise of playing with fire? Hmmm.
Point Fawkes.

Symbol Of Rebellion
Riel: The Metis Sash. Generally red, and worn around the waist, it symbolizes that, yes, since a Supreme Court Of Canada ruling affirming it in 2003, Metis’ have the awesome protected Aboriginal right to hunt for food, regardless of season or licence.
Fawkes: The Guy Fawkes Mask. Adopted by G20 protesters, Occupy Wall Streeters, and computer hacking activists, the moustache mask popularized in V For Vendetta is now the brand of counter-culture.
Verdict: Until Metis sashes become as commodified on Amazon as Fawkes masks, this one’s locked in for the Brit.
Point Fawkes.

RESULT
And your better rebel icon is… Guy Fawkes. Congratulations. Now go burn or blow up something.

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The Murga Dancers Of Carnival, Caprichosos De San Telmo

Caprichosos De San Telmo

Of the five music-related documentaries that I saw at the Toronto International Film Festival this year, four were about internationally famous pop and rock artists, and the other was about a group of working class musicians who live on the fringes of society in Buenos Aires and perform a style of African-influenced song and dance known as Murga.

This might sound like a particularly easy game of One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other, but the film, Caprichosos De San Telmo, really isn’t so far removed from its more famous and mainstream counterparts. The group, also known as Caprichosos De San Telmo, might face a different cultural and financial reality than U2, Paul McCartney and Neil Young, but their musical experiences — the sacrifices they make for their craft, the creative process, and the pure joy and beauty of expression — are remarkably similar.

I had a chance to talk to director Alison Murray about the film, the band and the politics of Murga dancing during the festival. Here are some of the highlights:

How did you first discover Caprichosos De San Telmo?

About two and a half years ago, I was walking around in the neighbourhood of San Telmo, pushing my daughter in her stroller, she must have been six months at the time. I was trying to get her to stop crying, and I heard this drumming. I started walking towards the drumming and, as the drumming got louder, she fell asleep. I thought “OK, this works,”  so I kept going until I found the source of the noise, and I saw this Murga rehearsing in the park. I was just fascinated by the rhythms and the dancing, but particularly the dancing, because I have a long relationship with dance and filming dance. It just seemed so obviously African, and yet there were no African faces in the group. That led me to explore the history of Africans in Buenos Aires and I learned that there had been a huge African population that’s now pretty much gone.

Did you know almost immediately that you wanted to make a film about them, or did the idea grow on you over time?

I thought that it would be a good subject and then I think I mentioned it to my producer, Kathleen Smith, who I work with a lot and she said I should do it. It was long after that that I just took my camera and started shooting kind of randomly, not really knowing if it was going to lead anywhere or not. And once I started, it kind of gained momentum and I realized that it was going to be a project worth completing.

Were the members of the group reticent when you first started showing up with your camera?

Not at all. They loved it. In particular, some of them were real kind of clowns who jumped in front of the camera every chance they could. And that’s my experience with documentary making, at least for me. I made a film about carnival workers in the U.S. and also about people hopping freight trains and often people really like to be filmed. If you’re respectful and you’re not making a spectacle of them and it’s not kind of a reality TV treatment, then I think people feel validated by having someone who’s interested in their lives and it makes them feel good.

Did you know anything about the Murga before you discovered Caprichosos?

No. I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know the origins. Nothing. I just encountered them. I went to Buenos Aires because I was interested in tango, and I didn’t realize there were other dances that were part of the culture of the city as well, like Murga.

Pop culture seems to have some influence on the group, at least in terms of the way that its members decorate their costumes with famous logos and characters. Is it also an influence on the music and the dance?

That’s an interesting question. That’s a kind of controversial question, in a way. Some of them have Bart Simpson or The Rolling Stones tongue on their costume, but other people have Che Guevara, which is very political. So there is a little bit of interchange with pop culture in that respect. But in terms of the dance,  somebody said to me once, “Oh yeah, but those movements that those guys are doing, that’s from hip-hop, that’s not Murga.”

Well,  hip hop-has African routes as well as Murga has African roots. You can say that’s not traditional Murga, but it’s coming from the same source, so I think it’s all valid. Amongst some of the dancers, there was some contention over whether something from hip-hop fit into their vocabulary. You could see movements in hip-hop and other movements in Murga that probably have both come from African dance somewhere along the lines, but the Murga dancers didn’t learn those moves from watching MTV, they learned them because they’ve always been in the Murga vocabulary.

Do you think that the Murga is a malleable art form?

Yes. Definitely. You can see different communities and different neighbourhoods have a distinct style in each area, but that’s starting to change a little bit now. Pichi, the leader of the group that I filmed was a little bit disparaging of that because he said that… it’s a double-edged sword. There’s a little more support for Murga in terms of them getting grants and things, but that means that there’s people who are learning Murga and then going into another community and teaching it, like teaching it in a community college. That’s a new thing that’s just started. Pichi doesn’t like that because he thinks each Murga should develop its own style within the neighbourhood,  and if people start traveling around the city,  taking different styles in different places,  then those styles are going to get all mixed up and watered down. I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing, but he’s a little uncomfortable about that idea.

I loved Pichi’s story in the film. He’s almost like KISS or Cher, in the way that he keeps threatening to retire from music.  Is he still with the group?

Oh yeah. I don’t think he’s ever going to stop, and this film is just kind of given him more passion to keep on going.

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Does U2 Still Matter?

U2

U2

A couple months ago the band U2 came to Toronto and were going on about their slide into irrelevance. Bono talked about it happening, but we were wondering if it was mathematically true. So Aaron went and polled 50 of his music industry acquaintances and asked them, “Are U2 still musically relevant?” And if they answered no, then he asked them what album it was that made them decide to no longer follow.

The results of said poll can be read, complete with a vibrant series of arguments in the comments section, over at Maclean’s by clicking here.

In the meantime, Aaron would like to thank the following people:

Eric Alper
Amanda Ash
Dave Azzolini
Jon Bartlett
Simon Becker-Sadava
Richard Beland
Stuart Berman
Dave Bidini
Matt Blair
Tim Bolen
Linda Bush
Jessica Capobianco
Joel Carriere
Elizabeth Chorney-Booth
Liam Cormier
Jonathan Dekel
Mary Dickie
PJ Dunphy
Ed The Sock
Phil Gohier
Tommy Gough
Rob Higgins
Dylan Hudecki
Joanne Huffa
Luke Jackson
Danko Jones
Paul Kehayas
Ken Kelley
Phil Klygo
Sarah Kurchak
Grant Lawrence
Chris Levoir
Noah Love
Erik Missio
Muneshine
Brent Oliver
Joshua Ostroff
Adrian Popovich
Sean K. Robb
Chris Rolfe
George Stroumboulopoulos
Barry Taylor
James Tennant
Trevor Tuminski
Arnold Van Lambalgen
Andrew Vincent
Darryl Webster
Natalia Yanchak
Jen Zoratti

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10 Things I Hate About Zombies

The Walking Dead

The Walking Dead

Last week, I noticed that The Walking Dead had been added to Netflix Canada.

“Oh,” I thought, not the least bit excited. “I guess I should watch that.”

I’m usually all over fancy pants cable and premium TV shows. I’’m willing to watch almost anything that HBO, Showtime or AMC puts out, provided that it’s not called Entourage. HBO has seduced me with the wild west, vampires, Dust Bowl circus freak saviors who fight evil preachers, and prison spoon rape. Showtime has convinced me to laugh at cancer, and to care about a serial killer a lot longer than I really should have. I tried to resist AMC’s offerings at first, but I’ve been their bitch since Betty Draper shot the pigeons.

But I was  looking forward to watching The Walking Dead the way that I look forward to scrubbing the toilet. I probably wouldn’t enjoy it, but it was a chore that needed to be done.

Here, the empty road represents my interest in the show.

We’re three episodes into the show now, and I’m not really sure what its purpose is. There are zombies, and a rag tag group of survivors. Guys beat the shit out of zombies (and each other) while women stand in the background and scream. A lot. There’s usually a bad monologue of some sort thrown in. And then there are more copious beatings with womenfolk in the background. There’s no greater purpose so far. The writers know how to provide viewers with zombie gore, but that’s about the extent of their talents. It’s like they’re constantly missing the point.

Imagine if Deadwood had been written by people who thought that the show was solely about Ian McShane saying the f word. That’s about the level that The Walking Dead is working on.

And yet it’s not the quality of the show that’s troubling me. I can watch the hell out of a shitty show like 24, or Lost. What really bothers me about The Walking Dead is, well, the walking dead themselves. I am just so over zombies.

It wasn’t always this way. I must have been cool with zombies at some point. I like The Zombies. I like “Thriller.” I dug that Cranberries song when I was 12, even though I thought she was actually singing “Tommy” for a few months.

I appreciated the Night Of The Living Dead when I was a teenager. I’m still a big fan of the opening scene and often think of Barbara’s jackass brother biting it when I run through cemeteries, content that I would be able to outrun a traditional zombie if it ever came to that. And I admire the crisp and unapologetic nihilism of the ending.

As an old school David Cronenberg devotee, I’m also pretty partial to Shivers. But I don’t even know if his crazed sex zombies count as actual zombies, anyway, because everything that Cronenberg did before the turn of the century was in its own world and so much more awesome than the rest of pop culture.

This is how sex zombies are made.

28 Days Later was cool enough. I laughed at Shaun Of The Dead. I even went to see Juan Of The Dead, a Cuban zombie comedy, at TIFF this year. It had its moments, although watching the young PR interns try to figure out the communism jokes was funnier.

But I just can’t deal with this shit anymore. I am so over zombies, and here are 10 reasons why:

1. They’re ugly.

And yet I'm completely cool with this.

This is a dumb and superficial reason, I know. It doesn’t even make sense, given that Slobulus is my third favourite MadBall, but I have a visceral reaction to melting flesh that drapes off of a skull. Or at least a skull that is not ball-shaped. In the abstract, I admire what people can do with makeup and prosthetics, but actually looking at those accomplishments makes me want to vomit.

And what is with their posture? Am I really supposed to believe that some sort of magic or scientific experiment gone wrong is capable of reanimating every single part of the body except the erector spinae muscles? That’s absurd.

Stand up straight, young dead man!

2. They’re annoying.

Sometimes, when I’m watching a zombie movie, I just want to tell the zombies to shut up. If I wanted to watch two hours of pointless, unintelligible droning, I’d go to a Coldplay concert.

Sadly, Coldplay's quest for brains remained unfulfilled, because no one who has any would attend one of their shows.

3. They’re eerily reminiscent of past trauma.

If I wanted to be surrounded by a terrifying horde of mindless monsters hellbent of my annihilation, I’d go back to high school.

4. They’re not glamourous in any way.

In other words, zombies don't do this.

I’m sick of vampires, too, but at least I get that obsession. Vampires are sexy and dangerous, when they’re not written by Stephenie Meyer. They play on our Freudian fixation with death. Zombies seem to speak to some bizarre survivalist fantasy that I have never experienced in any way.

5. They’re unbearably tired as a counterculture icon

Look at all these special snowflakes.

Oh, you’re having a zombie walk? I’m sorry, I can’t make it. I just zombie walked this morning, and I’ve got another one scheduled for tomorrow.

Wake me up when someone organizes a Bene Gesserit walk.

The flash mob must flow.

By the way, adding zombies to any work of fiction does not immediately make you a creative genius.

6. Zombie ______  costumes are just the nerdy kid’s answer to Sexy ______ costumes.

At least there’s still a tiniest bit of potential in ironic sexy costumes (like Sexy Oil Spill, or Sexy Steve Jobs) but if you’re dressing up as Zombie Anything, you are an unimaginative ass.

Speaking of which….

7. The zombie mythology is not conducive to a whole lot of creativity.

There’s a zombie outbreak! A rag tag group of people who would otherwise never associate with each other are going to have to learn how to cooperate and survive! And maybe find some sort of promised land! Which leads me to….

8. Zombie stories remind me of Ayn Rand stories.

On a whim, I did a google image search for "Ayn Rand zombie." This is what I got.

Let’s go live in the mountains, far away from the horrible leeches who are trying to feed off of us!

9. Survival in a zombie apocalypse isn’t really that appealing.

If I woke up tomorrow to discover that zombies had destroyed everyone and everything I knew and loved, and that my only option for survival was to join a rag tag group of people who would otherwise never associate with each other, like I was joining the worst season of The Real World ever, I would probably be all “So… there’s no Chipotle anymore? Fuck this, I’m going to let the zombies eat me.”

"Seriously, God. No more burrito bowls."

10. Why do we always assume that they have no internal life?

Has anyone ever tried to meet the zombies halfway? Are we really just concluding that they’re brain-dead because they’re nonverbal? Maybe they don’t know that it’s not nice to try to eat us and they just need it to be explained to them in terms they understand. And maybe they’re only fighting back because we’re trying to shoot all of them in the head.

You know who else doesn’t know how to talk and wants to eat me?

My cat.

And we’ve managed to develop a mutually beneficial relationship, so I don’t understand why we shouldn’t try harder with zombies.

You know, upon further reflection, my real issue might be with people.

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