Surviving In A Post-'Zombie Apocalypse' World

A lot has been discussed on surviving the forthcoming Zombie Apocalypse. But let's face it, very few people will live. You and I are statistically far more likely to join the ranks of the undead than to find ourselves holed-up in a barricaded Walmart somewhere.

So, let's look at it from there.

Survival for a zombie is no picnic either. Consider other zombies: What was once a threat to your life is now competition for an ever dwindling food supply! To succeed in the ambling afterlife, one needs a plan. Therefore, I'm putting together a little kit for when the inevitable veil of walking death does start slip over me.

The average zombie is one of thousands, possibly millions.

How does one survive among so many and where everything else is faster and smarter than you? Planning ahead, that's how!

Think of an average zombie as a "standard package." That's swell, but for an edge, we wanna go with options!

1. Let's Talk Footwear!

Zombies spend a lot of time on their feet. A shoe with some arch-support might be able to provide a quicker, smoother gait for our future selves on the other side of the curtain of life. (I recommend some nice P.F. Flyers!)

Also, once I join the legions of the living dead, that quieter sole means I might be able to surprise some tasty morsel unawares!

2. The Best Defense!

Everybody knows you can only kill a zombie by destroying the brain. As an animated, cannibalistic corpse, a nice kevlar military helmet might just give me the edge when some human remnant with a Remington is defending his family in a clock tower. Just the type of common sense a zombie would use... if it could think.

3. A Good Offense!

Y'know, in every zombie movie that I have ever seen, someone gets grabbed by the walking dead, yet manages to pull away. The hands just simply aren't lethal enough.

So, to extend my grip and punch up the lethality of my future, undead grab, my kit will include a knife-tipped "Nightmare on Elm Street"-style of glove for my left hand that could turn the "one that got away" into "one that got only-a-little-bit away!"

Those unfortunate souls should still be pretty warm by the time I sit down to snack on them!

And finally...

4. What the heck? Hedge the bets!

Someone might believe it.

I mean, there may very well be some people so desperate and alone that they may actually believe I am faking my condition of zombism, and welcome me with open arms. By the time they can see that I am actually deceased, they should be well within my bite range and I feed again.

So, there you go. Oh, sure, I will try to stay alive as long as possible, just like everyone else, but if I get bitten, or injured and I feel myself starting to fade, I am slipping on my gear. If I am destined to be a flesh-eating ghoul, I will be the best damned flesh-eating ghoul that I can be!

Deep woods, Maine.

So, August, 2011, in Poland Maine, the Missus and I rent a cabin on a lake for a week of secluded "getaway" vacation-time.

Yeah, okay. A week is a long time with just two people. "Invite some friends!" she suggests. Great idea.

So, I do. Some of my oldest and dearest friends are in the area from Ohio. "Come stay with us for a coupla' days." I suggest. They are all for it.

My friend, Ron, originally from Baltimore, is now living in central Ohio. His girlfriend, Joyce, is from around my parts and the three of us have known each other since we in high school. With his two boys, aged 13 and 14, both raised their whole lives in Ohio, they visit for a coupla' days out in the deep Maine wildness, full of wildlife, nature, and other foreign stuff to the average Midwest teen.

Well, one of those nights, the older of the two boys, was out fishing on the dock, (the cabin we rented had its own dock on a small, quiet lake in Poland, Maine.) While we were indoors, playing a game or some such malarky, He burst into the cabin: "I'm not going out there alone again!" he declared, quite frightfully!

He went on, "There was these two Loch Ness Monster-looking things appeared up out of the water and started howling like wolves!"

I began laughing. My other house guests looked at me, surprised. I broke out my iPod and pulled up a photo: "Did this thing look like this?" I asked. And when he responded that it did, I explained that it was simply a loon.

Yup. A Loon. The howling waterfowl of the Northwest.

I showed the photo to the boy's father, who was quick to rephrase the entire situation. "You got punked down by a Duck!!! A DUCK!!!"

Throughout the evening, out on the lake, the laughter continued with every howl of the loon.

Ahh, City kids. How can you not just get a kick outta them!?!

Chris

Yet Even MORE Photoshop: Featuring ME!!

Oh, it's true that I don't do much during my summer vacation. But every now and again, I get a "creative urge" to do SOMETHING, and PhotoShop is my usual outlet.

Here now is my latest batch of crimes against good taste, courtesy of Photoshop.

Oh, Baby, Baby...

Okay, in fairness, with this one, I actually set out to make something more creepy than that hot dog one from my previous posting... I think I came pretty close with this.

Chris van Gogh

This was an attempt to elicit a reaction from a classically-trained artist friend of mine. But, it was to no avail. She no longer replies to anything I say or do. (I must've REALLY pissed her off! Go figure.)

FLASH!!!

I was feeling kind of heroic one day, so I decided to hijack a Flash Gordon still. But, instead of looking all brave 'n' shit, I decided to make myself look as scared as possible of whatever was off camera. I think it adds a little depth of character.

In any case, big gun, eh?

I Am Your Sunshine...

Inspired by a nice New England heat wave, (and way too many people bitching about how hot it is!!!)

The NEW Cousin Oliver!

I really just wanted in on this. I may even try to blend it into my "Artificial Memories" collection.

That's it for now, I mean, I DO have a friggin' life, y'know!

Chris

The Best Defense...

"Defensive Driving” is fine and dandy for some, but if you live in a higher population density area,

like I do, you get a lot more total a-holes on the road, and frankly, defensive driving and polite roadway etiquette is not always possible, (Mother Theresa would be flipping someone the bird if she drove through my old neighborhood!)

So, it just makes sense that SOME ‘reactions’ should be permitted by law. Not ‘Road Rage’ incidents, just simple causality.

Here now, is my list of SUGGESTED responses to assorted traffic infractions.

Y'know, thinking it through, if everybody responded to bad-driving scenarios like this, incidents of such poor road practices would probably decrease, thereby making a safer driving experience for us, and our children.

And don't the children deserve it?

Sponsored by the Chris Toler for President Campaign

Photo Safari: St. Patrick's Day

The fourth installment of my Photo Safari Series finds me in Boston on St. Patrick's Day, if only for a coupla' hours.

Right off that bat, it needs to be said that I, too, was out there.

AND I was dressed in green, AND I wore my Irish Tri-Color Converse All Stars.

Everyone out there, in their over the top green attire was there to celebrate and have fun.

There. Now may I PLEASE begin mocking!?! Thank you.

We began our St. Paddy's Day Safari in the Quincy Market/Faneuil Hall area of Boston with original hopes of tossing a few coin over the bar at The Black Rose pub. These hopes were choked-out with the reality that The Black Rose was charging the stupidly exploitive price of $30.00 for a cover charge! Yeah! That's just to get in!

Feck that!

And there, like a big, beaming, green & white beacon in the darkness of our rejection; an angel of hope In the foreground...

And like a starter pistol, The Safari was on!

If Dark Colors Are Slenderizing...

...than the opposite is easy enough to prove, right?

Quick! Try to see where the pasty, pale-white legs end and the tights of the same color begin!

That tiny, little hat doesn't help the look, either.

Hey! We Got Green Beer in Here!

Yup. Drunk guys trying to pick up chicks from the back of rented stretch limo Hummers with promises of alcohol isn't limited to Ft. Lauderdale!

I wish him all the luck in the world!

Get Yer Green Shit Here!

Respect!

As I was exploiting the revelers with my camera, so was this "businessman" looking to turn a profit. He looked about as Irish as Tony Soprano, but hey! A job's a job.

I'd tip my big, green, floppy, stupid-looking, cat-in-the-hat hat to you, sir, if I had one.

How much?

Generic Punters

Speaking of floppy hats...

We find an oasis in the form of a $5.00-cover-charge-bar to wet our parched whistles. This was just a random selection of patrons and their headwear.

Chicks Dig Guys in Kilts

Outside, music was starting, and Boston Firefighters Pipe and Drum were, uh, "warming up."

The Green Derby Crowd Loves Us!

In the midst of Quincy Market and a throng of mass-produced, party-store novelty chapeaus, another band was in full swing.

Also among this band's audience was a real, live leprechaun, some chick in bright green stockings checking me out as I took her picture, and the bedazzling new technicolor uniform of

the Salvation Army's Special Forces.

And this year's Winner of the Brightest Shoes in the World award...

Cheers!

Decisions, Decisions...

Even MORE Photoshop: Featuring ME!!

With little to no gumption, (that's right! I said the word "gumption,") to write anything new, with no new entries into The Technophobes Illustrated Dictionary, no new collection of "Random Thoughts" ready to go, and no new "Decisions, Decisions" to make, I decided to get my lazy on and give a second, (maybe third,) shot at visibility to a few old PhotoShop pieces once again.

Originally appearing in the blog posting, "Island of the Damned" I decided to share the news of my love affair with Miss Ginger Grant to the world with this one.

Keep yer Mary Ann! I like 'em a just little whorier...

Always On My Mind... And, uh, Arm

Used as a pop-up illustration for a cocktail, (named The Ginger Grant,) in my OTHER blog, Greatest Drink in The World... This Week.

Hey, nice guns!

Don't call me Honky!

Me when I was the original Tom Willis from television's The Jeffersons.

Possible candidate for the next installment of my "Artificial Memories" collection.

The Nutty Irishman

Another pop-up illustration from my drinks blog. This one an illustration from the Home-Made Liqueurs series.

Lucky, Me Arse!

My response to an only-somewhat-justified stereotyping comment from last March's Luck of the Irish.

Again, probably made when hungry.

That's it for now. I've got some time that needs killin'...

Identity Crisis

What the hell is this?

Now I am an "Ophiuchus?" Yeah, THAT really rolls off the tongue.

So apparently, there is a brand new Zodiac sign. And unlike those folks that got shifted to a neighboring sign, (and, I guess, a whole new horoscope!) I get saddled with this new one.

True, I am not sure if the whole Sagittarius thing was working for me, anyways. The horoscopes were turning out to be straight-up bulljack as far as I was concerned, and had me condemning the whole theory of "star-signs" as utter malarkey.

Now, I am not so sure.

Moreover, I don't know if I WILL be sure until I know the attributes of this new Ophiuchy-thingy.

Are my fellow "Serpent-bearers" and I supposedly skeptical? If so, maybe I am right in condemning this stuff. But if we are supposed to be more open-minded, (or gullible,) well, perhaps I will have to reconsider this zodiac stuff!

But what about all those years of being LIED to about being a Sagittarius? Is "indignant" among my new attributes as a "Serpentarius?" Maybe I have the tendency to become violent at the clusterfuck of misinformation that was fed to me for so long! Perhaps we Ophiuchans are tireless in our pursuit of justice and litigious in said pursuit!

Oh heads will roll.

Maybe.

Just wait 'til I find out how I am gonna react. Some potentially serious shit might possibly hit a fan.

Just like that time when I lost my mood ring, I don't know how I feel about this.

Crosby's Journal

Crosby’s Journal: January 13, 2011

It would appear that table scraps, AKA “people food,” might be a bit more difficult to acquire with my new family.

The woman seems to be weakening,

succumbing to the power of

“the eyes,” but the big, bald one, the man, he seems to be immune to it.

Today he actually ate a meat sandwich in

front of me. A soulful, longing glance and a forced tummy rumbling only got me a sincere word about my safety should I attempt to take some. I believe this to be true.

At one point, he dropped a piece of what I can only assume was salami or some type of pimento loaf.

I was certain that once it hit the floor, it was “dog’s domain.”

However, it never hit the floor. Like a giant, bald mongoose, the man grabbed the errant meat in mid-air and returned it to his sandwich.

I should have guessed from looking at him that this man never let any piece of his meal escape him.

The woman is my only chance.

C

Crosby's Journal

Crosby's Journal: January 2, 2010

In an effort for better understanding, the man has endeavored to teach me some of his language.

So far, I am able to understand the words "sit," "come," "paw," and "down" in their native tongue.

In exchange, I am teaching my new humans some key words in MY language. As of this writing, I am consistently able to express the phrases "I need to go peeps," and "I need to go doosies," (very similar to the untrained eye/ear, but they appear to grasp the hidden nuances.)

I am confident that we will have meaningful conversations within the month.

This said, the phrase, "Can I have a bite of that sandwich?" seems to be a difficult one for the Man to grasp.

My lessons continue.

C