HURRAY! The rabid zombie-obsessed community has taken to the streets with public zombie art.

I suppose it was inevitable, as most of us humans generally get stuck on ever-anxious fantasies of death & questions of the afterlife. Modern zombism possibly seems like an ugly god fearing christian wet dream for those left behind…or maybe a purgatory (what with the catholic guilt involved with eating your family and friends).

Therefore, the constant obsession over dealing with “real live” zombies has pushed some of us have taken to stencils & wheat paste. Graffiti aka public art is hittin’ yo’ hood, block, street, gated community or whateva. Keep up the good work, deviant artists!

Whether a result of radiation, rage virus or Haitian voodoo, one aspect I adore about the impending zombie invasion is the situational madlib of humor & horror that occurs when soulless monsters take the place of “normal” humans doing “normal” human activities.

For example, a clown at an outdoor birthday party seem like a childhood cliché. Cake & balloon animals. Presents with bows and colorful streamers. But when Z-Day hits, this typical suburban scene turns into an absurd and terrifying display. Cannibal children pass over chocolate ice cream for the neighbor’s Scottish terrier. A decaying grease-painted clown greedily chews at spleen of the a parent slumped over the charcoal grill. No one’s even touching the cake!

Post-invasion, traditional culture and practice are immediately subverted, while our bodies continue wearing a costume of “normal” humanity.

Smaller confines result in an even faster spreading of zombism. As a survivor, there are few places to hide and remain protected. Rural areas work until the zombie hordes see your fire, hear your generator running or simply catch a whiff of your delicious brain. Eventually they will get though the fence, window, basement, back door or just pile on top of each other like a cannibal cheerleader pyramid until they reach you in the attic. Your house is not made of reinforced concrete, so the big bad zombie wolves will find a weak point and break through.

Your best bet remains in big box stores like Target or Walmart, since they can be locked securely and tend to have a sizable stock of preservative-heavy snack foods that won’t spoil for a couple of decades. After all of the sodas, twinkles and candy bars, you may develop diabetes but you yourself will not yet be zombie food.

Ideally, you want to find a prison for it’s maximum security locks, bulk food storage and acceptable cooking/living quarters, which leads me to the irony of the prison yard. Because of the close confines, prisons are highly susceptible to mass zombie infestation. One sickly guard is all it takes. So how do you clean out thousands of shoulder-to-shoulder zombie inmates? Who knows. What if the jail is free of the undead? Now, in order to get to the most secure safe house, you have to break in and coexist with the prisoners still locked inside.

Remember, there is no safe place after the zombie apocalypse. There will never again be a safe place.

“They’re coming for you, Barbara!” – NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD