Zombie Marches
So I haven't been writing on LJ, other than Twitter blasts, which are like watching the scrambled porn of KZ's life. And I was trying to figure a way to get my writing juices flowing again.
Then I noticed something: When online chatting or text messaging about an issue that really irritates me, I can't get the words out fast enough and usually end up hurting someone's feelings.
Suddenly, the answer hit me: Tell your journal. It could make me feel better. At the very least, I might entertain friends with my rants about the things I hate. And the list is endless.
Without further delay, I give you "Zombie Marches."
From London to Austin, Texas, people took to the streets Saturday in marches directed toward Iran's oppressive regime. I was proud of my friends who participated and reminded of how much I love organization and mobilization.
Then came messages from friends in Chicago, where an altogether different march was taking place.
The Thriller zombie march was a flash mob of sorts. Thousands dressed as zombies walked the streets of Chicago as a wagon blasting Michael Jackson's hit rolled in their midst.
Why?
I didn't hear of any of these friends marching against the wars. They weren't marching for the environment, health care reform, economic aid, gun rights, abortion rights or anything of consequence. They never have. It was just for fun.
Fun. I'm sick of the word. But let's assume fun is a worthy cause. Why zombies?
Because zombies are the new pirates. Pirates were the new monkeys. Remember when everything was "talk like a pirate," "dress like a pirate," "yar har, yo ho"? And before that came "evil monkey," "the monkeys told me to do it" etc.
The situation and passing trends remind me of my student council days. When planning dress-up theme days, we knew something difficult (astronaut, medieval court, animals) wouldn't have many participants. But simple things (dress backward, Greek day, '80s day) drew bigger participation.
See, zombie's easy to do. You just shred some clothes and paint up. It's been around long enough that the mainstream kinda thinks it's cool, so you don't get too much crap from squares on the street. And there's no such thing as a good-looking zombie, so you can stay casual and sloppy.
The striking part, and here's where I'm going to take a leap, is that the people playing zombies
are zombies. They're joining brainless, stumbling masses in something pointless and destructive.
"But KZ," you say, "you go to moped rallies. You ride as a collective, pollute the air and accomplish nothing."
I'd argue that we present a counter-culture that prizes and restores machines thrown away and ridiculed by the masses. We find something beautiful in people and objects that don't fit the mold of attractiveness. And we have talent. Fixing a moped takes skill and knowledge. Putting fake blood on your face doesn't.
So if you must attend a zombie march, please wear your best suit or gown, arrive well-groomed and gorgeous and walk among the uglies. Who knows, maybe the sick bite of style and class will spread.
Current Mood: 
disappointed 
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