Zombie is a social virus that accumulates with age. They see the suffering but they don't. It's the warped tour of duality. I'm immune. Lucky me. I am the child self with the adult brain, my duality is love and logic, not indifference and self delusion. So I witness and suffer from the witnessing, from the feeling of everyone's pain. At times I hide because it all hurts so very much. There are more the same as me... more that are immune... that have true psychological maturity regardless of biological age. It is a blessing and so very scary. We look out onto the world and see these people who are all fair-weather friends and fair-weather good citizens... for they buckle under the slightest pressure and become mean, self centred and cold of heart. The starving of the world mean nothing to them, nor the enslaved, the tortured and brutalised. Yet to become this way, a zombie, is to become a bastard, without a Father God, soon bereft of a Mother Earth. They may not fully realise what they do and why, but they have been given a moral code from the heavens in so many ways to so many cultures, and so they are culpable regardless. Perhaps some are more forgivable than others, yet that is a matter for heaven, for God. I am thankful for this immunity, as in time I pray the others will be also, for immortality is a thing we earn with courage. We are the fighters of evil. We are the hope and the chance for answered prayers. If there were better than us, they'd be here. So. Are you ready to take a chance on the only ones who are willing and able to take a stand?
Reason died so long ago that most are zombie to some degree or other, all seeking "brains to consume" - hence social media. The hordes are whores for ideas and have no capacity to make sense of them. They will support nonsense with as much force as sense. They will ask for explanations they have no capacity to comprehend... and then blame you, ridicule you, set others against you... unless you become the horde master. It's a long shot, but you are actually their only hope. Will you come in? Will you put your fucking suit on or not? We're waiting.
Portia wasn't your average zombie. She had a special door in her own skull that she'd open each day, then she'd take an ice-cream scoop and bring out a pink "melon-ball." Then she'd sprinkle in some sugar, close the hatch and fry up the brains with a few pinto beans and a sauce. The next day her brain had regenerated enough for her to do this all over again. It was so disgusting and so very interesting that we made it a staple party trick every Halloween.
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