Darwinism is Dead: Or Why I Would Not Survive The Zombie Apocalypse

I’m going to go ahead and make a bold statement:

Darwinism is dead.

How do I know this?  Because I am still alive after almost 30 years. I am walking, talking, breathing proof that natural selection is a fading, historical relic in the modern, 1st World.

I do dumb things all the time to prove that natural selection is not really a factor in my sphere of operation; if it was, I should have been picked off long before now. Case in point, this recent situation (which I posted to Facebook):

No. Words.

No. Words.

Clearly this was a joke. But shortly after sharing, I noticed a friend’s call for people to submit themselves as characters in something he’s writing by describing the role they would play in a Zombie Apocalypse. And I was watching an episode of The Bachelor that involved a zombie themed paintball adventure. * So I thought about it for a second; reflected upon the evening’s events and a history of behaviors/choices that one could label as anything from ridiculous to unnecessarily dangerous; and one thought popped into my mind: I would be DEAD.

I mean – I’ve seen The Walking Dead. And – while it’s not the Zombie Apocalypse – I’ve read THE ROAD. I am confident that I would not survive beyond the first month. Possibly not past the first week if I hadn’t gone grocery shopping and if there were issues with the water in my apartment. Because HELL TO THE NAAAAWWW would I be walking out of The Apartments of Eternal Christmas to go in search of things at the bodega around the corner. I would be a hunker-and-wait-to-be-rescued type. Which would most like evolve into a hunker-and-wait-for-death type.  AND on the off-chance that a well-meaning survivor were to find me, what skills could I provide to a group?

  • Defense?  Nope. Weaponry terrifies me.
  • Hunting? Nope. Again, weaponry terrifies me. And I’m a vegetarian for reasons relating to the killing aspect of consuming meat.
  • Growing food, then?  Nope. I have a black thumb. While I’m anti-killing things, I kill cacti and succulents on the regular.
  • Practical survival skills? Nope. I have no knowledge of how to wire electricity, dig for wells, build a shelter, start broken-down cars, track things in the wild, sanitize water, or tie intricate knots.

Also – my body’s natural response to scary situations?  To pass out.  Normal confrontations of life, I’m cool with. I can get through those. But if I become overwhelmed by even the thought of being in an escalated confrontational situation – emotionally or physically – my body is like: “Hey cupcake! Imma make this real easy for you. We’re just going to stop working and we’re going to avoid this mess altogether! And if things get really bad, we won’t even know because we won’t be conscious! Are you near soft ground? Nope? OH WELL! HERE WE GO!!!”

No fight. No flight. Just lay down and play dead.

The few things I’d have going for me?  I take direction well; I am typically a quick learner; I work well with animals and children and have a driver’s license (#specialskills); and I am told that I tend to provide a positive element to a group dynamic. Plus I’ve seen The Walking Dead and have read THE ROAD. All suuuuuuuuuper useful in a Zombie Apocalypse.

Read as:  I would probably be the first to be eaten by the group when it got to that point or eventually be used as zombie bait.

Fabian, on the other hand, would be just fine, I’m sure.

And these, my friends, are some of the deep thoughts that occasionally plague my mind. You’re welcome. #fauxdulthood

* A long time ago, I was in an acting class with one of the contestants on this season and have watched the first two episodes. #thesearemyconfessions

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