Shall I compare the Obama administration to a Zombie Apocalypse? The comparison is a bit too restrained and understated perhaps, but that’s only in keeping with my cool, not to say austere, personality and writing style.
Otherwise, I think it’s entirely fair to equate the current exponential growth of extra-legal czars, bureaucrats, debt, mandates and money-transfers and the concomitant pandemic of dependents and dependent-wannabes with a sudden invasion of soulless armies of the slavering undead intent on devouring our flesh and brains.
So. What to do.
Well, you’ve seen the movies, right? A small band of heroic and sometimes not-that-heroic survivors — let’s call them Conservatives — make their ways singly or in pairs to a secluded house or other shelter — let’s call it the Constitution — and settle in for a night of horror battling the trudging, muttering hordes as they try to break through the doors, windows and walls to consume as much human substance as they can get their hideous hands on.
Inevitably, however, the zombie attack turns out to be the least of the troubles on offer. Because the Conservatives — I mean survivors — can’t defend the Constitution — I mean, house — unless they can first learn to work together and fight as one. If they happened to be military people or people otherwise bred to obedience, there would be no problem. Their leader, whoever he was, would make a plan, give the orders, and the fight would begin. But it’s in the nature of a zombie movie that the Conservatives — I mean, survivors — are just a random group of individuals. Each was busy trying to live out his own life, fulfill his own goals and follow his own dreams, when the Obama administration — I mean Zombie Apocalypse — occurred.
So even as the drooling, hunger-driven creatures hammer at the boarded windows, grunting, “Pay for my contraception!” or “Do an environmental study!” or “Pay yourrrr fairrrrr sharrrre!” the Conservatives — I mean, survivors — defending the Constitution — I mean, house — have to decide who is going to lead them, which person is wisest, which plan is best. Should they go into the basement, which is easier to defend but impossible to escape from, or cluster in the living room, which has windows on all sides but leaves them the basement as a last ditch option? Should they listen to the Businessman, who has the experience of leadership but is too slick to trust? Or should they follow the Preacher, who has some good ideas but is operating under the delusion that this is all some sort of Biblical judgement? Or what about the Professor, who seems smarter than any of them but is known to be an all-around son-of-a-bitch?
One thing of course is certain. If the survivors don’t stop fighting among themselves at some point and turn to face the real enemy, the Zobambies are going to tear the joint to shreds.
Gee, it’s kind of like an allegory or something, isn’t it? And while maybe it doesn’t provide a definitive answer, properly understood, it might generate a couple of suggestions.
For instance, while it’s proper for the survivors to discuss their various options, they should be careful not to injure one another, since all hands will be needed for the final confrontation.
Second, while you may disagree with the leader finally selected, there is no opting out of the fight, since your flesh is just as edible as the flesh of the guy next to you. “I didn’t vote for him so I’m not working with him,” is a prescription for certain death.
Thirdly, since the object of the moment is not to transform the earth into a flowering paradise but to make it through the night without getting eaten alive, perfection, whether in leadership or strategy, is not to the point. There’s a time to talk and a time, as it were, to lock and load. Allegorically speaking.
And finally… oh, let’s face it, Mitt Romney’s going to win the nomination and whatever else you may think about the guy, he’s not a zombie.
At least, I don’t think he is.