I finally watched The Walking Dead. Yes, I live under a rock. It is a dry, dusty, desert rock that may or may not have been peed on by a lizard. My Main Man (M3) watched the seasons available on Netflix (because cable doesn’t exist out here and who wants satellite anyway?) and finally I was sick and tired enough to give it a go.
First, I am a biologist at heart and by degree. Reanimated flesh is just silly and so totally unlikely to happen. The body dies, it starts to break down on the cellular level. Without the cells whole, there is nothing to reanimate. The point is, I have trouble believing in zombies and without belief, how can I take them serious?
OK, so yes, football comes into to this in a moment. I’m not into football either.
For those who haven’t seen the show, it’s mostly based in Georgia. For our main characters, shit starts going down in Atlanta and spreads outward from there. At first, folks think it is like a bad, bad flu and that the government will get a handle on it, shelters will be put in place, vaccines and medical care dispensed, and in 6 months (tops) life will be back to normal. So a lot of folks chose to band together with their campers and RVs and basically have a very extended campout. The women do the cooking and the cleaning, the men do the patrols and peeing on trees to mark their territory.
Yep. For the first 2 seasons, the women are all but useless in this new, zombie infested world. There is one female character who starts learning to use firearms in Season 2, but mostly the women are like a commodity to be protected and shuffled around. The men go on and on about how to deploy their manpower, like the women can’t learn to use firearms, bows, or even pointy sticks (zombies aren’t particularly hard to kill once you are committed). Just a note, come Season 3 all the characters, male & female, young & old, are badass at dispensing zombie execution. And, yes, it is awesome and I am now addicted to the show, eagerly awaiting the next installment in Netflix.
So I was complaining to my man about this particular aspect of the series (because I was hooked on it for all the drama, especially concerning how kids grow up in this new world) and I had to back up a bit. I’ve grown up rural, not in a big city. I have one pair of heels and the rest (all 5 pairs) are books or sneakers. I know how to use firearms and break down and clean the ones I own. I know how to butcher a goat from live to freezer. Our home is heated with fireplaces. You get the idea.
But what if I hadn’t grown up with most of these skills (I added some later in life). What if I suddenly found myself in a very foreign lifestyle? Hence, The Football Apocalypse! I imagine locker rooms full of jocks and cheerleaders, millions of fans, and mascots. Angry coaches and the beer wenches. I don’t watch football, not too sure about the rules, etc. M3 does watch football and likes the rules.
So I asked him, ‘If there was a sudden and irrevocable Football Apocalypse, where every surviving person had to be attached to the game in some manner, do you think I would survive?’
M3 isn’t stupid. He thought long and hard before he replied. ‘No.’ He’s not a man of many words.
‘What if I was a water bearer? I could carry water to coaches and players. I wouldn’t run across the field or anything stupid like that.’
I sighed heavily. M3 is a thoughtful guy. He doesn’t tell me I can’t do something without having his reasons. He knows me and the snarky mouth I have in reserve for sporting events. He was probably picturing me ripping the head off a mascot and slamming it into some athletic player, spilling his/her beer (yes, in my Football Apocalypse women will be playing the field), and ensuing chaos would swamp over me, ending in broken bones and tears.
He patted my back and said, ‘I’ll get you some pompoms.’