Why did the zombie apply for a job? Because he wanted to "dead"icate himself to a new career! What's a zombie's favorite shampoo? Head and Shoulders! How do zombies listen to music? With their "de-composing" ears! Why don't zombies eat fast food? Because they can't catch it! What did the zombie say after he was dumped? "You left a piece of my heart behind."
I offer sincere apologies to my very few readers for the quality of the jokes in the previous paragraph. In my defense, I must admit that all of them were entirely taken from the internet. It's not that I'm capable of telling better zombie jokes—or any other jokes for that matter. Nevertheless, I'd like to point out to the few followers of this column, in the unlikely event that they continue reading these lines, that the underlying theme behind my terrible comedic skills, the crux of the matter, is probably one of the most serious and significant topics that should never be taken lightly. We are talking, dear hunters, about humor.
Just a week ago, in the previous installment, we discussed one of the characteristic traits of zombies: their fury, the violence with which they react, a product of their extreme aversion to error and differences in thinking. This time, it may seem that we are taking a somersault leap into a radically different topic: humor. But please, stay with me, dear reader, and you will see that there's no such leap in the order of our ideas.
Let's retrace our steps. 21st-century zombies are allergic to error. They detest being wrong, they hate defeat, and when cornered, they bite. Their bite comes in the form of furious insults, mockery, and disparagement. But don't be confused, vibrant reader; rest assured that this fury is a façade, a curtain that conceals a deep inferiority complex and a fear of humiliation, as if making a mistake were a sign of ignorance, idiocy, or malevolence. The living among us know that it's not the case; we acknowledge that error is the inevitable chaperone of life's adventure and, in any case, we must learn to live with our mistakes.
The unfortunate zombies, however, perform acrobatics between the fear of being wrong, the fury it provokes, and back to the fear of error. In this movement, they are much like their fictional counterparts who stagger from side to side.
Let's recap what we've learned so far: the zombie infection in the real-life apocalypse has spread through the transmission of zombie ideas: lifeless ideas that devour people's brains. One of the infection's characteristics, perhaps the first of them, is that zombies lose the capacity for self-awareness. They cannot reflect or delve into the depths of their own consciousness. In other words, they don't know their own condition and believe everything is just as it should be. Paradoxically, the inability to reflect, to delve deep, implies that those affected can only subsist on the surface of themselves, splashing around in themselves, unable to go further or deeper. They represent a terrible tragedy: being unable to know themselves, while simultaneously being unable to think about anything other than themselves.
Hence comes the previously mentioned inferiority complex, the terror that their mistakes will be exposed, and the inability to admit to an error. And hence their fury, their bite, their disdain, and sarcasm.
The shallowness we mentioned is often demonstrated in the seriousness with which zombies talk about themselves. They take themselves far too seriously because they believe the world revolves around them. They are so important (or so they think) that others must show them respect. They conduct themselves with solemnity and swell with pride when they are treated with deference, given special consideration, or "given their place." They are the kind of individuals who "do not tolerate irreverence and foolishness," who call others "insolent" when they "dare" to inconvenience them. They are so important that they don't have time for such mundane matters as play and laughter. They are so serious, so important, so grand that (as we saw coming) they lack a sense of humor.
Amos Oz, an author who must be read and reread today more than ever, says it better than I do: "Having a sense of humor means being able to laugh at oneself." Zombies, inhabiting only the surface and never delving into the depths, are especially vulnerable to the opinions of others. In their fragility, they cannot accept, under any circumstances, direct or indirect insinuations that lead to laughter because, for them, it constitutes a personal affront. They confuse good humor and laughter with ridicule or frivolity. But the ability to laugh at oneself requires— as Oz teaches—an active imagination, which many recognize today by the name of empathy. It's nothing more than imagining oneself in the other person's shoes. When this ability is developed, it dispels the fatalistic nature of error because it builds a bridge to others, allowing one to look at oneself from the other person's perspective, revealing one's own vulnerability, flaws, mistakes, and defeats and prompting laughter.
The time has come, dear readers, for self-examination: How do you rate your sense of humor? How often do you indulge in a well-deserved laugh with friends? Do you play regularly? Do you engage in sports? Do you have fun? Be aware, entertaining yourself is not the same as having fun! (We'll discuss that later). How many selfies do you take in a day? A piece of advice from this seasoned zombie hunter: don't take yourself too seriously, don't take things to heart, and laugh (laugh, not mock!) until your stomach hurts.
We continue with our mission, one zombie at a time.
How's everything going so far?
Man, you're killing it! Keep going! 👍
Dude, don't change careers just yet, keep you day job 👎
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