By Jack Edwards
I have the same question about Obamacare as everyone else. The same overarching question that is (no GOP pun intended) the elephant in the room. The question that the Obama Administration has thus far refused to answer. That question, of course, is whether Obamacare will cover the preexisting condition of being a zombie. As a result, pollsters have reported record numbers of the Undead defecting to the Tea Party.
People don’t ask to become zombies. They don’t aspire to become zombies. One day you die (perhaps because the DEATH PANEL wants to save a few bucks to pay for its annual “working” retreat to San Tropez), and then next day some voodoo doctor digs you up and all of a sudden you’re the newest member of the Undead. The UNINSURED Undead. It’s bad enough that zombies don’t get any of the cool starring roles in Hollywood films (unlike those stuck-up vampires). No. They have to stumble about aimlessly with their flesh falling off. Their UNINSURED flesh falling off!
I called Richard Schenkman, the director of the direct-to-video masterpiece Abraham Lincoln vs. Zombies, and asked him why zombies have historically faced such blatant discrimination. Adeptly utilizing the Socratic method of answering a question with a question, Mr. Schenkman responded, and I quote: “How the hell did you get my number?” (Yet another Hollywood A-lister, refusing to share his craft.)
Fully one-third of Americans believe zombies exist. My source? Because one-third of Americans believe that the moon is made out of cheese and that Charleston Heston really was Moses.
If you want to learn about zombies, you need to visit the website ZomBeeWatch.org. (This is a REAL website. I am not making this up.) But, disappointingly, ZomBeeWatch.org is not actually about human zombies, it is about bee zombies, or “ZomBees”. Apparently all of our honey bees are slowly turning into ZomBees. You can read all about it at ZomBeeWatch. It tells you how you can help look for ZomBees. It even has a map that shows you where all the ZomBees live. Here’s a hint, if you want to avoid ZomBees, consider moving to Montana, Nebraska or New Mexico. ZomBees may not be cool like vampire bees, but they like to hang on the west coast, waiting tables and hoping for their big break.
I thought everyone already knew that there were zombie bees. They’re called wasps. Wasps are the serial killers of the insect world. I know, because I’m surprised I’m alive today. When I was twelve (this is a true but embarrassing story), I was walking through a field and saw a wasp nest the size of the Hindenburg hanging from an apple tree branch. Having logged my share of hours staring at Warner Bros. cartoons, I was familiar with the caricature of bees zipping from the nest, hovering into military formation and then shooting toward their victim at lighting velocity. But I was 12 after all, and like all other cartoon theatrics, such as the Roadrunner racing up a sheer vertical wall or Popeye punching Bluto into the next time zone, I figured the bee thing was just more cartoon jocularity. So I did what any 12 year old boy would do. I picked up a fallen apple and threw a “fastball” straight at the center of the nest. I was thrilled with the direct hit. Until the Warner Bros. cartoon came flooding out of the hive. All one million painful parts of it. Let’s just say, I was no Roadrunner.
So, as I said, I always knew ZomBees existed. I just didn’t know that they were uninsured.
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