Through the Looking Glass: 5. ZPC Call for Universal Protection

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

5. ZPC Call for Universal Protection

Society in general will jump to protect species that score high in factors of cuteness and majesty. Seal pups and polar bears, pandas and bald eagles have a wealth of support from people who have never even seen them. If, however, you are a Hart's - tongue fern or a slime mold known as Diacheopsis metallica there is nothing that even the strongest, most well funded lobby group could help you with. An 'ugly' label is trouble indeed, no matter how largely the risk of extinction might loom.

In recent history a new group has fallen into such a situation. By simply following their instinctual need for sustinance they are mercilesly terminated. Clubs, axes, firearms and all manner of weapons are used without thought or conscience. Bloody remains litter the natural habitat of this species. Populations are dropping dramatically and the extinction of the species is assured if nothing is done to curb this bloodlust.

To avoid that end we have formed what will henceforth be known as the Zombie Protection Coalition. (ZPC)

These less than attractive life forms appear to have a great deal of difficulty with simple mobility which may, in turn, contribute to them being such an easy target for violence. Media research has shown termination rates as high as one per minute on any given Zombie series. The large screen has shown us several thousand eliminated in any ninety minute segment.

We of the ZPC believe this rate of slaughter cannot be maintained without this species becoming extinct in the very near future. To combat this unthinkable trend we propose to introduce the following initiatives:

1. Place all members of the species under the protection of the Endangered Species Act.

2. Establish feeding stations away from major human populations to reduce the slaughter.

3. Engage semantic scientists to decipher language and physiotherapists to increase mobility.

4. Open behavioral therapy treatment for those who have difficulty adjusting due to the

genocide of the past.

In pursuing this noble undertaking I would invite any and all to contribute to the cause... even a single loonie could help shift the balance. Your gifts will be grateful accepted at

loonietic@ZombieProtectionCoalition.ca

Thank you

Ryan Lengsfeld, ZPC Chairman

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Introduction

Having moved at least twenty-five times in fifteen years has opened a world of learning to me. In six decades, an education ranging from the coldness of large cities to the isolation of remote rural locations to the busybody gossip of small towns and the wonder of the prairie and it's ocean of grass have all left their impressions on me.

Recently I relocated to a small city in British Columbia. It touted itself as a historical, cultural, educational and, over-all wonderful, place to live. Once I was past the trees and the rocks, the heights and the hills, the water and the wind, I calmed down and was ready to look at the people I was sharing that space with.

Every location I have ever squatted has had it's share of characters. Players in the cities along with the wide range of tinfoil hat wearers and baggy pants skaters were a given. Pop up strangers at odd hours surprised me with their appearance in the middle of nowhere. Rumours of my serial killer past from neighbours I had never met never swayed me. The wonder of gazing on the effects of wind on the grass ocean interrupted by a landowner enquiring why I was leaning on his fence was oft forgiven.

In this new locale a variety of characters as I had experienced elsewhere was a given. The density and variety of them however gave me more surprise than I would have expected.

I had heard comments about this place being a time warp to the sixties. However I only saw few that , by their appearance, I could say lived through the sixties. What apparitions appeared were younger and more colourful than I remember from that vague decade.

Purple haired strong armed accordionists, heavy head shaved violinists clutching tiny instruments, winter coated scarf wrapped individuals in shorts and oddly calm people with large coffees wandered the streets.

They wandered in and out of new age crystal shops, expressed opinions on local radio, bought nothing but organic food. They played jazz on squeeze boxes, made strings and wood sing in ways not intended, talked to themselves as they tightened their scarves and became more serene with each sip of coffee.

Characters here are more concentrated than in any other locale I have ever lived. It is a point of interest as well as point of concern.

It remains to be seen whether I will be mugged with organic carrots, side swiped by hooligan mountain bikers, be harangued with advice on dressing warmly or kept awake nights by jazzy sounds from an errant squeeze box. Whatever the outcome I am certain I could find it in no other place on earth to explore these particular uncertainties.

Until I am transplanted again, I extend every new-ager and boarder, every subculture economist and spiritualist, every would-be and wanna-be my deep thanks for extending me the opportunity of educating myself one measure more.