No one knows why we have been so suddenly thrust into a world knit from nightmare, but as your grandmother’s dentures lodged bicuspid-deep in your Louisville Slugger testifies: the zombie apocalypse is upon us.
It’s uncertain why Z-Day stuck on that fateful day in late March. Some blame the Venusian orbiter that reentered our atmosphere, metal and glass sopping with fell atomic resonance; Some point half-chewed knuckles at the chemicals and elements leached into our landfills after decades of poorly-disposed-of consumer electronics waste.
Others speak of a sorcerous lunatic cabal, enslaving the population with white stela in pocket-sized effigy, inscribed with the runic twin annuli emblematic of their music-woven moon cult. First those under their sway thought different; then they were different.
From Gizmodo (the gadget blog):
While it’s too late to assemble a proper bug-out bag, we hope for the sake of your easily-pierced flesh that you’ve already bugged–you’re still going to need to grab a few supplies if you want to survive this god-forsaken apocalypse. And what’s the easiest way to get what you need? Cutting right to it.
Some would suggest the ubiquitous chainsaw—we like the Stihl MS460 Rescue Saw with handy gore-proof muffler shield—and those are certainly going to be easier to find. But if fortune smiles, liberate yourself the Stihl HT 100 Pole Pruner. Its nearly six-foot reach keeps the gnashing teeth of the walking dead away from your person, a welcome trade-off for its relatively short blade length. (And we prefer the HT 100 over the HT 101, as the 101’s telescoping pole makes it less structurally suitable for bludgeoning.)
We also get this from Life (now Death) Hacker:
If you’ve never fired a pistol before, you might be surprised how difficult it is to get a headshot with one. The skull is a small target, sporadically bobbing upon the jerky torso of a reanimated corpse. Even for expert marksmen, a head shot is rare — this is real life, not Counter-Strike. On the other hand, where as rusty chainsaws strapped to your hand have an undeniable post-apocalyptic je ne sais quoi, it is probably unwise to get in close contact with a zombie until you’re a more experienced zombie hunter.
So how to combine the practical with the bitchingly cool? Why not try the trusty staple of all Deathhackers: the cobalt-blue sawed-off shotgun loaded with Polymag titanium pellet shells? Effective, with a wide spread, you can maintain medium distance from your target while still being guaranteed a satisfying skull pop of festering brains.
Finally, The (Flesh) Consumerist has the latest on compound survival:
The same communities that once passed zoning regulations and fought tooth and nail against the threat of a Big Box being deposited in their neighborhood a now turning to Wal-Mart as their last refuge from the gruesome bloodbaths being unleashed in their own backyards.
“Once you’re actually inside, it’s not so bad,” commented one Wichita Falls native, firmly entrenched in his Wal-Mart fortress “When the security shutters are down, the sturdy concrete design makes the place virtually unassailable by the flesh-eating undead. There’s plenty of canned goods, a great selection of periodicals, a fully-stocked phamacy, a wide-selection of televisions and radios to use to catch emergency broacasts or just to while away the pointless monotony of a post-apocalyptic life playing the Gamecube. Heck, there’s even a gun department!”
It appears as though this might be the apocalypse, but at least these brave souls at Gawker are continuing to provide helpful advice to those of us still unaffected by the virus.