The Environmental Protection Agency, though currently cock-blocked by the Trump administration from issuing much communiques with mass media anymore, has evidently approved the manufacture and cultivation of lab-grown, bacteria-infested insects for the express purpose of wiping out mosquitoes. The nuisances of course being well-documented carriers of everything from the Black Death to the Zika virus to chronic skin failure.
In a society where free speech only applies to food labeling and where junk science is the only science allowed a heyday, we should take note of such GMO bugs as a potential starting point for a zombie apocalypse, a subject I have approached in the past. We do mold this reality around us after all, like it or not, and everything comes from somewhere. Except for love.
Elsewhen on the zombie front, researchers are claiming that the dead minds of drug addicts can crave the stimuli for days after their departure. Which adds to my theory of a direct correlation between DMT and the Pineal gland. Scientists are still largely in the dark about what exactly the Pineal gland exists for, other than that it biochemically produces DMT molecules, although curiously only on the occasions of birth, sexual climax, REM cycles involving lucid dreaming, and near-death experiences. If anything, this could well be the organic source behind religious fervor.
I have long maintained that near-death experiences (as well as alien abduction recollections) are in actuality the earliest memories of physical birth. The light at the end of the tunnel, the appearance into a strange, ascetic environment with benevolent strangers beaming down on you, etc, remains a shared entry point into consciousness for virtually every first-world citizen today. The first waking experience. Applied to zombie fictions (which conveniently serve as metaphor for a great many different things), lore dictates that the undead hunger for human meat in general, but brains in particular, and I imagine the DMT release especially. The sex-death-rebirth cycle is where the archetypes of our most primordial memories stem from, and that faint recognition is what the undead pursue, like a drug addiction.
In turn, decapitation or a shot to the head is regarded as the singular method for stopping an undead person dead, as the specified violence destroys whatever remains of their own Pineal gland. Total obliteration, as with fire or drone strikes, is perhaps casting one’s net too wide. But I’d even go further and suggest that suicides mindful of this are alone in breaking the chains of reincarnation. Because with no afterlife we have no options but to return to our scene of the crime, one way or your mother.
None of which is crazy enough to be compatible with the perverse rationality of a society where refusing to possess a cancer-causing cellphone results in shunning, ridicule and stigmatization, and where possession of even minor quantities of cancer-curing marijuana is met with incarceration. By contrast, life and death themselves are mutually nonsensical under modern standards. Baby booms and mass murder with no third alternatives to be found listed anywhere in the directions.