The Blaſphemous Bicycler

A fellow can scarce read a newspaper lately without being reminded of the imminent collapse of the petroleum economy.

It seems obvious that we will soon be building nuclear power plants at a frantic pace, which (I predict) will forestall the total collapse of civilization by about 15 minutes.

In light of these pressing matters, people are asking themselves all sorts of questions.

1. “How much oil is there in ANWR?”
2. “What is the half-life of Plutonium 239?”
3. “How many cans of beans will it take to get through the winter?”

These are all perfectly good questions, but I think the question we all really need to be asking ourselves is:

“Can Zombies Ride Bicycles?”

If not, the masses can expect to flee from zombie-infested areas on bicycles.

If, on the other hand, zombies can ride bicycles (perhaps recumbent trikes or some such), then escape will be much more difficult, and you may expect to see widespread hand-to-hand combat (or bike jousting) between humans and zombies.

In either event, any reasonable person can agree that there can be no chance of survival without an adequate supply of bicycle helmets, as either eventuality carries great risk of brain trauma, either my pavement impact or by undead mastication.

I know many of you are hoarding rice and ammunition, and some are even starting their own vegetable gardens to try to survive the coming apocalypse.

All the rice and vegetables in the world won’t help you if your brain is splattered on the asphalt, or rotting in the innards of a putrid zombie.

_{Image shamelessly stolen from Post Carbon Comics}

Unless you think the Bicycle Zombie Slayer is going to come to your rescue, stock up on bicycle helmets — before it’s too late!

Freddie and Mikey and Fred
Were all snuggled up in their beds
but that little Tommy
turned into a zombie
and ate the brains out of their heads!

It was pretty hot outside today, so I just stayed inside in the air conditioning, watching zombie movies until after dark.

After it cooled off, I took the Trek out for a ride. I have been riding the new Karate Monkey so much lately, the Trek was feeling neglected and the Nanoraptors don’t really care for the pavement anyway.

So, I’m cruising along a country road, watching the fireflies flicker across the corn fields, and generally having a lovely time. A moment later, the headlights of an overtaking car reveals three pairs of eyeballs in the roadway 50 yards in front of me.

The car passes me, and in a few moments, I see two pairs of eyeballs blinking in sync with my LED.

I flick on my “to see by” light, and behold a fearsome visage.

The two pairs of eyeballs belong to a pair of skunks, now about 10 yards off my front wheel.

A bad encounter with a skunk would definitely ruin my day, so I stop the bike and ponder my next move.

They don’t seem to care much about me, because in the middle of the road, sits the headless remains of a baby skunk. The other two are just sort of staring at their dead baby, seemingly not knowing what to do.

Now I don’t know what to do, because I don’t want to ride through freshly-dead skunk guts, nor do I want to get sprayed by the mourning parents.

I stand there for a minute or so, until another passing car chases the mourners off the roadway. Then, I ride on, trying my best to avoid getting any stink on me.

I thought I was successful, but now that I’m home, showered, and sat next to the bike, I can definitely tell that I’ve drug stinky skunk funk into the house.

My cats seem to find the aroma very interesting, my girlfriend… not so much.

Today: 16 miles
July: 70 miles
2007: 679 miles

“Father, give me the Bull of Heaven,
so he can kill Gilgamesh in his dwelling.
If you do not give me the Bull of Heaven,
I will knock down the Gates of the Netherworld,
I will smash the door posts, and leave the doors flat down,
and will let the dead go up to eat the living!
And the dead will outnumber the living!”

– Ishtar to Anu, Epic of Gilgamesh

In the movies, zombie go around moaning that they want to eat your brains. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and I’m 99% convinced that real-life zombies would not posses the language skills necessary to ask for their preferred food by name.

_{Zombies are nonverbal}

Actually, I very much doubt that brain tissue is any more nutritious than muscle, skin, or subcutaneous fat. Besides, brains are much harder to get at, being encased in a bony skull.

In summary, zombies do not eat brains, and even if they did, they couldn’t say so.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled bicycle blog.

A quick search through realtor.com turns up this little gem.

_{Clcik for the ad}

A desanctified church in the thriving metropolis of Middleburg, PA for sale as a “single family home.” It could be all mine for the princely sum of $45,000.00.

I wonder if it comes with a graveyard… I’ve always wanted to learn necromancy and raise an army of undead zombies to do my evil bidding….

Update: 03-13-2007:

We called the realtor and are having a look at the church Saturday! mwawahahahah!