Start Attacking the Zombie Lord and the Minions Will Fall. Right?

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In December, a certain retired doctor (no free advertising here) made many visits to The Unnecesarean for the first time. The comment storm that ensued completely saved the web site ranking for the month, since I took what was more or less an unplanned blog vacation in late December.

The exchanges on several threads were fairly predictable from start to finish. The comments from the doctor were formulaic and contrived, sandwiching a point between layers of using “natural childbirth advocate” repeatedly as a pejorative and straw man. I really wanted to know if our visitor had anything unique to say amid her insults, campy overargument, a few compliments and occasional glimpses of sincerity. Eventually it just became too exhausting to try to distinguish the woman from the angry online doctor character.

Part of the show is derailing a comment thread with over-the-top, irrelevant accusations and ad hominems full of absolute statements and holes that will compel people to question or refute. The argument begins and somehow it all gets turned around to the point that she accuses everyone who disagrees with her of being an irresponsible baby killer. Victory is declared by taking the rhetorical moral high road as the official rescuer of babies from a negative fate at the hands of anyone who refuses to acknowledge that obstetricians are motivated purely by altruism.

At one point, I wrote “I can see that it’s hard for you to see this as one woman’s blog instead of part of a huge zombie army of people that want you to give birth in a bathtub.” But like in The Matrix Reloaded, there are hundreds or perhaps thousands of Agent Smiths who need to be battled at all hours of the day and night.

A friend sent me a link this morning to one of the best parodies ever. The bonus? Zombie-allegory goodness. There are a few references that I guess I would have to be a regular reader to understand, but the final paragraphs (below) say it all.

…I could see what was happening.  These men and women were worse than incompetent: they were zombies themselves!  Highly functioning zombies, sure, but zombies nonetheless.  They were obviously the zombie overlords, and here they were, plotting a zombie takeover, thinking no one was going to stop them.  They hadn’t counted on Dr. Shaggylocks. This would be an easy moral victory.

With his head face down on the table, I had an easy shot at the Zombie Lord’s cerebellum, and with one swift blow I smashed in the back of his head with the blunt chair leg.  “No! Our Zombie Lord!” shouted the minions.  I backed into a corner as the undead Social Service workers shuffled toward me with outstretched arms.  Their eyes were crazed, but their reflexes were slow.  I mowed them down one by one with my makeshift weapon.

“The Doctor is in!” I muttered to no one in particular, “Zombies are out!”  I liked that. This will be my new zombie-fighting catchphrase, I thought.

When the mayor found out that I had singlehandedly uncovered and foiled an evil zombie plot to take over the world, he threw a big parade in my honor and gave me the key to the city.  He asked the papers not to report on it, though, since he didn’t want other zombies to read the paper and get any ideas.  That’s why you won’t find any articles about it on LexisNexis.

And that, my friends, is how I used the potent combination of extreme moral outrage and my infallible expert medical opinion to win an easy moral victory and become a hero.


Although, now that I think about it, this was funnier.

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