Ongoing Thermostat War

Another sweltering day in a gray-and-pink, seventy-five degree hell. My only thoughts are of turning down the thermostat. Every time I begin to develop a thought, the heat prickle on my forehead tells me it’s time to attack the thermostat again.

Even worse, the dolt in the cubicle next to me keeps muttering lyrics to some song with a “Boom-chakalaka” refrain. Quite often these days the dead look like appealing alternatives to the living.

Room with a View

The view from my office window. Enjoy.

Persecution and Fear

After my recent gentle reminder to some readers that insensitive comments can lead to a tolerance for persecution of the Tzombi, I heard from one of my Wiccan readers, who commented:

We see the same unacceptable thing happening with Wicca, a movement that has started to gain more mainstream acceptance. Don’t forget the persecution of witches in the past!

This is, sadly, quite true. At my last place of academic employment, I had a (formerly Wiccan) friend who insisted on identifying herself as a “non-affiliated neo-pagan practitioner” – a term that was a reaction to negative associations with Wiccans. Sure, this is supposed to be a free country, founded on religious tolerance. But as always, the gap between good intentions and the reality of complex social structures (i.e. human failings) is vast.

The persecution of witches arises, as all persecution does, out of fear. The modern western world does not have a female aspect, other than the Virgin Mary, whose power lies primarily in being a vessel. This at least partially accounts for the demonization of female power, particularly female sexual power (Mary was a virgin, after all). Other world cultures, however, have embraced the feminine to varying degrees. My favorite example is the Hermaphrodite God Adistis, who was born when Zeus impregnated a rock. Eventually Dionysus got Agdistis drunk and tied its male genitals to a tree, whereupon he startled Agdistis and Agdistis accidentally castrated himself. When the blood fell on the ground, an almond tree sprang up. Agdistis became the goddess Cybele, whose festival involved her priests whipping themselves with knuckle bones and castrating themselves in a frenzy.

We shall hear more about Cybele in a later post.

But I digress. I was attempting to draw a parallel between the persecution of witches and the persecution of the Tzombi. Perhaps it seems initially outrageous to imply to imply that the Tzombi have the greater challenge, but on closer inspection it seems less so: while women were simply marginalized in Christianity, death was conquered. The ultimate deed of Jesus Christ was not to conquer evil or Satan, but to conquer death. Consequently, we have a severe prejudice against death and the dead which doesn’t exist in many other cultures. One need only look at the use of the word “Death” in the English language: “I was scared to death,” “She looked like death warmed over,” etc., where death is universally regarded as a negative. Compare this to cultures in China for example, or the pre-Hispanic Philippines, in which ancestor worship was practiced to have our fear of death thrown into stark relief.

As someone who has experienced death close up, I know that it can often be kinder than life, and that the sudden, unexpected death which we all fear is far less traumatic than one in which a person wastes away gradually.

A further kindness of the sudden, traumatic death is that this is the sort which, according to research, “activates” PMMS (note: this idea is controversial in many circles). For the Tzombi at least, this sort of death is the beginning of their new life as fully realized members of the Tzombi race.

Thermostat Wars

In my last post, I was attempting to prove that philosophical zombies do exist -- an impossible task, but I might point to the example of a coworker whom I shall call J. Every day, without fail, she insists the temperature in the office remain at a sweltering seventy-five degrees. When she is not looking I turn the communal thermostat back down to an ideal sixty-eight degrees but it is seldom long before she catches on and turns the temperature back up again. Her behavior is representative of that of a psychological zombie, for whom material comfort is everything. I need not add examples of numerous and regular cigarette and coffee breaks. Her lack of affect when I confront her is alarming.

An informal survey of my coworkers has affirmed that sixty-eight degrees is the preferred temperature, but J. is such a domineering personality, and my coworkers are such mindless drones -- further example that such a “zombified” state exists -- that my attempts to create a petition have been failures.

Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to continue. Da Corella was able to record his observations of zombie civilization while in the sweltering heat of Kongo; I shall be able to record mine while baking in a cubicle.

I shall overcome J. with sheer persistence.

The Zombie Conundrum

After re-reading my last post, I was reminded of the Zombie Conundrum, which refers to the philosophical construct of a zombie: a person who has no interior life to speak of, but who behaves in exactly the same way the rest of us do. Assuming this individual was able to mimic human behavior in a convincing way, even, perhaps, to the point of saying things like “I feel sad” when s/he in fact has no capacity to “feel” “sad,” it would be impossible to determine whether or not this individual was, in fact, a psychological zombie, or whether s/he actually “felt” these “feelings”.

There are the people you see who “cheerfully” go about their workdays, engaging in “witty” “banter,” and “worrying” about how they’re going to have a little “fun” after “work.” They go out for “happy” hour, or they go home to their “lonely” apartments, “enjoy” their dinners and go to “sleep” to have “dreams” of perfectly banal topics.

Sounds a lot like us, until you compare this to the responses of an interview subject -- let’s call her “Mathilde” -- who, while not of the Tzombi race, demonstrated many of the traits of the Tzombi psyche:

…but I feel invincible. My flesh is rotting, I know it. I have no organs. I am obsessed with my own skeleton and the knowledge that it is stepping out of my skin, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. This is the part of me that is eternal, and I feel an invincibility knowing that it is going to be released. Life is the shroud and Death the unveiling. I find myself drawn to decay, and rot. I feel my breath rattling up and down my windpipe and know that when I am dead it can rattle through the empty spaces between my bones. What is it that keeps me moving, even though I am dead?

Happy Thanksgiving

Once more, apologies for the delay. I have a wealth of information I want to share, and my intent is to post entries on a daily basis. However, as I mentioned in a recent musing, funding is difficult to come by for independent researchers like myself, and my grant applications are as bogged down by bureaucratic red tape as the maintenance requests for my office. I have therefore taken a job on a temporary basis to supplement my income. The work is challenging, though slightly sensitive, and consequently I am forced to shield my readers from the finer points of my employment. I will say that many of my colleagues treat the work as a soulless endeavor, devoid of any personal or professional meaning. Few of them have any interest in my research, possibly because they have become consumed by thoroughly ordinary interests like Pilates or in-line skating. I can’t help but chuckle when I see them hunched over their computer screens, these “living” creatures who consider themselves superior to the Tzombi, if they consider them at all.

Happy Thanksgiving, by the way. Though I personally don’t celebrate the holiday now that my grandmother has passed away, I am happy to have the day off to contemplate my blessings. Of course, it would be nice to have a more steady source (or any source) of funding for my research, but I am alive and well and not bitter in the least that my blessings are so very thin at the moment. Enjoy your turkey, creamed-corn and mince-meat pie, dear Readers!

Zeitgeist

Every culture since has registered the same basic fear, from medieval Europe’s revenants to Haiti’s trodotoxinated nzambi, from which the word zombie originated.

LA Weekly 10/30/2006

One more article for our current examination of Tzombi culture. The LA Weekly – a fine weekly newspaper I have come to love as much for its erotic personal ads as its usefulness in creating papier-mache barriers to the vermin that crawl into my office in the dead of night – recently published a very interesting (if factually inaccurate) story on the subject of “zombies” in modern pop culture. I think you’ll see many of the prejudices apply to a disturbing degree; still, it is nice to see writers (albeit writers who work for a “free” paper) taking the presence of Tzombi (zombie) culture seriously.

Perhaps next time they will contact me for assistance. Though my consulting services aren't inexpensive, most will say I'm worth every penny.

Link to the entire article here.

Art in Echo Park

Funny that I should have mentioned a renaissance in Tzombi culture last post, as I have just attended a wonderful art show that demonstrates this very fact. Last night I attended an opening at a gallery in Echo Park, a showing of Tzombi artists from around the Los Angeles area. I have a few pictures:





I particularly enjoyed the work of an artist named Glen, who was showing some very nice charcoal voids (unfortunately, he wanted to charge me an exhibition fee for posting pictures of his work on the blog).

I also heard some exciting rumors that there was a documentary film crew in attendance, though I personally did not run into them. Apparently, someone is taking my research seriously enough to explore the Tzombi population through our most popular modern medium: cinema. I’m sure they will be contacting me very soon for advice and guidance with their project.

On the Early History of the Tzombi

While I certainly appreciate the ongoing debate about “zombie movies” that is taking place in the comments section of recent posts, I fear we’re simply rehashing all-too-common stereotypes. I don’t want to be a spoilsport – everyone is entitled to their guilty pleasures – but it seems prudent to keep historical FACT in mind. For example, I enjoy Netflixing Cirque du Soleil performances as much as the next person, but I know these programs aren’t an accurate depiction of, say, flexible people or Italian ice vendors.

Therefore, let’s shift our focus from the degrading portrayals of Tzombi in pop culture to the tangible and quite important contributions the Tzombi have made to human civilization. I mentioned an emergent Tzombi renaissance, and much as it vexes me that certain individuals, who are no doubt very open-minded when it comes to other issues -- the legalization of marijuana, for example -- continue to tout the virtues of offensive “zombie” films. A renaissance is generally preceded by a dark age, and though nothing could be darker for the Tzombi race than the flourishing of these offensive films in the 1960’s and 1970’s, there is nowhere to go but up (or at least co-exist with the current resurgence of the modern horror genre).

A similar dark period occurred in Greece around 1200 B.C.E. The Tzombi, fleeing persecution elsewhere, overran Greece and existed with the living in an uneasy truce. In yet another example of the way the Establishment consensus betrays the Tzombi people, one need look no further than the currently accepted translation of Thucydides On the Early History of the Hellenes, in which one passage reads: “The people were migratory, and regularly left their homes whenever they were overpowered by numbers.” If we look at the original source text, it reveals that the Greek word zontanos is here translated as “people”, when it literally means “those who live.” The word aperantos here is translated to the English word “numbers”, but it can be more literally translated as the phrase “many without end” or the words “infinite” or “undying.” The undead. While the accepted translation presents a picture of Greeks fleeing from hostile invaders, a more accurate translation reveals a displaced people searching for a home.

Eventually the Zontanos realized that, despite their sheer numbers, the Aperantos were for the most part docile and good laborers. They also discovered that they could be controlled through their fear of fire. The hearth became the center of home religion, and the defender against the Tzombi hordes. So began several hundred years Aperantos slavery.

Though slaves, the influence of the Tzombi can be felt through the artifacts of the period. The written word ceased to exist, a phenomenon in keeping with the poor eyesight of the Tzombi, and the art of the period reflected this as well. If we look at a piece of Mycenaean pottery from the era which preceded the migration of the Tzombi, we discover a wealth of realistic detail:

Tzombi-influenced pottery, in contrast, favors bold, abstract designs:


As previously mentioned, this “Gray Age” was followed by a glorious renaissance, which I shall attempt to document in a future entry.

So-Called 'Zombie Movies'

My email box has been recently flooded with questions about so-called “zombie movies” (as well as advertisements for low-rate mortgages and Viagra, neither of which I require at this time). In particular, I’d like to respond to Stnrdude126’s comment on his favorite “zombie” movies by reiterating the fact that these films are as offensive to anyone with PMMS as Birth of a Nation is to African Americans. Please keep reading, Stnrdude126, as I will attempt in my next entry to give you a sense of some of the true cultural import of the Tzombi.

Of Mice and Men and Sharp-Toothed Vermin

I’ve been having some vermin problems in the office. Mice, to be more specific. As you can imagine, scraping together funding for my research has been a bit difficult – partly because there is resistance to it by those who see it as controversial, partly because people are hesitant to fund “independent” research (a problem I was hoping to get around by finding a benefactor in the CSLD).

At any rate, I currently have a loose tile on the floor of my office, and though I’ve submitted several maintenance requests to Building Maintenance, no one has responded to those requests as such. True, I’m keeping odd hours, but it seems that the Greater Los Angeles Area keeps odd hours in general, and I don’t see myself as an anomaly here.

Meanwhile, little sharp-toothed bastards come in and destroy my pertinent documents. They seem to find them no matter where I hide them away. Does anyone have a recommendation for a humane mouse deterrent? I’ve done my best to keep them out by stacking cinderblocks on top of the loose tile, but they must have an entry point elsewhere.

Disappointment

Perhaps you recall my earlier discussion of moving to Los Angeles, partly in hopes of joining the faculty at the Center for the Study of the Living Deceased at the California College of Science. I’m sorry to say that I have been deemed overqualified for the department and certain differences in opinion with the policies of the school have forced me to withdraw my application. I’ve always believed that we can affect the most change by working within a broken system, not by railing against a wrong-headed establishment with forceful words or superior data. For now, I’ll take the high road and wish the CSLD the best of luck with their program and offer my assistance when they come to certain conclusions that I have already reached. I’m not saying that I have all the answers, merely that I would have been a valuable resource.

In light of this development, I will retain my status as an independent researcher and maintain my own cozy office here in downtown Los Angeles (which, incidentally, has a partial view of the old Herald-Examiner Building).

The Origin of the Term 'Tzombi'

In response to the question about the esteemed Mr. Davis, though his work was no doubt groundbreaking, there have been a number of authorities who have called it into question on both scientific and ethical bases. I, however, am going to rely on the weight of accumulated facts to refute his claims. The origin of the term Tzombi is as follows:

In 1476 A.D. The Portuguese dispatched a ship for the north of Africa, but it was presumed lost and nothing was heard of it until several years later, when, according to Joao de Barros in his Decados da Asia it returned to Portugal in the year 1482, bearing with it people and treasures from Kongo. The sailors recounted the experience of running out of provisions, passing out from hunger, and drifting off course until they ran aground south of the Zaire river.

Since the reaction of the Kongo people to their unexpected visitors comes to us filtered through the Portuguese, it needs to be taken with a grain of salt. What we do know is that the Kongo people called the King of Portugal tzombi mbumba, which has been translated by most scholars as “lord of the earth,” presumably because of the riches he sent as gifts. What they have failed to take into account is that Kongo people were calling him this even before he sent his boatload of riches, and that the term mbumba, which refers to the terrestrial plane, is also the name of a disease which the Kongo believed was contracted through the dirt. P. Bonaventura da Corella, in his Report on Indigenous Congo Religion, relates how they threw the corpses of mbumba victims into the water. When, in the 17th century, missionaries insisted on burying them, they later found the graves dug up. It is assumed that the people dug them up and threw them in the water, but it is just as possible that the “corpses”, suffering from PMMS (Post-Mortem Mobility Syndrome), dug themselves out of their necessarily shallow graves (the water table was very high) and continued their post-deceased existences elsewhere.

Upon the return of the Portuguese in 1491 (this time bearing gifts) the mani sonyo organized a festival in which the participants, naked to the waist, painted their skins white in honor of the tzombi mbumba, or Lord of the Disease. The word tzombi eventually followed the Kongo people across the ocean, when the Portuguese slave trade carried people as far as the Caribbean, South Americas, and the U.S., from whence we find numerous anecdotes from slave owners documenting a habit of dirt-eating among their slaves, a habit which still persists in some southern states, particularly Alabama and Mississippi.

In Haiti the “zombie” became a part of Vodou, but the Haitian zombie has very little to do with the zombie we’re describing here. In fact, the Haitian zombie seems to be more performative than anything else, a vestigial ritual echoing that in 1491 which has been subsumed into the religion of Vodou.

Although there are most likely true Tzombi in the Caribbean, they have nothing to do with the tradition of Vodou. In a future entry I will attempt to trace the (sometimes enforced) migration of the Tzombi from their origins in Ancient Sumer to their current position as inhabitants of most of the world’s continents.

A Book on the Horizon?

I have, from time to time, considered writing a book chronicling my research into the Tzombi phenomenon. I will admit that it’s a daunting idea, in that I would bear an enormous weight on my shoulders in my quest to detail such a complex subject, particularly in the absence of other scholarly work. Rest assured that it is not something I would undertake lightly, and when I do find the time to embark upon the project, I won’t write something sensationalistic in nature, especially something the movie industry would be tempted to exploit. It would be nice to pay off some of my student loans, but surely there is a more ethically responsible way to make a living.

Also, a kind reader pointed out that THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW featured the talents of Bill Pullman, not Bill Murray. Apologizes to Mr. Pullman, an actor I have enjoyed in a number of fine films, including BROKEBACK PALACE and WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING.

The Myth of Brains

Q: How many zombies does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: BRAINS!!!

Q: Why did the zombie cross the road?
A: BRAINS!!!

Q: Knock knock.
A: Who’s there?
Q: Zombie.
A: Zombie who?
Q: BRAINS!!!

Examples of racist “jokes” from a children’s book, The Monster Mash Joke Book, edited by Frank Ulstrom, Funny Bone Books 1972.


Popular culture has done a great disservice to the Tzombi race, particularly over the past 60 years, as evidenced by a number of films and graphic novels and so-called “survival guides” that have surfaced into mainstream “entertainment" (I shall not bother to mention these titles by name).

In reality, it would not be an egregious claim to state that the history of the Tzombi race is the history of civilization itself. A largely nomadic people, tzombi have been present at the sites of many of the greatest achievements in human civilization. Temples, cathedrals, entire systems of logic and philosophy have been built (in some cases literally -- see the “Legend of the Knocking Virgin,” Alternative History Monthly, January 1997) on their backs. And yet, of the popular conceptions the public-at-large holds, one is a corruption, and the other is nothing short of racism.

I shall address this last first, as it is easiest to dismiss.

The popular conception of the Tzombi as mindless, brain-eating miscreants is utterly unfounded. While it is true they have a limited capacity for reading due to poor eyesight, their intellectual capacity varies as widely as that of the pre-deceased (for a more specific study on categorization of the Tzombi population, I will refer you to an internal document PAGE NOT FOUND produced by the Center for the Study of the Living Deceased [CSLD]).

According to my extensive research, history shows us there have been Tzombi philosophers, Tzombi mathematicians, and Tzombi emperors. There have also been Tzombi serfs, Tzombi criminals, and Tzombi manual laborers. There have no doubt been a few cannibal Tzombi; as there have been cannibals among the pre-deceased. But the misconception that Tzombi eat brains is, frankly, ludicrous. The human brain is completely encased in a thick layer of bone—the skull—which makes it the most difficult portion of the body to get at. When such a plentitude of meat is readily available, why would anyone take the trouble to get to the brains? I have been told that in certain movies the “zombies” crunch through the skull with their teeth, but in reality Tzombi have been known to suffer from necrotizing periodontitis. In general, Tzombi are anxious to preserve their teeth for as long as possible and would no more engage in such an activity than an intelligent man would open a beer bottle with his teeth.

As far as I can ascertain, the misconception about Tzombi eating brains stems from two sources:

1) An ancient Sumerian text in which Sargon the Great commands his Tzombi hordes to establish dominion over the living by decapitating several of them and removing their brains with sharp sticks before throwing them into the fire

2) A series of articles from the Boston Sunday Globe in December of 1888 “exposing” cannibalism in Haiti.

Couple this with the fear of the minority (or The Other, as dictated by theories of continental philosophy) and it’s easy to understand why most Americans have come to believe that “zombies” are out to steal our brains, much in the way that in the past it was feared that African Americans would steal our women, Jews would steal our gold, and Catholics would steal our babies.

In any case, the 1888 expose of cannibalism in “Hayti” betrayed the Tzombi race in two ways: one, it is patently untrue; two, the Haitian zombie is not a true zombie, but rather a ritual, or performative, one (the Haitian zombie has its origins in the Kongo, but a history of the true Tzombi goes back as far as ancient Sumer). In the 20th century, a series of books by Wade Davis explored the concept of these Haitian zombies, most notably THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW, a marginally convincing (in my opinion) treatise that was subsequently turned into an utterly unconvincing film starring Bill Murray.

A Clarification on the Sunset Village Incident

In my previous post, I referenced an incident involving my grandmother and the Sunset Village Retirement Community in Boca Raton. My grandmother is a wonderful woman who raised me from the time I was a young boy. I did not mean to insinuate that my grandmother and I had a falling-out. In fact, I’m fairly certain that she had little to do with my abrupt removal from the property; in fact it was the Homeowner’s Association Board that made the final decision. Grandmothers simply do not change the locks and call estate security to chase their grandsons from the property and file for a restraining order.

I merely reference what transpired between us as another instance of the delicate ground my research treads upon. My grandmother could not help but be consumed by the prejudices that others hold for my field of study. Tzombi might as well be lepers or pedophiles or vegetarians to these people, a misperception I find both sad and a little alarming.

Drunken Monkeys of Palau

As I suggested in my last post, governmental agencies have been slow to adopt any sort of policy regarding the tzombi population. Part of this failure certainly rests with members of the academic and scientific community. Despite my best efforts, many of them remain ignorant or, worse, opposed to the contributions the Tzombi people have made to human civilization.

This is especially upsetting when my petitions to those who should be sympathetic -- by virtue of their representation of certain minority groups -- fall upon deaf ears. One especially hostile response came from the Micronesian Cultural Heritage Center in Gainesville, FL, which in 2004 mounted an exhibition on Palauan Storyboards. When I wrote a thoughtful letter to the Director suggesting she include an explanatory sidebar on the origins of the so-called “Drunken Monkeys of Palau” – featured on a number of the storyboards in the exhibit – I received the following response:

Dear Mr. Weiss:

Please do not waste our time. We are under-funded and understaffed and do not appreciate the implication that Micronesian culture is so obscure as to be mocked by the likes of you. The people of Micronesia are not now nor ever have been associated with “zombies”. May we suggest you take the time to become familiar with Micronesian culture and stop making jokes at our expense.

Eva Olkenriil
Assistant Director, Micronesian Cultural Heritage Center

Obviously, I was upset by this response, as I wanted nothing more than to honor their contributions towards a global awareness of Micronesian Culture AND augment it with my own field of study. To ignore the clear evidence of a fledgling tzombi population would be irresponsible, not to mention counterproductive to their own attempts to fully explore the history of Micronesia. I sent them the following response:

Dear Ms. Olkenriil:

Please excuse my previous letter. While I realize my topic of study is obscure, I didn’t realize it was so obscure as to remain unknown to experts in the field. I realize now that it’s entirely possible you are unaware of the “Drunken Monkeys of Palau,” a folk-tale which has been documented numerous times in both the visual form of the storyboard as well as in oral retellings recorded by anthropologist Dr. Judith Steiner and documented in her book Holy Shit: Scatology and Religion in the Oral Traditions of the Southern Hemisphere.

The gist of the story is as follows: a war breaks out between the Iyebu, or “ashen ones” - a partially legendary group who live on the southernmost tip of the island - and the monkeys who live in the tree-tops over the kidnapping of the Monkey Princess Turangel ra Ochaeu. The monkeys attack the Iyebu from the trees, flinging feces down on them. The Iyebu respond in kind, which escalates the skirmish into an out-and-out feces war, which in a related myth, gives rise to Mt. Tmerou. The war escalates, with the Iyebu shooting many of the monkeys with arrows. The monkeys fall from the trees but are seen by the islanders to run off into the forest.

Eventually the Iyebu disappear, but some of the locals begin to notice that the monkeys themselves have turned ashen (the storyboard I own has a carving of a pre-deceased monkey in marked contrast with an ashen one, who is clearly gray). It is also observed that the monkeys are no longer able to balance well enough to live in the trees. They eventually take up residence in the caves of Mt. Tmerou, where they live to this day, emerging only at night.

I have sent along copies of all the documentation related to this oft-told tale. I would even be willing to loan my storyboard to the exhibition, although it’s not one of the nicest I’ve seen. I’ve included a photo. Note the ashen monkey in the lower right-hand corner, and Mt. Tmerou in the background. Please contact me if you have further questions or require further citations.

Cordially,
Rodrigo Weiss

I received the following response:

Dear Mr. Weiss:

Surely you can find a better use of your time. The storyboard you own is clearly a cheap tourist trinket, not an authentic artifact. Furthermore, the so-called “ashen” monkey seems to be a case of digital photo manipulation. Either that or the paint simply rubbed off it.

Sincerely,
Eva Olkenriil

I responded thus:

Dear Ms. Olkenriil:

Perhaps you feel the subject of the feces-fight is inappropriate for an exhibition. May I remind you of the “uncouth” nature of most of the Palauan storyboards? Do I really need to remind you of the tale of the giant with the penis so large that he blasts women across the sea when he ejaculates? I hope that your exhibition is not going to be overly chaste and ignore the more ribald elements, which make up the bulk of the folk tales.

Sincerely,
Rodrigo Weiss

And this last missive:

Dear Mr. Weiss:

Don’t write me again. Fuck off. I mean it.

Eva Olkenriil

While I was disappointed with the turn this exchange ultimately took, I remain fascinated with Micronesian culture and hope to visit the islands one day to further my research. This, despite the fact that I don’t do well in hot, humid climates, a sad truth I discovered while briefly living with my grandmother in a Boca Raton retirement community. It’s probably for the best that I wasn’t allowed to remain at Sunset Village, or my Onychomycosis (particularly aggravated by tropical weather) might have become life-threatening.

In any case, the aim of my including this correspondence here is, of course, to demonstrate the difficulty which will no doubt accompany the Tzombi people’s emergence, to use a Palauan metaphor, from the caves of obscurity into the daylight of acceptance.

Defining My Terms

I’ve been gently reminded by a new reader that a good social scientist always defines his terms, especially for laypeople who may not be familiar with dense academic concepts or a sophisticated scientific vocabulary.

For the purposes of this blog (and my research in general) Tzombi refers to a living dead/deceased person, regardless of race or ethnic origin. The etymology of the term is a complex one and in subsequent postings, I will certainly endeavor to illuminate the threads of language and history that have carried the term into our modern English usage.

A significant number of governmental agencies have adopted the term “Revenant” as an alternative label for the tzombi population. Personally, I find this term to be clinical, misleading, and just plain inaccurate, but governmental entities seldom take advice from their more learned colleagues in the institutions of higher learning. A sad commentary on the state of our educational system, indeed.

A Humble Beginning

When I was pursuing my degree in the History of Consciousness at the University of California at Santa Cruz, I helmed a study of Near Death Experiences, or NDE’s, as part of my thesis project. I posted a notice around campus:

TUNNEL OF LIGHT?
FEELING OF ONENESS WITH THE UNIVERSE?
You may be eligible to take part in a University-funded study
Please contact Rodrigo Weiss, XXX-XXX-XXXX

The response was overwhelming. I met with any number of hallucinogenic drug users, eastern religion enthusiasts, a few Pentecostals, and the entire cast of a local Rocky Horror Picture Show (Saturdays at 1:00am, Del Mar Theater).

My advisor later told me I should have been more specific in the ad. In hindsight, this recommendation seems obvious, especially in a place like Santa Cruz; at the time, I was too engrossed in my work to take much notice of the social construct of my surroundings, though I did enjoy a very impressive selection of coffee products (a selection I find sorely lacking in Los Angeles).

The study did, however, turn up a few interesting leads. Though the traditional NDE experience was cogently argued to be the result of a number of processes set in motion due to anoxia. I discovered a number of individuals who experienced the inverse of the traditional NDE: a swirling black void, and a feeling of intense isolation.

My meetings with these individuals turned out to be fortuitous; they introduced me to a community whose nature I initially doubted, but whose characteristics I began to see mirrored in sources both historical and contemporary. Eventually I realized I had stumbled not only onto a hitherto unrecognized subculture, but rather an entirely new race, whose existence through the ages has been either ignored or actively suppressed.

(If this sounds unlikely, as it indeed did to me, one need look no further than the melungeons of the Southern Appalachians, who are currently being denied the status of “race” by the Academic community)

Of course I am speaking about the tzombi population. Though my initial discoveries took place in North America, specifically California, more specifically the Santa Cruz area, I soon embarked upon a new course of study which took me to five continents. In some quarters my work was viewed with interest, in others with disdain and even scorn. In this pursuit I keep company with many great men, and I shall make a valiant attempt to maintain my place among them, not through any intrinsic worth of my own, but through the profundity of my discovery.

Just for the record: I don’t for a moment regret my abandonment of the History of Consciousness degree (regardless of what the transcripts might say, I made the choice to leave the University, I was not officially forced out by the faculty).