The Zombie Scholar

2007-07-29T21:12:00.000-07:00

TRAGEDY UNFOLDS AT MILLIONAIRE’S BUNKER
Los Angeles New Times, July 8, 2007

Ivo Kashoggian’s newly-erected underground palace collapsed in the middle of a party with an estimated 300 in attendance, police said this morning.

“So far, 218 bodies have been found,” police lieutenant Craig Jensen said. “We have a crew working to find the rest of them, but there are very few places left to look.”

When asked if some of the victims exhibited signs of PMMS, Lieutenant Jensen seemed hesitant to respond. “Kashoggian was R428 positive,” he said, “although he wasn’t forthcoming about that. It’s true that some of the people we thought must surely be dead turned out not to be.”

But is there evidence of foul play? When questioned about the explosive charges reportedly found in the rubble and the bite marks on many of the victims, Police Chief Sandy Coombs was reluctant to comment. “We’re reserving comments until we can put the whole picture together,” he said. “If it turns out the collapse was planned, it wouldn’t be the first time Kashoggian was involved in criminal actions. The only difference is, this time he didn’t get away with it.”

Or did he? Though Kashoggian was almost certainly in attendance, his body has yet to be found.

Ivo Kashoggian

2007-06-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

I don’t know which I am more drawn to, Mathilde or the Black Rock.

Whichever it is, I can no longer resist.

I am going to Ivo Kashoggian’s to see both of them (the journey will be long).

It occurs to me that these computers on which we are communicating are nothing but coffins of glass and plastic.

My dear friends, are you out there? Sometimes I think I made the lot of you up.

I am cognizant that if I go to Kashoggian’s, some change may happen. At the very least, I may despise myself, I have never been drawn to anything or anyone like this before.

At any rate, for the time being, I leave you with a friend to keep you company.

I am departing, dear friends.

I shall return.

Writing on the Wall (Door)

2007-06-29T22:58:00.000-07:00

My building has been condemned. Apparently somebody complained one too many times about a rodent problem. I found this letter on my door: IT IS ILLEGAL TO TRESPASS, DESTROY, OR REMOVE ANYTHING FROM THESE PREMISES. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED.

Obviously there are officials who want to see me brought down.

Shameful Secrets

2007-06-24T22:55:00.000-07:00

It is with great regret that I post the following e-mail, one which will lay bare one of the most shameful secrets of my life. Please withhold your judgements.

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/25/98
SUBJECT: The truth

Rodrigo—

All along, I knew the truth. What does it matter? The world is a tomb, and I have loved you since we were children. I know you lost your memory of the accident - perhaps you blocked it out. I was in the car with you. I was wearing my First Communion veil and white dress and I imagined we were on the way to our wedding.

For awhile, I believed you knew as well. It was fate that brought us together in college - I did not seek you out. I was sure you recognized me. But I fell so deeply in love with you I couldn’t risk it. I was unaware of how much your Grandmother had suppressed, though I understand her need to do so. I was unaware of how much you had suppressed, as well. When you said you were ready to open up the storage unit, I was willing to support you. I feared I would lose you—please don’t let my worst fears come true.

I changed my name when I was “cured.” My doctor thought it would be good to make a clean break with my past. You know me as Mary.

The world is a tomb. Cousins, lovers - what does it matter? We make our own rules.

Yours,
Mary/Mathilde

2007-06-21T22:45:00.000-07:00

I remember it. Do you?

Do you remember I sang you Edith Piaf?

Do you remember how thrilling it was at the beginning of our relationship? That feeling of finding someone? You were conducting your study of Near Death Experiences, and I told you that every day for me was a “Near Death Experience.”

We found an understanding.

At least for a time.

Can we find an understanding again?

Death Be Not Proud

2007-06-19T22:39:00.000-07:00

At this point in our correspondence I remember quoting John Donne, the Tzombi poet (those of you in literary circles may scoff at this suggestion, but remember “Death be not proud?") Anyone with a passing familiarity with Izaak Walton’s biography of Donne will know that he exhibited most of the traits associated with the Tzombi race. In fact, one of his early poems, “The Good Morrow”—the title itself a reference to the “morrow” after death—contains the line “Whatever dyes, was not mixt equally.” Most scholars consider this a love poem, when in fact it is a coded reference to his Tzombi status, the term “mixture” being largely applied in the late 1500’s to one’s combination of nationalities. Here he is proclaiming his “mixture” to be equal parts Tzombi and Anglo.

At any rate, I remember including lines from the Tzombi poet’s “The Anniversarie”:

Only our love hath no decay;
This, no to morrow hath, nor yesterday.
Two graves must hide thine and my coarse,
If one might, death were no divorce.

2007-06-07T00:05:00.001-07:00

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/18/98
SUBJECT: Base desires

Rodrigo -

Death surrounds us like a shroud, but I must honor it, and you must honor me. I can see you are not ready. It is for your own protection.

Mathilde

TO: Mathilde Bagnoire
FROM: Rodrigo Weiss
DATE: 05/19/98
SUBJECT: Necrophilia

Mathilde -

I will honor you. But follow my line of reasoning: love has no logic, but perhaps it can be applied here: if you are, in fact, dead, then the doctors are wrong, and I don’t, in fact, exist. If this is true, everything is in your head and the rules of society hold no sway over us, because society is merely a construct of your own imagination. If I do, in fact exist, then so do the doctors and you are not, in fact, dead. Therefore the necrophilia you mentioned is impossible.

I feel like a schoolboy trying to convince his crush to dance with him—forgive me. But this, too, adds to a vitality that I have not felt at all during my adult life, so perhaps these adolescent feelings are appropriate. You have made me new again.

Yours,

Rodrigo

2007-06-06T01:04:00.000-07:00

TO: Mathilde Bagnoire
FROM: Rodrigo Weiss
DATE: 05/18/98
SUBJECT: Base desires

Mathilde --

I must admit to you that, in general, I am a stranger to base desires. Perhaps it is due to my being steeped in the materialist branches of philosophy; perhaps I recognize such things as simply a means of furthering a species I am uncertain is worth furthering; perhaps I am unable to engage in such things because I see the world as a joyless sham. What I do know is that when I contemplate indulging in the carnal with you it seems, not like the base act it is, but rather an act of affirmation—the ultimate proof that we both exist and have overcome the death which surrounds us.

Rodrigo

2007-06-05T00:02:00.000-07:00

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 04/22/98
SUBJECT: The solipsistic conceit

Rodrigo -

I feel I should distinguish for you between the rational, empirically provable fact that I am alive and the emotional truth that I am dead. The paradox here is essentially the same as that which underlies the solipsistic conceit: the doctors can tell me that I have a mental or chemical condition, but when I question the very reality of those doctors, none of what they way matters. I KNOW I am dead. I also know that others find this difficult to accept. I am perfectly within my rights to doubt their existence.

When I am capable of being rational, I am fully aware of my situation. I have been diagnosed with Cotard’s Syndrome by a team of doctors in Paris. I spent eight years in an institution on a daily regimen of Venlafaxine and Zuclopenthixol. When my doctor, the leading specialist in Cotard’s Syndrome, decided to relocate to Southern California, I followed him. I have not seen the specialist for years, although I have continued my drug regiment. But when I am here, Paris does not exist, and the doctors do not exist except as constructs of my own imagination. My problem is a reality. I am dead. If the doctors do not exist, their theory that I suffer from mental illness is simply a construction of my mind. Nobody else exists—I am in the grave, surrounded by six feet of isolation. If anyone is capable of making me believe in the autonomy of the other human beings around me, it is you. I know my psyche, which has known so little kindness, love, or generosity, is utterly incapable of inventing a person with such an abundance of these qualities.

However, though sweet, your words worry me. I do not want you to be absorbed. If anything, I want to be absorbed into you. As I’ve said before, your existence is proof positive that I am not alone.

If you will have me, I am yours.

Mathilde.

P.S. I suppose kissing is fine, but I will not have you sullied by allowing you to engage in an act that amounts to necrophilia, much as I might desire it. Please honor my wishes on this point.”

The Episode

2007-06-03T00:01:00.000-07:00

Mathilde.

You must listen to me.

You don’t remember your episode.

I remember everything.

You were out of your head. I moved you from the window, where you were lying in the sun, complaining that it was burning your flesh away, to the darkened bedroom. I sat with you for hours. You wrapped the sheet around yourself like a shroud. I stayed for several hours until you fell asleep. I came back every day to check on you.

I must admit that feeling needed by you was an exhilarating and slightly frightening proposition.

Having no family other than my grandmother, the bonds of any kind of love were bound to be a bit untried - I only hope I could honor them to the level at which they deserve to be honored.

2007-06-02T01:59:00.000-07:00

You know that blunt trauma to the head was the cause of my syndrome.

Be honest with yourself, Rodrigo. You were there.

An Overriding Aesthetic

2007-06-01T11:00:00.000-07:00

I would hardly characterize my fastidiousness as a “disorder,” but rather an overriding aesthetic with which I live and work.

2007-05-31T05:49:00.000-07:00

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD):

A condition that is characterized by the presence of obsessions and/or compulsions. Obsessions are recurrent, intrusive thoughts usually irrational worries that often necessitate behaviors to prevent untoward consequences (e.g., fears of contamination from dirt requiring the individual to wear gloves at all times). Compulsions are recurrent behaviors that the individual feels compelled to undertake which are beyond what are considered normal, usually to preserve personal safety, to avoid embarrassment, to perform adequately (e.g., checking multiple times to see that the gas is turned off before leaving home).

In the Interest of Understanding

2007-05-25T23:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers:

In the interest of understanding, I’d like to draw your attention to the phrase in the above correspondence which Mathilde illegally posted on my blog: “It’s so rarely that I am able to escape my own head.” This statement epitomizes Mathilde’s affliction, which is characterized as a type of megalomelancholia.

In the beginning of our relationship, I sympathized with these feelings, even encouraged them, as I felt they were a healthy appraisal of the philosophical idea of solipsism , an idea which it is impossible to refute. What I began to realize, however, is that this attitude was a sign of mental illness.

Please note I attribute my inability to perform a certain function to the slovenly nature of Mathilde’s flat. Before the function in question was to be performed, I had stepped on a cockroach in my bare feet. This, and the fact that she was wearing her communion veil.

2007-05-24T01:01:00.000-07:00

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/11/98
SUBJECT: Last night

Rodrigo—

Please don’t be ashamed about last night. Your grief is wholly warranted, and a logical result of these exciting times. I was honored to be there to help you through it. It is so rarely that I am able to escape my own head.

Mathilde

TO: Mathilde Bagnoire
FROM: Rodrigo Weiss
DATE: 05/12/98
SUBJECT: My failure

Mathilde—

I have never failed in this capacity before. I have always found myself able to perform. I don’t know where those feelings came from. All of these years I kept my family’s things in storage. I didn’t want to look at them because I didn’t want to be sentimental. I didn’t cry much—my grandmother cried enough for us both, and I often found it embarrassing and even suspected it might be false. I don’t know why now should be the time for me to suffer this sudden access of emotion.

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/12/98
SUBJECT: Your failure

Rodrigo—

I know you’re confused by your feelings, and possibly a little frightened. I am confused, too—but remember how you felt when you were able to help me through my melancholic episode? I am here to help you as well.

Mathilde

Hot Sauce

2007-05-23T10:00:00.000-07:00

The hot sauce does not appear to be working, despite the fact that I have slathered it along every available surface. I am desperate.

Last night I had a vision of the Black Rock. I saw it standing in a dark cavern, outlined by red lights, with thousands of rodents swarming around it in a frenzy. The rodents were howling -- a high-pitched, unearthly howling which threatened to undo my sanity. And yet I was drawn to it with all the memory in my genes. I couldn’t look away even though I felt myself being consumed.

When I woke, I was sitting at my desk at the office. It was well past 11:00 p.m. and everyone had gone home. My fingers were still perched over the computer keyboard.

2007-05-22T22:17:00.000-07:00

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/06/98
SUBJECT: The veil

Rodrigo—

I am troubled and disappointed that I found you rooting around in my closet last night, but even more so that you responded so violently on finding my veil. Did you think it was a bridal veil? That perhaps I was preparing for our wedding? Or that I had been married before? Or did you know it as from my First Communion, which I was never able to celebrate? You know I’m not religious, but Doctor Brandauer, in the course of my treatment, advised me to make a clean break with my troubled childhood by keeping only one memento. I thought I might wear it for you so you could understand where I came from. I can see now you’re not ready for that revelation.

Mathilde

TO: Mathilde Bagnoire
FROM: Rodrigo Weiss
DATE: 05/07/98
SUBJECT: The veil

Mathilde—

I admit the thought crossed my mind that you were indulging in fantasies of marriage, when I thought we had agreed that commitments of any sort would only be detrimental to our relationship. I must admit the veil also reminded me of my upbringing and the painful memories associated with it.

Rodrigo

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/07/98
SUBJECT: The veil

Rodrigo—

We don’t need to speak the words if you’re not ready.

Mathilde

Rodents in a Trap

2007-05-21T10:14:00.000-07:00

I have finally taken one of the rodents – which I caught with a trap, rather than poison – placed it carefully in a plastic bag to avoid contamination, and compared it to a picture in a book – it is, in fact, a vole. It now makes perfect sense that the poison does not work on them.

Thank you, erthwsdm, for providing me with that helpful bit of information. However, I am still at a loss as to how to alleviate the problem.

Everything Out In The Open

2007-05-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

Perhaps erthwisdom is right -- perhaps it is best to get everything out in the open.

Mathilde, do you remember the euphoria of those first days together?

Why do you persist in antagonizing me? Did we not get some joy from each other?

2007-05-15T01:37:00.000-07:00

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 03/16/98
SUBJECT: Broomhandle

Rodrigo—

The connection you mention is one I have long dreamed about as well, and just as long thought impossible. When I had my accident as a child and was in the hospital for so many long years, I felt that I would never find a connection with another human soul. I so often feel divorced from my body, but with you inside me I know that it is real. If only Broomhandle could fly into my mouth, ending the painful separation between us both! The days are too long without you. I want a tiny version of you that I can keep in my pocket.

Mathilde

2007-05-11T04:34:00.000-07:00

To: Mathilde Bagnoire
From: Rodrigo Weiss
Date: 03/15/98
Subject: This feeling

Mathilde—

I never knew that this sort of feeling existed. I have had relationships in the past, but have never felt such an intensity. I feel as if I am about to leap off the precipice, but in the full knowledge that I can fly.

Rodrigo

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 03/15/98
SUBJECT: My feeling

Rodrigo—

Having your company for the night was the surest proof that I am actually alive. I have never felt this much a part of the world.

Mathilde

TO: Mathilde Bagnoire
FROM: Rodrigo Weiss
DATE: 03/16/98
SUBJECT: Broomhandle

Mathilde—

Nor have I. I want to hold you all day and night, and feel your cool flesh against mine. When I was a boy, I dreamed about connecting in this way with a woman. I spent much of my time inventing stories about my alter ego, Sir Roderick, and his love the Lady Madeline, who was imprisoned in a coffin of glass. I know, I know, it sounds a lot like Sleeping Beauty—but to my credit, there was no dragon—just an evil witch. And the only way the coffin could be opened was for the Lady Madeline to open it from the inside, so Sir Roderick sent his pet dragonfly Broomhandle through the keyhole to whisper the magic words in the Lady Madeline’s ear. Sometimes the witch captured Roderick as well, and Broomhandle would have to fly through the keyhole of his glass coffin and out into the forest to the witch’s castle where the Lady Madeline was imprisoned. In one particularly inspired variation, Broomhandle had to sacrifice himself for the love of his master by flying into the Lady Madeline’s mouth and becoming the magic words she was required to speak.

I later tried turning these stories into a children’s book, but the publishers to whom I submitted the manuscript felt that its themes were too adult. I include for your amusement the illustration of Broomhandle flying into the Lady Madeline’s mouth, and an “outtake”, from a version in which Sir Roderick first attempts to get the Lady Madeline to say the magic words through a game of charades.

Rodrigo

More Disappointing News

2007-05-09T17:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Weiss –

Re: your most recent submission to The Learning Annex teaching pool. I’m sorry you found our standard rejection letter misleading. Let me state clearly and personally that we are not offering classes in any sort of zombie history at this time. Zombies do not exist. Please refrain from submitting another proposal. If you are interested in participating in one of our mental health seminars, I would be happy to provide you with a discount code (I think you could really use some help). Otherwise, the next time you have an urge to send us a packet of your “materials and research,” go to the nearest tall building and take a flying leap.

Sincerely,
Liz Baker
Assistant to the Executive in Charge of Submissions

I choose not to lose my faith in humankind, but to instead believe that this is the work of a bored young woman, perhaps in an argument with her boss, or smarting over being rejected from the English Department at UCLA yet again. I shall submit another application soon, to another department, and press on with my quest to share my research with a larger audience.

The Price of Progress

2007-05-07T12:34:00.000-07:00

A sad note to report: Botanica Mystere, that wonderful shop run by Esperanza McNunn (noted in an earlier entry) has been boarded up, along with The Juice Fountain. Apparently, they are building some sort of hotel complex in the area.

I hope the merchants fare well in their new homes.

Another Solution

2007-05-01T23:22:00.000-07:00

I have been advised that mice avoid hot sauce.

Of course this made for a rather comical scene at the grocery store, as I pushed a cartful of Tabasco, Cholula, Tapatio, and something called “Mad Iguana” through the aisles, explaining to curious onlookers that it was for my mice.

Sometimes the most vexing problems can provide us with a bit of levity.

An Open Letter to the Person Who Spread Dish Soap on My Stairs This Morning

2007-04-30T11:14:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure whether it was sabotage or simply a poor attempt to clean up the cigarette ash that you've tracked up and down our staircase for the past two years, but please note that dish soap is exceptionally slippery and not suitable for commercial cleaning uses.

As for my early morning tumble down the stairs, dear Readers, you can rest assured that I merely sprained my back and my index finger. No permanent damage was done (except to my Grandmother's thermos - my only keepsake of hers - that shattered beyond all repair).

Return of the Sharp-Toothed Vermin

2007-04-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

The mice have been gnawing again, leaving traces of themselves all over my workspace. I see whiskers and droppings and bits of sawdust from the walls. I can hear them chewing in the silence, when I am reading or staring at the blank computer screen. After several more pleas to the property management company, this is the note I received from the building manager:

Hey zombie [sic] guy –

I’m not supposed to give you anything, but this should get rid of those rats of yours.

Charlie
Bldg. Manager

I sprinkled the poison around the places where the mice have been getting in, but it hasn’t been working. Nothing works.

Nothing.

Does anyone have any suggestions?

Success!

2007-04-26T18:51:00.000-07:00

Thanks to new security measures I've recently taken, I can confidently say there will be no more unauthorized posts from a certain person on this blog.

Thank you all for your patience.

2007-04-23T04:03:00.000-07:00

FROM: Rodrigo Weiss
TO: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/09/98
SUBJECT: Travel plans?

Mathilde -

I must confess that seeing you lying there like that I experienced a disturbing sense of déjà vu. It was that, more than anything, which set me off.

You’re right. I am feeling raw. Perhaps my euphoria has left me with an excess of energy. I don’t know what to do with myself.

Perhaps we should travel?

Yours,
Rodrigo

FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
TO: Rodrigo Weiss
DATE: 05/09/98
SUBJECT: My condition

Rodrigo -

You know that I can’t travel in my condition. Besides, to do so would be a flight from reality.

Mathilde

TO: Mathilde Bagnoire
FROM: Rodrigo Weiss
DATE: 05/09/98
SUBJECT: Your condition

Mathilde -

I don’t think you’re in any condition to judge reality.

Rodrigo

TO: Rodrigo Weiss
FROM: Mathilde Bagnoire
DATE: 05/09/98
SUBJECT: My reality

Rodrigo -

I know my reality, and I know that you’re not living in it.

Let’s stop this. I want to see you.

Tonight.

M.

A Plea For Help

2007-04-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

Can someone help me with this?

2007-04-21T21:39:00.000-07:00

To: Mathilde Bagnoire
From: Rodrigo Weiss
Date: 05/08/98
Subject: Apology

Mathilde -

I’m sorry for the things I said last night. I had spent the previous 24 hours thinking of nothing but you; perhaps the anticipation I felt was too much for me to bear. I shouldn’t have blamed you.

R.

To: Rodrigo Weiss
From: Mathilde Bagnoire
Date: 05/08/98
Subject: My condition

Rodrigo -

I don’t mind you criticizing my housekeeping skills; I have never felt cleanliness to be particularly important when the world is a living tomb. I had suspected you might be put off, given your nature. But I am not likely to change. Where I do take offense is in your criticism of my performance—you know that physical exertion is not good for one in my condition; I hope you also know that I did not purposefully imitate a cadaver.

I think you may still be feeling a bit raw emotionally, and would prefer to put everything behind us.

Mathilde

A Simple Request

2007-04-20T09:09:00.000-07:00

Mathilde, I demand that you stop posting here.

2007-04-19T04:48:00.000-07:00

From the Boca Raton Bee, November 6 -13 edition:

Mae Ridgecrest Weiss passed away November 3, 2004 at her home in Boca Raton, Florida. She was 92. Born in New York, New York, Ms. Weiss was the heiress to the Ridgecrest Food Company, famous for manufacturing communion wafers supplied to Catholic churches across the United States and Canada. Her husband, son, daughter-in-law and two grandchildren were killed in an automobile accident in 1976, leaving her a widow.

Ms. Weiss enjoyed cooking and needlepoint. She also enjoyed traveling in the Northeast, touring Communion Wafer plants and sampling their merchandise. Later in life, despite her great fortune, she lived without luxury or electricity. She is survived by one grandson, whereabouts unknown.

Graveside services will be held Friday, November 7 at 1 p.m., at the Holy Cross Cemetery on County Road P in Boca Raton. A viewing will be held on Thursday, November 6, 2006, from 4-8 p.m. at Sweet & Son Mortuary. Memorial contributions may be made to the Sisters of Mercy Food Bank and the Animal Shelter of Boca Raton.

I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS!

2007-04-18T08:05:00.000-07:00

I will not stand for my blog to be hijacked.

Mathilde, since you refuse to contact me privately, and since my attempts to contact you have proved futile, I must publicly implore you to stop.

Stop.

Stop publishing my private e-mails! They were not meant to be read by anyone but you!

Readers, as you know, I’m not a technically adept computer programmer. This blog was started with the assistance of a student hired from a flyer posted in the downtown branch of the Los Angeles Public Library. Unfortunately, Z. has disappeared from the face of the earth. Calls have gone unreturned. Beware of this young man; do not be taken in by his boyish charm and assurances that his “extremely reasonable rate” will include follow-up consultations.

Obviously, I no longer trust or respect my so-called “co-workers,” so I cannot ask them for help.

Mathilde, do not force me to shut down this blog.

2007-04-17T04:40:00.000-07:00

To: Mathilde Bagnoire
From: Rodrigo Weiss
Date: 04/28/98
Subject: Automatons

Mathilde -

When I was a child my grandmother had a massive nativity which she would set up on the hearth. Because I begged her, and because it became tradition, she left the twinkle lights on when she went to bed. As I slept on the couch, I could see the Holy Family through my half-closed eyes—I would drift off, then awaken, and each time I awoke again the blinking lights would give the momentary illusion that these figures were moving. Sometimes they became my family - sometimes just anonymous people who loved me, once - though of course I never told my grandmother, or the priest, about it - once I awoke and I was the child in the manger. The looks on the faces of the Virgin, and the shepherds, were so full of love. After a few seconds, the illusion would fade, and I would find myself drifting off again. But every time, before I started to go too deep, I would awaken again, and once again the illusion that there was a warm, loving circle - a family - surrounding me. I don’t know which was more convincing - the feeling of well-being brought on by that momentary illusion, or the feeling of bottomless melancholy when the illusion faded. I would sleep fitfully. When it was morning, I awoke with the certainty - a certainty extremely difficult to dispel - that the world was peopled by automatons.

Rodrigo

Betrayal in the 14th Century (and the Present)

2007-04-16T22:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it’s important to be reminded that our petty personal dramas are utterly insignificant in the face of history. The plight of the Tzombi exerts a pull on me which helps me forget mundane day-to-day squabbles and reminds me that I serve a larger goal. In that spirit, I present more history:

When the Black Death spread through Europe, certain populations were unaffected. The Tzombi were the most visible of this plague-immune group. Since Tzombi kept their houses dark, the windows of the Pre-Deceased population were covered with shutters and heavy draperies. The Tzombi were loath to take baths, because this hastened the deterioration of their skin. The Pre-Deceased also adopted these measures. Though we don’t have any Tzombi-written memoirs (no blood circulation leads to poor eyesight, which makes them averse to writing for long periods) we do have an account from Agnolo di Tura, called the Fat, from Siena.

The ashen ones, called the Luccini, were selected by the Magistrates and were bestowed with a thousand gold florin each that they were to spend on the poor sick and to bury the poor dead. And it is found that at this time there died in Siena 36,000 persons 20 years of age or less, and the aged and other people died, to a total of 52,000 in all in Siena. And in the suburbs of Siena 28,000 persons died, so that in all it is found that in the city and suburbs of Siena 80,000 persons died. But of the Luccini there were but few victims.

As soon as the plague was over, however, some began to turn against the Tzombi, believing that their immunity to the disease suggested that they were responsible for causing it. In Strasbourg, many were tried and tortured, and despite the Tzombi race’s relative indifference to pain, a few confessed:

Balavignus the grey, a wight and inhabitant of Thonon, was only placed on the rack a short time, and his bones did crack such that when he was taken off his gait was uneven and his wrist did hang limply from the tender sinews; and he confessed that he had been sold poison in a sewn leather bag, and he was ordered on pain of ban and in obedience of law to put the same poison into the larger and smaller wells of his town; he stated that the color of the poison was red and black and did resemble muscerdae.

In 1380, there followed lynchings in several towns by an anti-Tzombi vigilante society who called themselves the Boniti. Di Tura includes a description of one:

These four the Boniti dragged out of their houses and cut off their heads. And the mayor caused their heads to be set upon poles and carried before the king. And when the king saw the heads he did greet them and the heads were known to have greeted back for a day and a night. And the king thanked the mayor warmly for what he had done. But when the second morning dawned the heads were without life.

I confess that I’ve been thinking a great deal over the past several days about betrayal, how people can turn against you for no reason other than ignorance and an unwillingness to bend their minds and wills into something good and kind. No one is impervious to pain, not even the Tzombi.

My Heart and Soul

2007-04-12T11:20:00.000-07:00

K. and I are now sharing a cubicle. It seemed like the logical next step, as we are so like-minded in our working habits. Our research is going extremely well; I wouldn’t be surprised if we were promoted to positions of higher authority within the company. Though I normally don’t put my heart and soul into mere “day jobs,” K. has made me reconsider this policy. I feel a sense of joy simply being near her.

Tzombi Consciousness and Other Matters

2007-04-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

I apologize if my last post offended anyone. While I try valiantly to keep emotion out of my entries, it seems to creep in anyway, like the voles at night in my office, chewing through my heart as if it were nothing more than a pulsing collection of live wires.

In any case, I’m happy to report that certain imposters have disappeared into the proverbial woodwork.

And now I can return to more serious matters.

I would like to publish a brief excerpt from Dr. Teresa Morgan’s article in Sentience: A Journal of Consciousness from March 20th, 2004 entitled “Dead or Alive? The Post-Deceased Consciousness”:

The zombie psyche is a study in contradictions. Though technically dead, high-functioning zombies are in general more emotionally alive and sensitive than their Pre-Deceased counterparts and suffer from a range of emotional afflictions, including Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, and Dissociative Identity Disorder. Though most of them have lost their identities, they often have a more keenly developed sense of self, occasionally to the point of megalomelancholia. In the lower-functioning zombies no such afflictions are observable, though it may be possible to draw parallels between the sheer will to exist -- a will which doesn’t even take into consideration the possibility of suicide -- and the will of the higher-functioning.

Dr. Morgan has an interesting background in that she started out counseling veterans, specializing in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder treatment. Her even-handed, compassionate documentation (totaling 13 journal articles in the past five years) of Tzombi psychology has gone a long way in “normalizing” the field. I have sent her some of my own research and hope that we may open a dialogue in the very near future.

Cotard's Syndrome and the Swirling Black Void

2007-03-21T23:24:00.000-07:00

K. and I had a wonderful evening at a reception for a new exhibit at the Museum of Jurassic Technology last night. In case anyone is wondering, I think this relationship is definitely serious. It has erased all memories of previous relationships.

By the way, since some of you have asked, I’d like to post some pertinent scientific information about Cotard’s Syndrome. It is a condition – a mental illness – in which a person believes she has died and become a walking corpse. The delusion is often so persistent, she believes she can smell her own flesh rotting, that she can feel worms crawling through her skin, that she is putrefying, and that she has lost her blood and organs and is merely a shadow in this earthly existence.

I feel it would be remiss at this point to not share some details about a certain participant in my study (for the sake of the blog we will call her Mathilde). When I asked her about sensations relating to the “swirling black void,” she responded:

I’m drawn to it, even though it wants to destroy me. 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. What is it that keeps me moving, even though I am dead? It is the void.

As you will note, this mental delusion is quite serious, not only for the victim, but for anyone who crosses the victim’s path and becomes emotionally entangled with the victim.

Lives have been ruined by far simpler things.

Geophagy in the Non-Living Community

2007-03-12T22:14:00.000-07:00

To answer a question posted in the comments section of the previous entry: yes, I was once acquainted with a young woman who indulged in the practice of dirt-eating.

Dirt-eating in the rural south and among the Tzombi population is a complex phenomenon and worthy of an entire paper of its own. The literature presents us with a number of conflicting testimonies about the “mud eaters”: it is sometimes difficult to separate racist propaganda and cultural bias/misunderstanding from disinterested observation; what we do know is that the earliest known reference to the “mud eaters” is in the aforementioned Kish stele.

The next mention comes from the diary of Agnolo di Tura in his 1347 A.D. plague remembrance. There is also an abundance of documentation regarding dirt eating among slaves in the rural south in the United States; because many American slaves came from various related regions through whatever circuitous route, it seems probable that the dirt eating which persists in the rural south was spread by this means. Whether dirt eating is a legitimate practice among the Tzombi population remains to be seen.

Of course, there are also members of the Living Community who still consume dirt, even in modern times. Here, from the White Dirt website:

Some people have actually been known to consume White Dirt regularly and not only like the taste but crave it. It has been said that the taste of white dirt is akin to the fresh way that the ground smells when it's real dry and a little sprinkle of rain falls. Dirt-eating is an ancient tradition that is practiced all over the world and although the demise of the practice has been predicted for many years, it still persists, particularly in rural areas of the South.

Aside from psychopathology (see aforementioned Soil Pica link), there are also possible medical reasons for dirt-eating. One may simply be that, though the need for eating has ceased, the habit continues, and dirt requires no digestion. In some African cultures, dirt eating is practiced among pregnant women, and medical studies have shown that it helps in producing antibodies. Since the post-deceased body is essentially a new life-form with a known susceptibility to certain viruses, it’s entirely possible that dirt-eating functions as a means towards increasing resistance.

Brahmagupta and the Void

2007-03-06T23:11:00.000-08:00

A small setback today: another letter to the Center for the Study of the Living Deceased has been returned, unopened. How they can simply ignore my research is beyond human understanding. Adding insult to injury, the Sheriff’s Department rejected my request to conduct a seminar for the officers on Tzombi tolerance (this, despite their so-called public relations campaign to promote tolerance in the greater Los Angeles area).

Doubters and racists can turn a blind eye and pretend that the Tzombi race never existed. Meanwhile I am gathering a mountain of evidence which will soon be impossible to ignore.

I cite as an example the account of Sir Arthur Crawley, writing his Lives of the Mathematicians in the early 1800’s, who brings to light a few facts about the Indian mathematician Brahmagupta which might otherwise have been lost to the ages.

Brahmagupta’s major contribution to mathematics was in treating zero as a number in its own right, and in establishing a set of rules for working with negative numbers. Sir Crawley describes a near-fatal rodent attack which had Brahmagupta laid up for a number of days, presumed dead. He writes:

Upon recovery, Brahmagupta refused all nourishment and devoted
the lion’s share of his time in contemplation of the “cow’s udder,”
the large crater near his home town of Ujjain, which exerted a peculiar
fascination on him.

A rare order form—rare because of the scarcity of paper at the time but presumably necessary due to its unusual nature—details Brahmagupta’s request for a “black bowl, the lip of which is a zero and which, when set upright, represents a fortune, and which when set downright, represents a debt.” The bowl has never been discovered and is presumed destroyed, but several artists’ renditions have been created. I regret that I have been unable to secure the permission to use these images on this blog; however I have attempted with my own hand (a hand not untried in illustration) to render them:

1) Fortune (in Positive Numbers):

2) Debt (in Negative Numbers):

3) A View from Above:

Not surpringly, six months after the date of the order slip, Brahmagupta completed his Brahmasphutasiddhinta, or “The Opening of the Universe.”

Cultivating a Social Life

2007-03-01T14:11:00.000-08:00

Though it may seem like I spend all of my time working, I’ve actually been cultivating an active social life. What good is dwelling on the pain of past relationships? I’m certainly not so thin-skinned and pathetic as to be rattled by faux-commenters who might be trying to exploit a perceived weakness.

In FACT, I’m in a new relationship with a lovely co-worker named K. She’s so full of life, so very charming and good at her job. I feel like a whole new man, in case any of you were wondering. So you can stop with the taunting e-mails now. I am rubber and you are glue and anything you write to me simply goes one ear and out the other.

Zombies and the Adolescent Imagination

2007-02-26T12:51:00.000-08:00

I was recently cited in an article in Sociological Review entitled “Zombies and the Adolescent Imagination.” I reprint a portion here for the benefit of some of our readers (you know who you are):

The zombie film, as a pop-culture artifact, reveals a great deal about the interior lives of male adolescents. If we look to De Walters’ study of marginalized male adolescents, (“The Lost Boys,” Journal of Pediatrics, Mar. 1971) we find abundant comments relating to sexual confusion and feelings of being unlovable or unloved. Often these comments take a turn towards subjects’ claiming to feel “disgusting” or “gross.” Yet these same adolescents claim an insatiable sexual drive, and therefore their nascent sexuality takes the form of a shambling, blind beast, which must “eat brains” no matter what the cost. The fact that zombies eat brains rather than genitals indicates that what these boys really crave is an emotional connection with a romantic partner, while simultaneously feeling unworthy of such a connection, because of their “gross,” mutating bodies. That these same boys obsessively fear a future in which they become mindless working-class drones highlights their abhorrence of and attraction to the zombie figure.

Another Disappointment

2007-02-23T18:21:00.000-08:00

A bit of disappointing news today:

Dear Mr. Weiss –

Thank you for your inquiry regarding the Dorothy Chandler Lecture Series. At this time, we are no longer accepting applications to participate in the series. I am enclosing your proposal for “On the Evolution of Tzombi Culture in late 20th Century Los Angeles and Surrounding Counties” and the supporting materials that you submitted.

Good luck.

Sincerely,
M. Dresser
Assistant to Angela Frond

I believe I made reference in an earlier entry to the costs of pursuing truths which, for whatever reason, the Academic community would rather not hear. The letter above is an example of the professional cost, but there is a personal cost as well. I bring this up not because I feel sorry for myself, nor because I wish to apologize for past behavior, but because I wish to demonstrate my devotion to the Tzombi race, whose plight is larger than my relationship problems.

A certain individual has been posting personal e-mails in the comments section from a relationship which, for reasons which are unrelated to this blog, ended some years ago. Because this individual has a history of mental illness (Cotard's Syndrome) and is, I believe, reaching out for help, I do not want to cut off contact.

As these e-mails have no bearing whatsoever on this blog, please disregard them.

Tar Pits

2007-02-22T11:11:00.000-08:00

Another excursion! Yesterday, I spent the afternoon at the George Page Museum, otherwise known as The La Brea Tar Pits. Such glorious remnants of a time we were not present for! Dedicated archaeologists spend every day excavating bones from the sticky pits of tar – mice, birds, saber-toothed tigers, dire wolves and mammoths. I spoke with one of the docents to find out if any human remains had been recovered from the tar – in particular, remains that suggested a post-deceased existence – but the docent referred me to the desk manager, who referred me to the security guard, who suggested I might take a turn in the gift shop. In any case, I now have a wonderful little keychain that reads STUCK ON FOSSILS! I think J. will get a kick out of it. My spirits are high.

Further Troubles with the Management

2007-02-20T10:36:00.000-08:00

I made a brief excursion to Bakersfield over the three-day weekend. When I returned, I found that my office had not been cleaned. This is the sixth week in a row that a cleaning crew has skipped over my snug office. While I'm an exceptionally neat worker, I often engage in archive research/retrieval that results in a great deal of dust.

Following my eighth letter to the Property Management Company, I received this e-mail response:

Mr. Weiss:
We don’t clean your office, as per orders of the owener [sic].
The Management.
P.S. Stop writing.

I wrote back asking if there were someone to whom I could direct my frustration, and I received the following:

Hey Zombi [sic] guy:
Like I said, orders of the owener [sic]. What, a little dirt bothers a creep like you?
The Management
P.S. What part of STOP WRITING didn't you under-stand?

Needless to say, I have contacted a lawyer who feels I have the beginnings of a proper discrimination case.

Virus R428: A Three-Case Report

2007-02-17T11:49:00.000-08:00

In my fervor I forgot to post the promised article. Here is the abstract:

Virus R428: A Three-Case Report

ABSTRACT: Seven years after the identification of R428 in victims suffering from Post-Mortem Mobility Syndrome its status as virus still remains in question. The presence of R428 in Pre-Decease individuals remains hypothetical. Detection of auto-immune response to R428 in Post-Decease individuals remains controversial, as the sample size is extremely small.

In the present study we examine the ways in which the structure, behavior, and possible function of R428 differ from that of a typical virus. In structure it resembles a virus save for its three polypeptide chains; in behavior it appears to bond with immunoglobulins but is not immobilized by them; in function, its presence is accompanied by a high presence of junk DNA “bundles”, which have been created by the process of agglutination.

Refusing a Marginalized Status

2007-02-16T10:33:00.000-08:00

For those of you who haven’t been following the rather heated discourse in the comments section of previous posts, I would like to highlight a portion of an article which is in dispute. The article (Virus R428: A Three-Case Report) was published in the December issue of the Hippokratika and was later retracted, with the implication that the study was discredited because of tainted samples.

Those of us in Academe, however, know of the pressure which can be applied when one’s studies do not comply with established (some might say ossified) beliefs.

I count my marginalized status as a badge of honor; it is representative of the marginalized status of those I study. I do not complain that the CSLD at CCS chose to deny me access to the department DESPITE the fact that I am certain they are using my research (submitted as part of my application) to apply for grant money. The resistance of the Academic community in general to a worldview which would place the Tzombi at the center of world events -- their rightful place – is only indicative of the pressing need for systemic changes in modes of teaching. Their method has been to pathologize tzombism by claiming it is caused by a virus. If true, a virus is responsible for some of the crowning achievements of civilization.

They cannot, and will not, marginalize us! The truth will come out!

The Botanica Mystere

2007-02-14T11:05:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I took an excursion (for research purposes) to a small shop in Hollywood called Botanica Mystere. The proprietor is an interesting woman named Esperanza; she claims to have an expertise in unconventional homeopathic and spiritual remedies for common Tzombi ailments. I gently pressed her for some detailed information, but she was sufficiently vague about her training and history. I broached the subject of the fallacy of the R428 virus, but she was completely disinterested in the debate that rages over the subject.

She did, however, sell me a CD, which sounds an awful lot like Native American folk music, but which she claims to have recorded on an island in the South Pacific while shipwrecked with a cocker spaniel and a rock band several years ago. I cannot verify the information, despite my efforts, and I therefore must use my dispassionate scientific eye to cast only a skeptical glance at her claims of “Tzombi knowledge.”

I will say that Esperanza has a wonderful selection of incense and shell necklaces in the store (located on Vine Street, very near a hat shop). Perhaps the excursion was worth it in the end, not because I found a like-minded individual to discuss Tzombi culture with, but because I have discovered Juice Fountain! Juice Fountain is the most wonderful little hole-in-the-wall shop two doors down from the Botanica. I ordered a wonderful fresh juice made of watermelon, orange, potato and basil, a combination that my grandmother loved. They didn’t bat an eye at the request.

I adore fresh juice and I will return.

The Swirling Black Void: An Examination

2007-02-12T10:01:00.000-08:00

A comment from my new friend Cullen:

“Another thought I had last night before retiring to bed (I get all my best thoughts right before falling asleep): Have you considered that the “horrenda caribdis” on the Magnus woodcut we talked over is a reference to THE VOID that so often appears in zombie art?”

Cullen refers here to the “horrenda caribdis,” the Maelstrom, on the lower right of the Olaus Magnus woodcut, detailed in a previous post:

He compares it to the “void” described in many Tzombi testimonies as written about by Dr. Teresa Morgan through her work in Personality Reclamation using hypnotic regression. Her article in Sentience: A Journal of Consciousness 36, no 3 which describes the unique plight of the post-deceased, many of whom (87% by her count) have lost touch with their former lives. A quote:

One recurring motif in regression is the “swirling black void” or “vortex” which, if the subject is able to remember anything at all about his/her pre-decease existence, is the sole memory.

One subject had a very particular experience of this void -- a “vision,” if you will, while under hypnosis:

I saw a…black mass…which drew me to it. It was alive and…kind of—howling? But ‘howling’ isn’t the right word, because it was like everything was howling. Like a black hole would pull you apart if you fell into it? This was like a mental black hole. I could feel it would pull my thoughts apart-rip them right out of my head.

Compare this to my graduate work in which a small percentage of those experiencing NDE’s (Near Death Experiences) mentioned the “swirling black void”(Published in Thoughts on Thought: An Anthology of Consciousness, Brain Burst Books, 1992.)

At the time, I hypothesized this void to be the inverse of the commonly described “tunnel of light,” After years of studying the Tzombi, however, I am prepared to suggest another cause, the two of which need not be mutually exclusive: this “void” may be a genetic memory of the Black Rock of Cybele (or Assyrian Cenotaph, for those of you of Ashmolean bent) which imprinted itself on the DNA of the Tzombi race.

A 'Zine for the Zeitgeist

2007-02-07T08:32:00.000-08:00

I forgot to share one of my newly acquired treasures from the excursion to the Tzombi Gallery. After J. did not return from her trip to the ladies room (she decided to catch the #2 Sunset home, apparently), I struck up a conversation with a young woman named Monique, who purported to be distributing a ‘zine for her boyfriend, Ivan. She signed me up for a mailing list and sold me an edition of AMERICAN ZOMBIE:

I’m not quite sure what to make of this strange bit of pop culture. Is it art? Or an insensitive mockery of the Tzombi community? I choose to believe the former.

In any case, I look forward to adding it to my collection and performing further study.

Tzombi Rennaisance in Los Angeles

2007-02-05T07:06:00.000-08:00

As a peace offering, I took J. to a gallery show last night, another wonderful example of the Tzombi renaissance here in Los Angeles. J. seemed more interested in the free wine and cheese cubes, but I was quite taken with an artist named Glen, whose work is comprised of wonderful, vicious swirls that he has proudly entitled Void 1.1, Void 1.3, Void 1.5.

Though J. left halfway through the evening, I had the good fortune of meeting Cullen Preys, the Assistant Curator of the show. We spoke about the renaissance of Tzombi culture in the Los Angeles area and traded thoughts on a series of Olaus Magnus woodcuts that were on exhibit at the Natural History Museum last month (see my previous post entitled FROM HERE TO GREENLAND AND BACK).

Cullen has a wonderful mind and an open heart, and I hope that we might continue our fascinating exchange of ideas in the near future. First and foremost is that I would like to persuade him to change his e-mail address to read “Tzombi Gallery” rather than “Zombie Gallery.”

The Black Rock of Cybele Redux

2007-02-02T17:08:00.000-08:00

Thank you, thank you, Papillonnoirs, for emailing a fascinating article from the London Times, circa 1912:

August 10, 19XX
The London Times

An ancient stone, dating from 2000 B.C. and described as an Assyrian Cenotaph, is currently on display at the Ashmolean Museum before being returned to its origins in Arabia.

For almost twenty years the cenotaph has been in the museum, but neglected. The tablet had, indeed, been catalogued, but, apparently, this had been done from a cursory examination, for it had been placed in a cardboard box, covered with a glass top, and marked “burial stone.” When finally tended to, it was found that the stone had been nibbled at by rodents.

The Cenotaph is quite 4,000 years old, but whence it came from, and which expedition uncovered it, is still subject for investigation. That it was of great antiquity when the Book of Genesis was written is agreed, and that was at least 2,800 years ago.

Papillonnoirs, this is almost certainly the Black Rock of Cybele! Part of my difficulty in tracing it is no doubt due to my designating it thus, while the museum had been designating it by the generic (and faulty) heading of Cenotaph. A Cenotaph is a burial stone, and while this might be an understandable mistake for a layperson to make, for the curator of a museum dealing in antiquities it is inexcusable, as is the neglect shown.

The Abbey of St. Denis

2007-01-31T07:23:00.000-08:00

If one need any more proof of the capability of the Tzombi to engage in spiritual endeavors, one need only look to the example of St. Denis Abbey.

In 1132 A.D., the reconstruction of the Abbey of St. Denis, the first truly Gothic cathedral, seems to have benefited enormously by of Tzombi labor. The legend of St. Denis was one which would have appealed to the Tzombi population—he was sent to Gaul between the years 236 and 250 C.E. to help restore the Catholic Church, but the heathen priests eventually executed him and his companions. The Golden Legend relates it this way:

bespit and despised…beaten cruelly of twelve nights…stretched all naked upon the coals of fire…and anon the body of S. Denis raised himself up, and bore his head between his arms, as the angel led him two leagues from the place, which is said the hill of the martyrs.

Whether or not St. Denis was actually a member of the Tzombi race (and I hesitate to speculate on this with no data to support it), his abbey was a natural place of pilgrimage for the Tzombi population of France, and they were employed in building the cathedral. They would have been ideal laborers. But there is evidence that at least one Tzombi laborer made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater glory: the Golden Legend goes on to recount how, for nearly a decade after the completion of the abbey, the “foolish virgin” on the Northwest frieze was heard to knock at the door to the “Celestial City.” This might, of course, have been a typical miracle tale meant to draw people to the abbey -- early advertising if you will, if it weren’t for the fact that an X-ray of the wall taken during a restoration in the 1980’s revealed a skeleton walled up behind the sculpture. A murder, an accident, or a Tzombi volunteer, sacrificing himself for the “Miracle of the Knocking Virgin?”

Inner Lives of the Tzombi: Real or Imagined?

2007-01-29T13:16:00.000-08:00

The assumption of certain raving genocidal maniacs seems to be that the Tzombi have no inner lives, an assumption I have proven patently false in my work in the area of philosophy. Recall the earlier quotation from ‘Mathilde’:

"…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."

Although ‘Mathilde’ maintained that she was not a member of the Tzombi race, her comments are nevertheless consistent with Dr. Theresa Morgan’s findings in her studies on the Tzombi psyche, and give a good indication of the spiritual capacity of the Tzombi.

Temporary Absence of Late

2007-01-28T19:13:00.000-08:00

Apologies, Dear Readers, for my absence of late. I assure you, it was not by choice that I withdrew, but was merely a symptom of circumstances beyond my control. A minor scuffle at work, involving some characters you are familiar with (but who shall remain nameless), resulted in a temporary transfer to the Long Beach branch of the company I am temporarily consulting for. In addition to the extra commute, I was mysteriously locked out of my own computer at the Herald Building. A password glitch, apparently (I choose not to believe it was sabotage).

Fear not, all is well again. I am back at work in the Los Angeles office. I have regained access to my files and my equipment. The heat still isn’t working, but luckily, the cold snap has ended for the time being.

I will resume posting tomorrow afternoon.

On a personal note, I’d like to apologize publicly to J. Let’s not let things escalate again, shall we?

Thermostat, Redux

2007-01-15T14:12:00.000-08:00

Bad news: J. has returned and is watching the thermostat like a hawk. In an effort to ease tensions, I have posted a calendar in the break room which assigns thermostat control to employees on a rotating basis. Right now, as I type, a fellow employee who I won’t name is eyeing the calendar and attached petition as he sips his coffee. He obviously doesn’t want to be the first to sign. This may be a problem. Mob behavior rules in an office environment. Perhaps I should have approached each employee individually and filled the petition with signatures before presenting it to J., at which point she would have had no choice but to add hers.

Brains, An Illustrated History

2007-01-13T16:41:00.000-08:00

I would like to post the following illustration, thanks to an email from papillonnoirs (such a wonderful name -- it reminds me of Edith Piaf. Which song is that?):

At any rate, the illustration initially puzzled me -- one of hundreds of incorrect medical depictions of the brain (note the pomegranate-like cluster near the hypothalamus) which flourished in 17th century Britain. The assumption of medical historians has always been that there was one incorrect original drawn from an anomalous sample which was then copied and distributed to medical students, who in turn created their own copies.

After some thought, however, I remembered the words of Emma Pease, British crusader and suffragette, in her 1848 anti-vivisection pamphlet called An Outcry Against the Impediments, Defects, and Abuses Existing in the Present System of Medical Education, with Suggestions for Their Removal and Correction, which includes a rather curious mention of “other means by which to experiment on living tissue, which have been practiced these last hundred years.” She then goes on to write that “with such an excess of semi-sentient human subjects for surgical experimentation why must dumb animals continue to suffer?”

This could perhaps be overlooked if it weren’t for the fact that the London Medical Gazette ran the following ad for several months in 1848:

LIVING CADAVERS
For hire
For research and experimentation
Contact Mr. James Foley, 14 Pudding Lane, London

Further, a news story dated 1849 from Bell’s New Weekly Messenger recounts the arrest of Charlie “the Hound” Frobisher, a.k.a. James Foley, who was charged with numerous counts of human trafficking, counts which were later changed to illegal goods trafficking, for which he was jailed.

A little detective work leads us to the conclusion that the subject of the original illustration was a member of the Tzombi race.

Thank you, papillonnoirs, for your insight!

From Micronesia to the Shang Dynasty

2007-01-10T09:54:00.000-08:00

Much as I abhor some of the comments which are being posted, I feel that to exclude such comments from the blog would be to participate in the same sort of conspiracy of denial as the Academic/Scientific community. Because I hold this blog’s readers in such high esteem, I feel the best way to combat ignorance is to present all of the information available and let them decide for themselves exactly who is the raving genocidal maniac. I will not be shaken in my purpose. In this spirit, I would like to continue in my attempt to encapsulate the history of this race.

After the “mud eaters” were taken prisoner by the Amorites, many of them became refugees and scattered over an inland route through Asia, establishing footholds in several areas along the way. Some of them took to boats, and there is evidence that they reached Micronesia as early as 1800 B.C. and became known to natives as the Iyebu.

In China, they were incorporated into the Xia Dynasty, whose Emperor Zhong Kang recognized their potential as fierce warriors. When the Shang Dynasty came to power they were captured as prisoners of war and forced into subservient positions. The majority were occupied in building—many of the structures of the Shang dynasty (the capital at Zhengzhou, for example) were built out of stamped earth, which is created by having workers walk around earth that has been pressed into a large wooden frame until it becomes as hard as concrete. They excelled at this mindless task. How else to explain the otherwise indecipherable stanza from the 19th century erotic poet Qong Li?

My heart would beat
The unstoppable beat
Of a thousand stamping feet
Upon freshly dug palace walls.

Finally, from a Maogong tripod ceramic, inscriptions on the base of the object clearly depict a tzombi figure stamping the earth:

And a closer look here:

The Next Evolutionary Step in Human Existence?

2007-01-08T20:36:00.000-08:00

COMMENT (Jimson): Are you suggesting we eradicate those who suffer from the virus as well?

COMMENT (beagle): Yes.

COMMENT (Jimson): That would mean they would be dead again. Is this your suggestion?

COMMENT (beagle): My suggestion is to treat an unnatural state by eradicating the virus.

In my opinion, what some of my readers – and government officials, for that matter – are suggesting in demanding the eradication of those who suffer from the R428 virus is no less than genocide. Furthermore, genocide of a race which has contributed substantially to world culture. All of the credentials in the world cannot justify this. And again, I must reiterate that the virus has not been established as the cause of PMMS. In the past it was held that there were races of immortals. Given the close correlation with PMMS and immortality, is it too outrageous a claim to suggest that PMMS may be the next evolutionary step in human existence? Wouldn’t it be arrogant of science to reject accepted wisdom by claiming that immortality is caused by a virus?

What “beagle” is suggesting is to deny the human race immortality. If it were millions of years ago, he might have denied us binaural hearing, or color vision. Further, I have a feeling I know who “beagle” is and he’s just bitter because he wasn’t asked to participate in the documentary.

A Reader Weighs in with Evidence

2007-01-05T22:14:00.000-08:00

TRASHING HISTORY

“The mourning becomes unbearable,” writes Piotr Denisovich, a professor of Near East Studies at the University of Michigan, to other scholars.

“At my desk I keep a photo of a woman’s head made of marble, whose empty eyes have stared back since I first took this post. This amazing mask has survived for more than 5,000 years. Now, approximately 170,000 objects—vases, figurines, stele, statues, cups, diadems, and clay tablets—have been savagely ripped from their shelves and have very likely disappeared forever. Who is going to replace them?”

Though there may not be a direct answer to Denisovich’s question, a current investigation directed by the Hague has called a few to account, among them billionaire Ivo Kashoggian, who has been accused of purchasing antiquities from looters.

Though Kashoggian could not be reached for comment, a spokesperson issued the following statement: “Nine-tenths of the world’s antiquities have been acquired through non-traditional means. Every collector from the Medicis to the British Museum has, at one time or another, whether deliberately or mistakenly, acquired an antiquity through illegal means.”

Kashoggian is only the highest-profile of those who have been placed under investigation by the Hague. The course of his trial will no doubt set a precedent for the manner in which those who have been connected to antiquities looting will be brought to justice.

San Francisco Chronicle, April 21, 2003

Thank you, papillonnoirs, for this illustration of what can happen to the world’s treasures when those in charge are spoiled brats with no reverence for history. No doubt the woman’s head mentioned would have languished on some pillar in Kashoggian’s obscene temple to his own greed. The people own these treasures! Try as they might, those in power can not take them away from us!

The Journey of the Black Rock

2007-01-04T09:21:00.000-08:00

A concerned reader has inquired about the current whereabouts of the Black Rock of Cybele:

I’ve heard that lots of Sumerian antiquities disappeared during the looting of Iraq. Is it possible the Black Rock of Cybele was one of them?

I can assure all of you that it did NOT disappear in the looting of Sumerian antiquities after the commencement of the war in Iraq. I’ve traced the journey of the Black Rock from ancient Babylonia where it later found its way to Persia but was given to the Anatolian explorer Strabo as a gift for the emperor Tiberius. When Tiberius died, some of his possessions languished in poor storage, owing to his unpopularity as a ruler. We have a record of the neglect which occurred in Suetonius’ biography of Tiberius:

“The people were so glad of his death, that at the first news of it some ran about shouting, ‘Tiberius to the Tiber,’ while others prayed to Mother Earth and the Manes to allow the dead man no abode except among the amend. His possessions languished and the great statue the Apollo of Temenos was toppled and his legacy was scattered among his heirs and the public alike.”

Zoinky will recall that an anti-Tzombi graffiti was found near the site of Tiberius’ death. Alas, we have no record of what happened to the Black Rock in particular.

Historical Fact becomes Myth

2007-01-02T09:45:00.000-08:00

In an earlier entry, I told the story of Agdistis, who gave birth to the goddess Cybele. The “Black Rock of Cybele” has become something of a grail for those of us who study the Tzombi community, since it disappeared from the palace of the Roman emperor Tiberius and has yet to reappear. This is unfortunate, as the Black Rock is thought to have cosmic origins, and may be the same which fell in the Hé-Gál Valley around 2500 B.C., destroying all the vegetation there and poisoning the Tigris river. The valley became known as the Hur-sag Uq, or the Valley of the Dead.

A couple of hundred years later, a Semite known to history as Sargon the Greatcrossed this valley with his army, bringing with him a black rock. The Kish Stele describes Sargon and his army were described as being “covered in ashes” because of their pallor. It also rechristens the Valley of the Dead as the Valley of the Living Ashes. Sargon established hold of the Sumerian city of Kish, destroying all of his enemies. He claimed to be directly descended from Cybele. The center of worship for Cybele became the black stone, which was enshrined at Pergamum (see entry entitled “Persecution and Fear” 11/28/06 for more on Cybele).
Eventually the Sumerians were overrun by the Amorites, and they disappeared as a recognizable race. Those that survived were taken to Babylonia, where they are referenced in the Enuma Elish, the Babylonian epic of creation, and demonized as conquered cultures typically are. Because there was no food to be found in Sumer when the Amorites conquered, and no cooking utensils, and no cooking pots, the Sumerians earned the title of “mud-eaters”, and mud came to be considered the food of the dead in Babylonian mythology. The fourth tablet of the Enuma Elish recounts the wholesale slaughter of the Sumerians, where it says of Marduk, the Babylonian hero:

The four winds he stationed so that nothing of
the mud-eaters might escape;
The South wind and the North Wind and the East wind
and the West wind
And the fourfold wind, and the sevenfold wind, and
the whirlwind, and the wind which has no equal;
He sent forth the winds which he had created, the seven
Of them;
And scattered the mud-eaters to the lands beyond the sea;
He severed their inward parts, he pierced their hearts,
Their heads he burst like ripening fruit
He cast down their bodies and stood upon them
Their might was broken, their host scattered.

Astute readers will probably recognize that the story of the Valley of the Dead found its way into the Old Testament, where it was converted into a prophecy of the regeneration of the house of Israel in Ezekiel’s vision of dry bones coming to life. So the story passed from historical fact into legend and then myth and then prophecy.

2007 Arrives

2007-01-01T13:43:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year. Though my trip into the desert was unsuccessful (I got lost on the way to Ridgecrest, then experienced some car trouble), I spent a lovely holiday at the Best Western in Lancaster.

In any case, I look forward to getting back on track with the blog (I fear my postings have wandered into “personal” territory, something I vowed I would not subject my loyal readers to).

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

2006-12-22T12:13:00.000-08:00

Since my grandmother passed away, I haven’t felt much like celebrating the holidays. But a new city requires a new outlook on life. Therefore, in order to celebrate the Winter Solstice, I will be closing down the office (so to speak) until the New Year arrives. I’ve purchased a dozen cupcakes from a local bakery and will be driving out to the high desert to do a little research (nothing relaxes me more than working) and stargazing. I will be searching for some petroglyphs that may shed some light on early tzombi migration patterns in the state of California (long before it was officially a state, obviously).

In any case, happy holidays to all my faithful Readers. See you in the New Year!!

Rodrigo

R428: Virus or Genetic Mutation?

2006-12-20T17:11:00.000-08:00

I’d like to address, more firmly, this idea of R428. I understand that certain readers have been brainwashed by the establishment, as evidenced in this comment left by a concerned citizen:

Are you a scientist? Because I trust SCIENCE. Not science fiction. If those doctors say that zombies are created by contracting R428, then we should f*cking study R428! Are you out of your mind? We need a vaccine now! We need funding NOW. I suppose you think AIDS might be caused by sucking moldy lollipops or something. What possible reason would the Academic Institutions have for cooking up some half-baked theory? R428 is a REALITY. Your “theories” are nothing short of treasonous.

Reader, this is what they’d like you to believe. Those in the Academic establishment are resistant to the idea of the Tzombi as a race because it would mean they’d have to adjust their thinking. As a result, they have attempted to pathologize the Tzombi to deprive them of racehood. What they won’t admit to is this: there are several theories currently in play regarding the origins of the Tzombi. I will repeat: the theory with which I choose to align myself, because it is the most scientifically plausible and is the most well-documented in text, is that which speculates that Tzombism is the result of genetic mutation on the order of standard evolution.

A Clarification on the Notion of the R428 Virus

2006-12-18T18:11:00.000-08:00

I would like to make it clear to my Readers that I do currently align myself with the position that PMMS is not caused by a virus, but is rather a genetic trait of a particular race. Of course, I am open to data that would alter this option, but none has been forthcoming. I am also open to working with a certified institution to call this data into question.

Earlier this year, the CSLD at CCD made an important step in parting ways with a Dr. Gloria Reynolds, who was an adamant proponent of the notion of R428 (she is now conducting her own research, God knows how she retains her funding). Alas, that’s as far as they went. Perhaps if I had joined the department, I could have contributed to a new direction for the research (I may re-start a letter campaign to see if I might make that idea a reality).

In any case, it’s clear that the Academic/Scientific cabal would prefer to continue to marginalize the Tzombi community by claiming their differentness is merely the result of a disease; furthermore, an article in Hippokratika clearly proved that the R428 “virus”, which is unlike anything we’ve seen thus far, actually has some of the properties of an antibody. It is also possible that the Tzombi are simply more susceptible to R428 — there are several precedents for this argument — Human Papilloma Virus affects European women more than others, for example, and Respiratory Syncytial Virus affects American Indians to a particularly high degree.

Therefore I maintain that the fact that they carry the virus does not prove that the virus causes their condition.

The Transition to a Tzombi State

2006-12-15T13:11:00.000-08:00

I have had several questions from readers regarding basic biological facts about the Tzombi population, namely how they come into existence and sustain a presence in the world.

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this is controversial subject matter. I, myself, am not a formally trained biologist or anthropologist, but I will do my best to explain.

As I have noted in past entries, Tzombi individuals have a condition known as Post Mortem Mobility Syndrome (PMMS). The syndrome is characterized by a technical “death” (cessation of normal respiratory, lymphatic, reproductive, and circulatory system function); an altered nervous, endocrine, and digestive system; a post-mortem consciousness and mental facility of varying degree.

Studies have shown that this syndrome is also characterized by the violent death of a human being – a death that involves an excess of adrenaline production, which in turn activates a dormant substance dubbed R428 – and the subsequent reanimation of that deceased human (in a period of 2 to 48 hours). The R428 then assumes control of the nervous system and establishes a baseline brain function, which in turn stimulates the skeletal, muscular and endocrine systems.

Mental faculties vary greatly; the modern classification for the levels of this brain function (established by the CSLD) are high-functioning, low-functioning, and feral.

In short, human beings transition into a tzombi state (via PMMS) by two means 1) they contract R428 by natural causes or 2) they contract it via blood to mucus contact in certain tzombi-human relations.

How people contract this R428 substance by natural causes is still a scientific puzzle. My own theories tilt towards a genetic evolution, but other theories assign blame to a virus or airborne pathogen.

(There is also a segment of certain fringe political communities that insist R428 is a government experiment gone awry, but I think my extensive historical timeline neatly puts that ill-conceived theory to bed. Even if, in fact, the government had somehow recreated an earlier genetic marker that resulted in the birth of a Tzombi population, I highly doubt it would bear any resemblance to the scenario outlined in the internet conspiracy film, UNCHAINED CONSEQUENCES)

Where the controversy arises, as you can imagine, is in the labeling of this R428 substance as a VIRUS, which in turn identifies it into a pathology. Classifying R428 as a disease is a slippery slope and is something that most certainly is used to discriminate against the Tzombi population on a variety of topics (as it has been for centuries). If we continue to treat the Tzombi population as something that could potentially be “cured,” are we not stripping away a piece of our own humanity?

Flying Sharp-Toothed Vermin

2006-12-13T13:56:00.000-08:00

For faithful readers of the blog (of which there are many, and I deeply thank you for your continued interest), I don't think the following picture (from today's edition of the NYTimes) requires any further explanation. Let me just say that while this particular image is an "imagining" of a mammal recently thought to have inhabited the earth many years ago, there is no question in my mind that these (chewing) creatures are responsible for the new holes in my ceiling:

From Here to Greenland and Back

2006-12-11T16:30:00.000-08:00

I’m happy to report that J. has been out of the office for several days with a sinus infection; therefore we’ve all been enjoying a wonderfully cool workplace. What a difference! I’ve realized that seventy-five degrees is simply too high a temperature for serious thought of the sort my research requires (what shall be done when J. returns is a matter for another day).

One needs only look at a list of world literatures and compare the vast bodies of literature of colder climates with the scant literature of the equatorial zones for an illustration of this. There is also evidence that Tzombi flourish in colder zones —because one of the characteristics of PMMS is a cessation of the bodily functions we associate with everyday life, they also have an inability to sweat, which makes life in the warmest climates unbearable, and which may provide another possible reason the Drunken Monkeys of Palau headed into the caves of Mt. Tmerou.

Of course, this brings up an interesting question: why do the Tzombi seem to flourish in a mild climate like that of Los Angeles?

But there is simply no disputing that one of the most successful Tzombi colonies was the one which flourished in Greenland for almost 400 years. In 986 A.D., Erik the Red set sail from Iceland to Greenland with an armada of 25 ships, only fourteen of which reached their destination. A ship’s log, frozen in a block of sea-ice, was later recovered by the colonists and copied verbatim into the Konungs Skuggsja, the “King’s Mirror” of 1250:

13 August. Events of the day brought dire circumstance; owing to dearth of provisions and uneasiness of spirit, Thorvald Thorvalsson, called the fat, endeavored to hoard what remained of the salt cod, upon which Eyjolf Ulfsson drew his knife and slashed the greedy limb, which action divided the men, and resulted in seven deaths from knife-wound. The bodies of the dead were thrown over the side of the boat, and number thus: Thorvald Thorvaldsson, Eyjolf Ulfsson, Sigurd Vifilsson, Saemond Saur, Thorvald Krakuson, Ingolf Thorbjornsson, and Gudrid Sigmundsdottir.

Though the ship never made it to Greenland, it appears some of the bodies did. Adam of Bremen, writing in his Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum, relates the “miracle of Eiriksfjord,” which occurred 97 years after the voyage, when five blocks of ice washed ashore with people “of bygonne dress” frozen inside them. When they were taken ashore for a Christian burial, the “miracle” occurred. Adam of Bremen describes: “Moreover, that the frozen came to life with the rejuvenating fire of Christ is not a fabulous fancy, but from the accounts of those present we know to be a fact.”

Though it’s entirely possible that this episode is fabricated -- there were frequent concerns on the mainland that the colonists were “going native,” and an account of a miracle would have assured the mainlanders that the colonists were still in God’s good graces -- we have the corroboration of a bizarre woodcut by Olaus Magnus, which depicts a fat man in outdated dress (possibly Thorvald Thorvaldsson?) frozen in what appears to be a block of ice:

And a closer look here:

Success!

2006-12-08T16:42:00.000-08:00

The documentary shoot was a wonderful success. Filmmakers Grace Lee and John Solomon came to the office with open minds and open hearts. I only regret that I didn’t have more time to spend with them; eight hours simply isn’t enough! I had the opportunity to detail quite a lot of Tzombi history and its relation to human civilization.

Ms. Lee did seem to be influenced by an interview she conducted with Dr. Gloria Reynolds; I hope that careful research will leave her no choice but to leave Dr. Reynolds on the cutting-room floor (that’s filmmaking terminology for leaving an interview out of the finished film). I pressed them for information about their interviews at the Center for the Study of the Living Deceased, but they declined to give me details. Something about filmmaker-interviewee privilege.

Most importantly, my office was clean (I hired a lovely woman from the janitorial staff at my temp job) and the power remained on and the mice didn’t show their pointy faces. A follow-up interview may be scheduled for a later date.

My Mind's Been Going Places Without Me Lately

2006-12-07T06:01:00.000-08:00

I had the strangest experience last night: I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of rustling paper and found myself sitting in front of my computer, having added several comments to my blog while asleep. These were of the most innocuous variety -- “good job”, etc. My studies in the History of Consciousness tell me that this must have been some sort of auto-hypnotic wish fulfillment -- we have all experienced the feeling of slipping into a trance while plopped in front of the television -- but I have never experienced this in front of the computer before. There is certainly a difference between this and the studies I did during my travels, which, even at their most sedentary, still involved the retrieval of books and the tactile sensation of flipping through their pages.

Perhaps I’ve been working too hard?

Los Angeles: Not a Wasteland

2006-12-06T13:34:00.000-08:00

Contrary to popular opinion, Los Angeles is not the cultural wasteland it is rumored to be. Rather, it is a strangely fractured conglomeration of high and low intellectual pursuits. For instance, as I pass my local coffee shop on the way to the subway each morning, I can’t help but chuckle at the aspiring screenwriters hunched over their computers, toiling (quite admirably) away at something that surely means so little. There are other types of artists here as well, like poets and painters and those clever mimes who paint themselves silver and gold and pop to music on the street corner. And models! Surely they are some type of postmodern-performance artists, contorting their bodies into wisps of nothing for our public entertainment. Amazing!

But aside from trivial creative pursuits (like entertainment or extreme sportz or craft fairs), there are pockets of scientists and historians pursuing their own sorts of creative endeavors (present company included). I’ve attended several fascinating lectures already, and I had nearly secured a place on a panel taking place in a few months. Unfortunately, plans to include the seminar Revelations of a Crypto-Anthropoid Race: The Tzombi and Their Hidden Roles in Civilization in the Getty Series of Distinguished Speakers have fallen through -- no doubt due to the controversial nature of the topic. The letter I received today was not unkind, but carried with it a palpable air of terror. I am certain there are some on the board who are afraid funding will be cut it anything too jarring is presented to the bluehairs and businessmen.

I am still awaiting a response from the Dorothy Chandler lecture series, which I understand to be more accommodating to risky projects. Yet this is indicative of the difficulty of the task I have set for myself—to bring the plight of the Tzombi to the attention of a wider audience.

The Last Golden Age

2006-12-04T08:21:00.000-08:00

Good Monday Morning to all!

I spent much of the weekend watching my new DVD set,Decisive Battles of the Ancient World, and thinking about the last Golden Age of the Tzombi, which took place in Greece some 2000 years ago.

I was hoping to delineate a few of the high points of the last Golden Age, which took place in Greece some 2000 years ago.

As the Gray Age came to an end, Tzombi philosophy enjoyed a certain vogue among the intellectual elite. Protagoras spoke of those from different backgrounds as sharing a common humanity. In 442 B.C. Rome there was a movement to abolish a law prohibiting marriage between the Zontanos and the Aperantos. Plato was inspired by staring into caves. Zeno of Citium created Stoicism, inspired by the Tzombi plight.

But the Tzombi didn’t really receive any of the benefits of this patronage. They were still slaves. In 135 – 71 B.C. a series of Tzombi slave revolts in Sicily, Asia Minor, and Rome led to mass destruction of the docile Tzombi race. In 1 B.C. Augustus Caesar passed laws forbidding consorting with the Tzombi.

Has anything really changed for the Tzombi? Here is a piece of anti-Tzombi graffiti I saw on a wall this morning:

When will it all end? When will a new Golden Age begin?

Important Interview on the Horizon

2006-12-02T07:16:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. Weiss,

I came across your blog while doing research for a new documentary I am producing on the zombie community in Los Angeles. My co-director John Solomon and I would love to meet with you to hear more about your research and see if you could contribute something to our film.

I would love to tell you more about the project and perhaps gain some insight into the local population of zombies.

You can reach me at this email, or at XXX-XXX-XXXX.

Very best wishes,

Grace Lee
American Zombie Productions

Good news to report!

Perhaps you’ll remember that I mentioned rumors of a documentary film crew at a Tzombi art show I recently attended. Well, this is a rumor no more. Yesterday, I was asked to participate in an independently produced documentary on the Los Angeles subculture of those exhibiting signs of PMMS (Post-Mortem Mobility Syndrome). As it is part of my mission statement to share my vast wealth of knowledge with others, you can imagine that I’m quite excited about the prospect of being interviewed. This is certainly a sign that this subculture – this “hidden race” – is about to enjoy a high profile. We have scheduled a date for later in the month, so I’ll let you know how it goes.

An Open Letter to the Person Who Tried to Burn Down My Apartment Building This Morning

2006-12-01T13:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Troubled Soul:

I awoke this morning to the smell of burning phone books and Rite-Aid advertisements. Lo and behold, it turns out you built a tower of broken chairs, cardboard boxes and recyclable papers in our laundry room and struck a match. Please believe me when I tell you that I understand the frustration that one can feel as a marginalized member of society. But lighting a building on fire is not the answer. More specifically, destroying perfectly nice washing machines and dryers is simply a waste of precious resources. Perhaps next time, you’ll take a cue from our Tzombi friends and stage an orderly protest or create an inspirational piece of art. True self-expression rarely involves arson.

Please seek help.

Your friend,

Rodrigo

Ongoing Thermostat War

2006-11-30T15:00:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-29T06:51:00.001-08:00

The view from my office window. Enjoy.

Persecution and Fear

2006-11-28T07:39:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-27T09:09:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-25T15:02:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-23T12:51:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-20T09:47:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-17T23:12:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-16T21:45:00.000-08:00

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'

2006-11-15T00:11:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-14T08:45:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-13T07:36:00.000-08:00

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'

2006-11-11T08:38:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-11-10T07:25:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-08T19:01:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-06T18:11:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-04T13:03:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-02T18:52:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-01T17:55:00.000-08:00

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).

Welcome

2006-10-31T18:51:00.000-08:00

At the urging of a respected colleague, I’ve decided to start posting some of my research and general musings with interested readers. It occurs to me that the electronic age we are currently experiencing gives me a window of opportunity to simultaneously reach out to academics, philanthropists, and amateur historians who might not be familiar with my expertise. Even though keeping this blog might take me away from my work, I feel it is my duty to carve out the time to share my knowledge with others.

This particular forum also gives me the freedom to disseminate information without incurring the mean-spirited attacks by ill-informed and narrow-minded “colleagues” that I experienced in my most recent foray into academia (I’m not naming names, but you know who you are, and may I remind you that jealousy is an ugly emotion and counter-productive to the advancement of every field of science).

In any case, I have recently relocated to the city of Los Angeles, California. My decision to come here was the result of many factors, among them a mild climate, an abundance of authentic Armenian food, and a well-established, relatively visible tzombi population (though not a well-documented one at this time). There is also a renowned academic institution that I am hoping to be a part of very soon, but I don’t want to jinx anything by blogging before my chickens have hatched.

I hereby welcome all Readers to my humble (but thoroughly engaging) corner of the internet. I look forward to an exciting exchange of ideas with all of you.