Comical Musings

I used to like having an October birthday. Not so much these days, though.

Back when I was a kid, October was the month when school finally hit its rhythm (and not just the marching band), when the weather was taking a proper turn for the pleasantly chilly, when you could wear sweatshirts and start drinking hot cocoa or herb tea without getting too warm — and, of course, the month ended with wearing costumes and getting candy. So having a birthday in the middle of all that was, if you’ll pardon the pun, the icing on the cake.

Nowadays, well. It’s zombies. Nothing but freaking zombies.

Vampires, of course, have been romanticized to (another?) death, werewolves and black cats are cursed with the lingering stench of furry, witches sued for protection under Title IX, and I guess no one has yet seen fit to gin up popularity for the calavera doll or the Headless Horseman. So for lack of alternatives (or imagination) it’s zombie this, zombie that, zombie-themed haunted houses, zombie-themed billboards, zombie-themed 5K charity runs, promotional stunts for BuyZombie.com* . . .

In short, the world is lousy with zombie paraphernalia**, and I’m stuck approaching my 27th birthday surrounded by depictions of rotting, mutilated corpses. What a delightful memento mori! I think I’ll forgo the raspberry filling in the cake this year.

*It’s an actual site, if you’re curious. Someone I know works there, unfortunately, so I even wind up with zombie-themed Facebook updates.
** And has been since mid-August. Eugh.