My wife and I live in a suburb, in the shadow of Pike’s Peak, not far from downtown. And not far from the famous Broadmoor Hotel. We don’t live in one of the mansions in the area. But we do live in what most people would say is a decent, middle class neighborhood. The sort of neighborhood that was once a place where you could work with your own hands, live a peaceable life, and avoid the rat race urban lifestyle.

But we’ve noticed zombies who want what you worked for with your own hands.

And anyone with even a whisper of wisdom can see how these zombies are up to no good. And yes, that’s judgmental of me. Of course it is. Because I’m able to use the brain and wisdom God gave me to discern when someone is up to no good. I’d hate to think I couldn’t make a proper judgment call when the evidence is so clear.

First, these zombies push stolen grocery carts, filled with trash (and maybe stuff off your porch), aimlessly up and down the sidewalks. Or alongside the street curbs. And those grocery carts cost anywhere from a little over $100 to hundreds of dollars. According to Colorado law (and it’s probably similar in other states) thefts in that range carry penalties of six months to one year in jail. And fines from $500 to $1000.

Naturally, the zombies will never pay those fines. Because, well, they only have whatever money they get from you. And many of them would probably welcome the jail time. Because then they’d have a nice, warm place to stay where they can get even more from you. Like three meals a day. Cable TV. Etc.

And those seemingly blank zombie stares conceal their purpose for being in our neighborhood. After all, what good could they possibly have in mind?

I seriously doubt they’re handing out presents from their carts.

No, they’re looking for your treasures. Or your neighbor’s treasures. And they’re looking for anything that’ll help them maintain their off-the-grid-in-plain-sight lifestyle.

But maybe you “love” them more than me. Maybe you think I’m harsh, uncaring, and unloving. And maybe it sounds like I don’t love my fellow man. If so, then maybe you disagree with God. He said “if anyone will not work, neither shall he eat.” So, don’t shoot me. I’m only the piano player. Take your complaints to God.

If you’re like me (and I hope you are), you’d like to know you can work with your own hands, produce goods and services for others, and take care of your family. And you’d like that to be the norm. And you’d like to know you can do that, peaceably, without wondering if some zombie is gonna sneak up on your porch at night. Or worse.

But you can thank all the enablers who increasingly make that a fading American pursuit. And for turning once thriving cities into the new badlands. The politicians who increase your taxes to line their own pockets and buy zombie votes. And the people who vote for such wicked excuses for human beings. Those same people who think handouts for zombies is love.

That’s not love.

And I’m an expert on love. No joke. Seriously, I am.

Because I’ve studied what true love is. And what true love does. Where true love originates.

And it most certainly does NOT originate in your heart. In fact, that could be the worst place to look for love.

No, my suggestion is this…

Get Wise

Don’t drink the wine of violence
Or eat the bread of hate.
You might just get away with it,
But can you afford to wait?

Don’t push and shove the simple.
Seek knowledge just like gold.
And in so doing you’ll lay up
Your treasures manifold.

A word to the confounded”
Pour light into your eyes.
If you expect more than neglect,
Get wisdom; yeah get wise.

Get wise to the deceiver.
Don’t harken to his lies.
Keep commanding understanding.
Get wisdom; yeah get wise.

Don’t walk, you, with the wicked.
Beware the scornful tongue.
Let never part your loving heart
And live forever young.

© 1995 Tony Funderburk

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