How To Beat Up Anything

This one is surprisingly simple.  And a perfect starting point for novice battlers.  I mean, we're just talking about a typical, run o' the mill, garden variety, traffic cone, right? 

Not a cone containing the souls of ten dead Apache warriors, reincarnated to punish mankind but mistakenly placed into a traffic cone instead of the cigar store Indian the cone was next to?  Not a sentient cone with teeny-tiny hands holding an adorable, yet lethal, matching orange derringer?  Not even a metal cone painted orange to look like a rubber cone?

Just a plain old, textbook, everyday traffic cone, right?

 

If you’ve been online even a little bit the past week you know one topic has been dominating the conversation. Namely, should the actions of a post-death, "Zombie" Abe Lincoln tarnish the many legislative achievements of his historic political career? My opinion? A little bit.

Not enough to erase all the good he once did, but c’mon, biting the face off a bus driver and six Italian tourists is not an easy thing to smooth over. That’s not an ideal situation, for even an alive politician, still in possession of his tongue and the power of speech, who could possibly defend the act. It’s hard to imagine that drooling, shambling, dull-eyed wreck of a thing as the once proud man who defeated the secessionist Confederate States of America in the Civil War. Seeing his jaws clamped onto the arm of that hapless hobo, it’s hard to conjure the brilliant orator who once fearlessly out maneuvered Stephen Douglas during the fabled Lincoln/Douglas debates... but there it is. When all is said and done -- and he’s once again beneath the ground where he belongs -- public opinion on him will have lowered slightly.

After a few more years, though, the actions of the past few weeks will settle into the background. The world will move on and eventually, Lincoln's zombie rampage will take its place as a minor footnote among the much longer list of many notable things he accomplished.

Which is as it should be. A man's post-death actions should not undo all the good he did while alive, any more than positive post-death actions should be able to erase the evil a man did before death. I mean, if Vampire Hitler came back tomorrow, ignored his impulses to drink human blood and focused entirely on children’s charity work and taking pledges for 10k runs benefiting animals in need, would it erase what he’d done when alive? No. I mean, sure, we’d applaud the effort, and certainly those kids could use some new school supplies and medicine, but he’d still be considered a huge dick. Same goes for "Friendly Ghost" Saddam Hussein (just being friendly isn’t enough, my man.) or Frankenstein’s monster Jack the Ripper, re-built and sent here to talk about autism. YES, it’s good to get the word out and educate people; NO it doesn’t undo your earlier legacy of terror.

Having settled that, let’s get to the fight.

Killing a Zombie Abe Lincoln will be easy. A zombie is a zombie. Zombie Abe Lincoln is no different than Zombie John Quincy Adams or Zombie Franklin Pierce. (I mean, as far as killing them goes. Politically speaking they were all over the map and not at all comparable) Even non-presidential zombies (zombies that were never elected president) are killed the same way. Simply destroy a significant part of the brain or separate the brain from the body. Use whatever’s around you. A sword, axe, or baseball bat will work. Or if you happened to have traveled back in time and are fighting Zombie Abe Lincoln during his era, the same rules apply. Use an old-timey sword, old-timey axe, or old-timey baseball bat. 

Again, that part's easy. The hard part will be living with your actions.

Living with the knowledge of what you’ve done to the animated corpse of a once great man, who when you squint, still kinda looks like honest Abe. It won’t matter that he’d been infected and devoured half the cul-de-sac before you stepped in. Not to you and not to the others.

Sleepless nights await you... Feverish dreams that erupt in wide-awake screams that startle your wife, and make her question just who it was she married lo those many years ago.

The disappointed stares of your children await you. Children who, in addition to attending school and learning of Abe’s great work during the Civil War, will now learn of how their father smeared his brain-craving head all over the front of the family Buick. A brain that once penned the Emancipation Proclamation.

The neighbors will hustle themselves from their car into their house a little quicker when they see you approach. The police and firefighters will be a little slower coming by when they spot your address on the ledger…

Eventually, years from now when you pass on, the neighborhood toughs will vandalize your tombstone, spray-painting a beard and top hat onto it. No one will care. Some will not understand the reference. Though when it is explained to them they will snicker. Heartily. 

You had to do it. Everyone knows that, and on some level they'll understand (Cats were disappearing, mailboxes were inexplicably covered in goo, people were really bummed out the few times a day they'd run into him...) but it won’t matter. A great leader was taken from us too soon, twice. And this time it was your fault.

 

                                                                      ****

Thanks to the great Fiona Staples for the Zombie Lincoln sketch. And thanks to commenter HyperText for the suggestion.

The mythical golem is a massive automaton formed out of dirt then brought to life through magic. Easily the most fearsome Jewish monster this side of Jerry Lewis.  It is, quite simply, the scariest thing a lump of clay can ever become.  Ash-trays, vases, and bowls don't even come close.  Not even those crafted using sexual chemistry, a potter's wheel, and a sad ghost.

Some say the only way to stop the golem is to place a scroll containing sacred words in its mouth, others, have never heard of it and get annoyed when you try to talk to them about golems. "I don't know," they'll say. "Please stop talking about monsters." "You're really creeping me out, and I'd just like to ride the bus in peace," they'll offer.  Hmmm in peace?  OR IN PIECES?  YOU THINK THIS METAL VESSEL WILL SPARE US FROM THE WRATH OF A RAMPAGING GOLEM!?  You. Dummy. He'll tear through this tin can like he's a specially made tin-cutting tool, and the fact that you didn't know that terrifies me, almost as much as the creature itself.

Nothing on this Earth gives me greater pleasure than laying out the blueprint for how to beat up some person, place, or thing, and then posting it for all to see. However, if I am to ever to complete a full list of everything that is, and how to beat them up - thus restoring the planet to a state of balance, with every thing wielding the tools to destroy every other thing - I'm going to need your help in mapping out thrashings...

Now, while I will not tolerate suggestions from others in any capacity whatsoever, in the real world (Oh, so being a doctor means you automatically know how alcohol and Percocet and steering a boat is going to AFFECT MY BODY? YOU DON'T KNOW ME.) I wholeheartedly welcome them in this virtual one.

I gotta be honest, I know of no one special way to beat up someone from Delaware. From what I understand people from Delware have no shared unifying characteristics.  They walk and talk and breathe and have dreams just like any other group of people. (Well, maybe not dreams. They are in Delaware, after all.   Only nightmares for them... nightmares that come true every time they open their eyes)  Anyone can choose to move to Delaware, when beaten down enough by life, as a signal to the world that they've given up. There's nothing about someone from Delaware specifically that lends itself to any one maneuver.

That being said, this seems like a good time to mention an incredible tactic that works on many people I've encountered, including those from Delaware. It's called "the dick punch."

The dick punch is an incredibly devastating maneuver that, mysteriously, only works on roughly half the population. It's uncanny, how it seems to play out that way.  

I can already hear your confused questions: "Wait, what?  Why the hell is this happening? Do Mark Wahlberg and this dinosaur know each other?  Or did they just meet up here randomly a minute ago? And why do they want to fight me?  Is this is a dream?  What do Mark Wahlberg and this dinosaur do together when they're not trying to fight me? 

Did Mark Wahlberg summon this thing from the past with a time machine? Or merely discover a dino egg that he then nurtured with love and tenderness, until it hatched out from under him and the specially made "dino-egg nest pillow" he'd been squatting on?" 

The answers are: DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT.  You've got a creature with a walnut-size brain to fight, and he's got a dinosaur with him.  Honestly, it really doesn't matter "why."  Let's just say they like each other’s company and connect on some level.  Now, the only tool you'll need for this fight is a toaster with an extra long extension cord.  Plug it in and set it aside, it'll come into play later...  Tackle Wahlberg first. A quick glance at the threat he poses can seem daunting, due to the following: 

1) He's from Boston, which is very impressive to people from Boston.

If you ever find yourself in a Roman colisseum, about to fight multiple enemies for the amusement of a blood-thirsty crowd, whatever you do, don't pick the "weighted throwing net" as your weapon. I'm pretty sure it's not even a real weapon, just something they made up and tossed in the pile to mess you up. You'd have better luck using a rolling desk chair with a sawblade taped to it, it's just as practical.  Sword gone? Try to get the battle axe or triton. If they're already spoken for grab the mace. (The spiky metal ball on a chain, connected to a handle)  

If you do get stuck with the net, I must caution you, don't expect your opponet to drop lifelessly to the ground when you cover them with it.  Be prepared for them to smirk, then calmly take the net off of them, before stabbing you. BECAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN.

The Trojan Horse... Indisputably, the greatest tactical maneuver of all-time. But, as crazy as it might sound today (in a world where warring armies are CONSTANTLY leaving enormous hollowed out-statues for each other as gifts that are later revealed to be filled with soldiers who wait until nightfall to slit their throats) there was a time when such an event was a rarity.  There was a time, before the Trojan Horse gambit revolutionized warfare, where you'd go dozens of battles without seeing such a thing.  Crazy, I know.  Since that time has clearly passed, I’m going to tell you how to deal with this all too common foe.

When they wheel that giant wooden horse in, you've GOT to act completely blown away.  Say things like "Whoa! Guys! This is-- You did not have to do this!  I mean we were JUST fighting two days ago!  Thank you sooooo much."

When the army you were fighting leaves and you shut the gates, it's important to keep the facade going for the soldiers inside the horse.  You just know they all have drinking glasses and are holding them up to the walls to hear what you're saying.  Except their medic, who's probably using a stethoscope.

A sock full of nickels is invaluable in a brawl. It's compact, easy-to-wield and handy when heading to a fight on the opposite side of a tollbooth. Consider it your new best friend... Sorry, Derek.* (Immediately tell Derek your friendship is over.)

Grip the sock close to the the nickel-end.  Don't allow too much slack as that can cause the weapon to get out of control. Target the back of the head and, if facing your adversary, the point of the chin. Swing away!

If you feel the fight slipping away from you, slice a small hole in the sock and dash it against the ground, sending nickels flying everywhere. Immediately, a flock of hobos will descend on the nickels, obscuring everything in a grubby cloud of motion, allowing you to safely make your escape.

*Even though sock-filled-with-nickels is your new best friend, resist the urge to draw eyes and a smiley mouth on it with a magic marker. It's just gonna creep everyone out. And don't talk to it, either.

Critically lauded, Academy Award-loser Aimee Mann wears many hats: singer, songwriter, producer, green felt one with a feather in it… Not impressed? Does this battle sound like a tune-up fight to you? An easy lay-up (I believe this is some sort of “non-punching sport” related phrase. From hopscotch, maybe?) Well think again. For two reasons:

1) I’ve seen her train and spar in the gym. Under the watchful, be-spectacled eyes of hall-of-fame boxing trainer Freddie Roach she was able to box the shit out of an opponent 15 years her junior. She telegraphed her punches a bit. (Literally, there was an old man in her corner tapping electrical signals into a small device every time she threw. It was SO EASY to pick up on.) And she also utilized a slightly too high guard that left her open to body attacks, but otherwise she looked good.