Adventures In Evil Zombieland Episode 11 Chemtrail Edition

 It’s another beautiful day in Southern California and I’m walking in a trendy beach town, admiring nature, and dodging artificial humans.
 

I look up at what should be a crystal-clear sunny blue sky, but instead I’m horrified by jets criss-crossing white lines of chemical cocktails.  Nothing makes me feel more powerless than being sprayed like a bug from on high.

I decide to make an attempt at drawing attention to the chemical warfare overhead.  I cautiously approach a borg-like being who is completely submerged in smartphone brain fog.  “I’m sorry to disturb your electro-induced hypnotic bliss, but when was the last time you looked up?” 

 The artificial female looks up from her NSA-approved tracking device, scowls at me and says, “What’s your problem, jerk?”

Her verbal zombie insult pellet bounces off my thick armor of knowledge and falls harmlessly into the ether.  “At the sky, I mean.  Have you noticed the chemical warfare we’re constantly under?”
 “I’m calling the police,” she states sincerely.
 “Please, don’t bother calling that monopolistic coercive death cult.  I’ll happily go on my way.”
 

I walk down to the shoreline and come across a surfer-looking guy who is also immersed in his electronic hand extension known as a smartphone.  “Hey bro, are you educating yourself about weather manipulation on that thing?”
 “Dude, what, huh?”
 “Look up at the sky, dude.  Does that look normal?”
 “Dude, huh, those are just contrails.  What century are you from, bro?”
 

 I grin at the irony and ask, “What century are you from? You don’t know that the weather is being manipulated by a psychopathic scientific priesthood?”
 He stares at me with his mouth gaping open for a moment then says, “I’m not religious, bro.  Thanks, anyway.”
 I sigh, shrug my shoulders, kick some sand, curse Bill Gates, and move on with my life.

  I find a wrinkly ghost-white tourist sunning himself on the pier.  At least he’s not glued to an electronic device, so maybe there’s a slight chance his brain is functioning at the moment.    
 I lean against the pier railing next to him and say, “Nice, day, huh? Too bad it’ll probably rain later due to the artificial cloud creation being done right now.”
 

 He turns and gives me a bizarre twist of his face and asks, “What are you, a psychic or a psycho? Either way, get lost.”
 “I just pay attention to my environment.  If you’d care to take the time to look up at the sky, you might notice some abnormal white streaks criss-crossing everywhere.” 

 “Those are just condensation trails, you loon!” he barks.
 “Condensation trails dissipate in under five minutes.  Those bio-warfare trails above our heads will stay there for hours.”
 

 He shakes his head in a disapproving and condescending manner and says, “That sure must be some good dope you’re smokin’, son.  Now get lost!”
 I take the old man’s mild hint and go on my way.  I spot a hyper-trendy artificial female zombie.  She has a a plastic face, a mini-dog in her pricey purse, and has a smartphone neatly tucked into her chest in order to achieve maximum radiation.    
 

 I try a bit of a milder approach this time and ask, “Ya know what I really like about dogs?”
 No response.  Not even an annoyed look.
 Undaunted, I proceed, “Dogs notice changes to their environment and adjust as necessary in order to survive.”
 

She doesn’t look at me and callously comments, “Which means that my feisty little critter here should be biting your face off in less than five seconds.”
 

 I boldly defy the threat of being defaced by a chihuahua and continue to make my point.  “What I’m getting at is that there are jets flying overhead right now, spraying chemicals on us like we’re no better than a bunch of cockroaches, wreaking havoc on the planet, screwing up the weather systems, and generally degrading life as we know it, but nobody seems to notice because the media device of their choice doesn’t tell them to.”

  She finally looks up, gives me a vicious glance, then asks coldly, “Does it look like I care?”
 I shoot back, “Can you be more slave-like?”
 “I have pepper spray,” she says as she reaches into the dog-less half of her purse.
 “Do you need to look up on your smartphone how to use it?” I say snidely.
 She backhands me across the face.  I didn’t notice until this moment that she was wearing an enormous diamond.  I almost regret talking to her.  That might leave a mark.
 

 I lick my wounds and move on.
 I spot a robotic intellectual wanna-be.  He’s maybe in his early 30’s, has a job he hates, reads the Wall Street Journal, went to state uni, was definitely in a fraternity, and thinks he’s got it all figured out.  To sum up, he’s a perfect target.
 

I approach with an “oh my God, I haven’t seen you in years” tone of voice and body language.  “Hey bro, is that you! Wow, after all these years!”
 Genuinely confused and looking around to see if there are cameras nearby, he asks, “Do I know you?” 

 I keep up the high energy routine and reply, “Bro! We were in Pie Eatah Whatzit together! At state, you don’t remember? Come on bro!”
 He does a fake smile and reluctantly says, “Oh, maybe, I guess.  How have you been?”
 

 I scream in the same excited tone, “Well, I’d be doing a hell of a lot better if we weren’t living under a scientific dictatorship of psychos who are destroying humanity and the planet by their vain attempts at controlling the weather! How about you? Read any good books lately?”
 

 His face drops to utter dazed and confused mode and says, “Books? What? Are you sure we know each other?”
 “Maybe the journal?” I ask expectantly.
 “Yeah, I read the Wall Street Journal. What fraternity did you say?”
 

 “Bro, that’s not even the half of it! Did you hear the part I said about destroying humanity and the planet, controlling the weather, etc.?”
 “Are you some kind of crazy guy? No one is controlling the weather.  I really gotta go.”
 “So you haven’t read the official U.S. Air Force document called “Owning The Weather, 2025”? The Wall Street Journal didn’t tell you about investing in atmospheric modification and cloud seeding companies? I’m so shocked!”
 

 “You’re really scary.  I’m leaving.”   
 “I’m scary because I read, pay attention to the sky, and warn people about danger? I’m scary because I don’t want barium and aluminum raining down on me? I guess I can’t argue with that logic!”
 He grimaces and walks away briskly.
 

If only they put smartphones in the sky, people might look up.  Oh, well.  I tried.  I decide to call it a day and find some shelter in order to limit my toxic chemtrail spray exposure.