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Human Genome Puppets
Today, MSNBC reported on the completion of the first phase of the Human Genome Project, a "publicly-funded international consortium of scientists" dedicated to mapping every gene in the human body. WOOHOO! I'm so glad a group of people, paid for by our tax money, is celebrating the first step in the complete demystification of the human race. I'm glad I no longer have a purpose for my life now that I'm relatively sure I'm not going to die of any genetic disease I might have, so I don't have to worry about living my life to the fullest, because, within the next few years, they'll probably be able to tweak every gene until gone is the genetic flaw that will insure my not living to rival Yoda age-wise. I feel even better knowing that the jerks and asses of the world will have that much longer to take their insecurities out on anyone and everyone...if you haven't caught on by now, I'm being sarcastic to the deepest sense of the word. My maternal grandmother died last year of cancer, something that might have been helped by the Human Genome Project. But it was her time. I don't even believe in fate or destiny, but I do know, recognize, and accept this simple rule of life: people die every day. I said my goodbyes to her, she passed on, I cried a little while, and she went to the only place she could, a nice, earthy spot six feet below a stone with her name printed on it. And all I have left of her is memories. I recognize that one day, I'm going to die. And I refuse to have genetic or radiation therapy to prevent it if it's cancer. I can only hope that I die painlessly. It's all I can ask that I'm pumped up on morpheine until I'm higher than Tim Leary during an acid surplus in the Neverland Bus's storage space. Screw prolonging life; I'll try and make it a good life, but if it's my time, it's my frickin' time. We're going to end up using genetics to wipe out every possible human flaw. There will be no retards, bald cancer patients, or women left. All three of those groups make life interesting. I'm not talking about interesting in the way that we pass the time by laughing at them. I'm talking interesting for the people who know them and love them despite their problems. I had bad eyesight until twelve years of glasses prescriptions cured me--so what? I lived despite the teasing. We're going to end up with some wacko "Gattaca"-looking people walking around, teasing Arnold Schwarzenegger for being inferior. Anyone who wasn't afforded the benefit of gene therapy at birth will be ostracized, singled out, and humiliated beyond what even I would consider an acceptable level (and I, from experience, have learned to tolerate a lot). Then, soon, we'll be transporting them to inferiority camps and ushering them into gas showers. Life's not interesting without flaws. It's why supermodels are stupid and geniuses are ugly. EVERYONE NEEDS A FLAW! Otherwise, what would we have but a few billion Oasis members? And who in their right mind would want that? It would take all the fun out of dating, out of childbirth, out of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"...out of life! It's like cheating at "Yahtzee!". Taking the roll is a lot more fun than taking the die out of the shaker and arranging them to get five of the same number. If you don't believe that life is more interesting with death and genetic imperfections around, go down to your local hospital's cancer and mental wards. After the first, you won't ever see as many people who love life with every fiber of their being concentrated in one place again. After the second, you won't ever see as many drugged Michigan Militiamen and Scientologists concentrated in one place again. Actually, I shouldn't make fun of the mental patients. There's not another group of people in this society so determined to have a good time as them. And, besides, a lot of them are twice as sane as the people behind the Human Genome Project. |