With recent advances in the science of cloning, I wonder if the recluses at Vatican City have considered duplicating Pope Francis. I’m not trying to be disrespectful here but it seems to me it’s a good way to repeat what’s working as opposed to chancing failure. I know there’s been a number of movies and books that offer scenarios depicting evil as a result of cloning gone bad, but I think we need to take a serious look before we dismiss the idea.
I recently saw a 60 Minutes story feature a man who as far as he knows fathered 200 children from his 400 visits to a sperm bank. He seemed normal if not altruistic in his approach to the subject. Yet, all this conjectured, I think he enjoyed getting paid to jerk-off in a Petri dish.
Think of it, a genetically engineered pool of DNA from which the brightest and noblest of mankind is nurtured and raised to become leaders, thinkers, inventors, and all are genetically predisposed to being funny. The losers and assholes are kept to do the bidding of the bright and noble. It’s worth pondering don’t you think?
I answered an ad recruiting donors of Sperm offering $100 for my DNA. After all who am I to deny the world another Marzuki? I know what you’re thinking—please shut up; the world could do much worse! After a brutal screening process, I was given a towel primarily for hygiene as far as I could tell and directed to a line at the other end of the laboratory. I was one of about 30 people in line. In a brief scan of my peers I sensed something was very wrong. I finally got close enough to the entry and immediately read the sign. One more knee to the groin. The sign read, ‘victims of circumstance’ please take specimen cup. What does that mean? Was I not chosen for the brightest and noblest of humanity? ME? That’s not conceivable! As I walked in I was led to a dressing room and dropped trou. The nurse handed me a number of porno magazines then shut the door. I noticed a goodly number of pages were stuck together, deepening my humiliation.
I don’t get my $100 if I can’t deliver, so I picked up a Hustler and began to peruse its contents. I found a particularly nasty section called “Tanya; Vacuity and Talent Too”. Surprisingly I was able to thumb through the six page layout without the crackling of ‘ick’ sucking the ink off the page. Evidently one of Tanya’s talents involves imitating a Hoover. So I let myself go with the vision and even expanded on it. Tanya’s hands and lips are playing a symphony Tchaikovsky couldn’t possibly appreciate, and I got lost in the bliss of Tanya’s mystery.
Sealing my cup, I handed it to the nurse who gave me a voucher redeemable at any King Soopers for $100. It was convenient though, I needed to pick up coffee and toilet paper. Getting paid for donating sperm destined to be a victim of circumstance seems wrong to me. Yet I needed the money. Oh well; I’ll never know the hapless moron, let them worry about it! “C’mon Dude let’s go bowling!”