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| Human Cloning |
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| Can't Have Kids? Good. |
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This is Dark Cloud on Wednesday, January 07, 1998. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Impressed by the success of the Scotland in replicating an entire sheep by genetic tinkering, a Chicago doctor - so called - has heroically announced that the same process could be used to clone humans. This, he intones, can be used to help childless, infertile couples who want a child. It seems to me, without any chance of contradiction, that infertility is God or Nature’s way of saying Don’t Have Kids, There Is Something Wrong or Displeasing about That Possibility to Me. As such, cloning or infertility drugs, especially for profit, would seem an abomination to Him. But apparently not, since he did strike the McCaugheys and their seven little tax deductions with lightening. On the other hand, they still live in Iowa. What is definitely an abomination is that any money, especially public money, is spent on something like white middle class infertility. We know that our species is overcrowding the planet. We know that each unwanted, unneeded child is worse than any oil spill, any burned acre of South American rain forest, because this blight will grow up unloved, desperate for attention, and only able to produce other unwanted kids as an ambulatory Kilroy Was Here genetically chiseled into our midst. If there is one child, one infant still in an American orphanage, it is an abomination that four hundred times that kid’s yearly care budget is spent so some fat, grotesque, neurotic couple - physically repulsed by each other - can achieve that magic moment of creation with the help of enough medical staff to offset the Black Death, paid for one way or the other with tax dollars. You will remember George Bernard Shaw’s reply to one actresses’ suggestion that the two of them have children. 'With your brains and my looks,' the woman is said to have suggested, 'think what the child will be like.' 'But madam,' replied Shaw, 'what if it has my looks and your brains?' Now imagine an ignorant, religiously warped, fat woman from Des Moines who has passed forty and lives with her father, who she still calls Daddy in a sing-song voice considered icky by her classmates in first grade. Imagine her meeting, at a church social, an obese man who laughs at her My Daddy anecdotes and likes to eat her cooking. He lives with his Mother, is forty-five and a virgin, but regional manager of a steakhouse chain. Now imagine them each separately considering their life in a few years and getting married. Their parents want grandchildren because its the social thing to do in small town Iowa. Did I mention they live in Iowa? They live in Iowa. To our amazement, they cannot conceive. We’ll leave that subject, because I don’t want to think about it. They could adopt. They could try sex. But they don’t want to adopt, and geachhh! It’s hard to get white children and what would the folks think of colored toddlers and anyway they could never leave them alone in the house because they steal. And I’ve told you I don’t want to think about them and sex, a similar conclusion to the one they reached. Now imagine them approaching a doctor in a distant city, the local one is a gossip. Now imagine the options laid out before them, the ones we read about in the news all the time: pills, in vitro, cloning, etc. Now imagine who actually is going to foot the bill for their decision. Aren’t you proud? And don’t you just know what a mentally healthy child or seven will emerge? |
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