Thursday, February 12, 2009

Buffetus

Buffet.
Fetus.
Buffetus.

It may someday be possible to select your child's characteristics before they are born, to make sure they are as healthy as possible.

Prenatal.
Talisman.
Prenatalisman.

It makes sense--we can purify water these days, why not genetic material?
Just put the DNA through a Brita.

Water.
Terrific.
Waterrific.

Potential diseases could be eliminated. Also freckles.
All kinds of horrible things.

Then, beyond health concerns, it might be additionally possible to choose things like your child's hair color or height or the shape of their nose, perhaps to make them look like an honored dead relative (before they were dead).

Premortem.
Temperament.
Premortemperament.

But is it really up to us to determine what we want our children to be like?
Who are we to make such decisions?

Shouldn't it really be up to the beauty and fashion industries once they're born and ready to be brainwashed by movies and magazines?

How will the reality television industry survive?
What will happen to all the shows where people get plastic surgery when they want to look like celebrities, or when their friends want them to be less ugly?

Celebrity.
Retarded.
Celebritarded.

Did you think about that, science?
You're supposed to be the thing that cares about thinking.

But what kind of world are you thinking us into?

Future.
Turmoil.
Futurmoil.

But fear not, world. Fear not, science.
Economics will handle this:
Because not everyone will be able to afford the wondrous new God-ignoring, child-fixing technology that's available, nothing will change in the big picture, in the grand scheme, in the unnatural order of things.

The rich get richer, and the poor stay uglier.

Except for the lucky few who are blessed by the grace of God to turn out exactly how society demands they be.

Hallelujah.
Lucrative.
Hallelucrative.

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