There has been some strange stuff going down in the year 2003, I kid you not.
First of all, we have the mysterious Harris Teeter potato chip aisle fire, which I have suspicion to believe was ignited by a bunch of yoga enthusiasts in their persecution of trans fatty acids. Second, Superbowl fans will respond to the inferno by consuming an estimated 14,500 tons of chips. Third (and most outrageous) American scientists are now calling the Clonaid group's so-called cloned baby "Eve," a hoax, which may explain why millions of children cried on Christmas morning when Santa had not brought them a mini-me. I realize this comes as quite a shock to everyone, considering the Clonaid group's reputable status as being linked to the Raelians, a religious sect that believes space aliens descended here on earth to start the human race through cloning. Try to dry your eyes and relax --- have a triple latte.
Do not be bashful and deny that you've had cloning fantasies (we all have) of mini-yous running around town, doing cartwheels off the roof of Take It Away like marionettes at your whim. Those are natural thoughts for kids our age. Or maybe you've fantasized of the cloned mini-you bouncing the door at Buddhist, racking up bribes from the under-aged, while you revel in the life of the aloof vacationer and float on a down duvets, catching marathons of "Cribs." If your clone worked enough hours, you could buy as many souped up cars as Little Romeo (spectacular episode), and you'd be old enough to drive them too.
Honestly, though, when asked, most University students say they have very responsible visions of their clones attending class for them.They would send them out into the academic world to be sponges, soaking up the barrage of obscure information that us out-of-staters pay $21,151 to be required to learn. The "Clonies" would become real sharp after attending "Stars for Studs" and also would report back to their masters with impeccable notes on "How Scarves Work."
Yet, ideas like that may explain why we are rated the No. 2 public university behind Berkeley. With fewer requirements and a more innovative curriculum, perhaps students would think up more ingenious ways to exploit their clone.
For example, perhaps our clones could bring back the morale and activism of us generation Xers, or YY's or whatever we are --- a generation that will soon loose their hair in the shower over whether or not the Bachelorette will propose to the tall blond guy who shoots hoops in Sweden.
Now, I doubt our clones would hold any demonstrations that had the ardor of those 1970 Vietnam protests when Nixon sent troops into Cambodia. It's all about baby steps. The Clonies could start small and hold a coup de tat at Clemons in response to the new pay before you print policy. Word has it that the Commies, I mean the Comm School Students, can print in their building for free. Now, if I'm not mistaken, isn't it these students who already landed a spot on those golden elevators to the sky in the play land of Morgan Stanley Dean Witter? What about the art history majors, confined in darkness all day, or the psychology people who are condemned to over-analyze the world for the rest of their lives. What about us? If you pinch us, do we not cry? If you cut us, do we not bleed? If you provide notes on toolkit, can we not print?
Our clones could further rally together right on our very own Corner and picket the multi-billion dollar coffeehouse conglomerate that spreads like oozing poison ivy around the world. I'm not out to point fingers, but if I was playing $25,000 Pyramid with my celebrity partner David Hasselhoff, under the heading "Things that are Evil," I'd say: "It's not a moon, but a
" (blank),
plus
"Its not bills, but
" (blank).
Yes, our clones could picket Starbucks, a company that not only boasts a 25 percent quarterly revenue growth but also has succeeded in ruining the self-esteem of good people.
I've looked into the eyes of grown men in Starbucks who shamefully stand in line to order skim Vent
Chai Latt
s feeling that "accented e" is compromising their macho austere. They cast their gaze down, staring at the croissants and after-espresso gum -- their faces ablaze as if I'd caught them in the act of pulling up the scandalous Web pages of a girl named Candy Cane.(She'd enjoy the peppermint hot chocolate by the way). I've seen grown women slip over to the dark side and blow their life savings on the addictive Mocha that surely has an extra roasted kick. There are shady deals going down at Starbucks I tell you, shady deals. The employees try to stuff muffins down our throats, when we are just tired and thirsty -- they want us to succumb to their ways. But our clones would picket and rally against the raging river of java brown!
(Yet, I'll continue to stop in every morning because after one grand
Starbucks coffee, I have false notions that I possess superhuman powers. I believe I can fly.)
Now, I know what you're thinking--it'd be wrong to continue to take advantage of our clones for purely activist causes. They deserve to bask in electrifying school spirit too. That's why we could have our clones camp out outside U-Hall for basketball tickets where they could toast marshmallows on their smuggled-in propane grills and watch "American Idol" on portable Sony's. It's not that I don't love a good night's rest on concrete in sub zero temperatures, but after reading the camp out policy regulations posted onStudent Council's Web sites, I feel it is all too risky. Just check out section VI on Hooville regulations in the amendment to Article XIII of the Bylaws of the Student Council of U.Va. And I quote: "The absence of a representative (of your camping group) in Hooville (noted by the Hoocrew) will be considered cheating and a breach of the honor system." Rumor has it that this Hoocrew monitors have no mercy and give basketball ticket line cutters 10 years without parole.
So, after thinking this through, I'm starting to consider that maybe Clonaid isn't so whacked in their attempts to create artificial life. I sure wouldn't mind seats for the Duke game right on the parquet floor. Perhaps Clonaid just needs this rumored cloned baby "Eve" to use as their chauffeur on nights when the Escort number is busy. Or, our own clones could scrub away all of the scum that grows on the bottom of bathtubs and between the shower tiles. And just imagine, for spring break we could all jet off to Hollywood with our clones and try out for Doublemint gum commercials!
Aren't the endless possibilities of 2003 so natural?
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