Yesterday I was thinking that someday boutique scientists or “doctors” will be able to clone living infants who never age, who never grow out of the whatever adorable developmental stage the buyer specifies. These little ones will have hair, eyes, and skin chosen from catalogues. But the buyers will grow weary of changing diapers, providing comfort at midnight, mixing formula. Predictably, they will abandon, abuse, and neglect these babies.
Talking heads will debate the matter of the children’s humanity as the same facilities who grew them begin to provide disposal services. Many of the children will meet darker ends that echo the more horrible race memories enshrined in those fairy tales that come down to us from the now forgotten Indo-European homeland when two or three varieties of human clashed secondary to nameless disaster that motivated the earliest people-group’s migrations. Religious or moral hobbyists will likewise debate the matter of these infants’ souls, and other debased society fools will pretend to follow the arguments of the talkers, but won’t really care one way or the other how the thing falls out. Maybe a few of the infants will grow past their DNA programmed dead ends, may or may not grow past all of them neatly and at once, or may ‘asymmetrically’ and catastrophically grow. Then the debate will center upon whether to treat them or even to provide palliative care.
People with souls will quietly or stridently take upon themselves the care and feeding of these little ones who will never be able to care for themselves. And God will judge, will act or refrain from acting. Whatever course God takes will not be understood, or will be misinterpreted or misidentified by debased humanity.
These were some of the thoughts that troubled me Saturday.
I’m getting back into a strength training routine. Last night worked legs, back, biceps. Tonight plan chest, shoulders, triceps. I will probably work in abs or aerobic today, as well. What good’s being skinny without muscle tone.
On another note, I’ve completely wrecked my online anonymity with Facebook. It was kind of wrecked, anyway, as family members had already found both this blog and its precursor. I had also given out the address to some friends, but they are people who know me as I am now, not through the lens of family role and system, so I don’t mind that they also know my angst, embarrassments, rages, bitterness, brilliant insights and excruciating fluency in this written word, my broken preferred medium of communication.
Still, it’s good to weigh-in at 165#, explore watery paths by kayak, to see with my eyes and know with my mind.