Issue
number 60 May
26, 2005
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Quorum of One is intended for adult readers
This issue:
An open letter to
my possible future clone
Dear Kid,
You poor schmuck. No, wait -- sorry!
I'll start over.
Let me put it this way: I've got good
news and bad news. The good news is that impressive longevity runs in your
family on both sides, going back many generations. You should have a good
chance of making it well past age 100 like your genetic paternal grandmother.
Now the bad news: you are going to
reach puberty late, well after everyone else in your gym class, and then just
when the testosterone starts really kicking in you're going to get horrendous
acne that will last through your early twenties. Maybe there'll be a viable
cure by the time this happens to you, but if there isn't keep in mind that it
goes away eventually so there's no reason to let it affect your self-esteem.
After all, physical attractiveness isn't everything, and you have many other
fine attributes. Pus Face.
Another bad thing: you have a pretty
severe allergy. It won't give you asthma or put you into anaphylactic shock or
anything fatal, but it does cause acute, chronic and frankly disgusting runny
nose, itching eyes, sinus congestion and across-the-board wretchedness. The
culprit is some damn plant, and I am sorry to say I don't know which one -- all
I can tell you is that it grows in every central Canadian province and northern
US state from early April through the end of September. If you have the
misfortune of living in this zone, you'd better get used to the idea of going
through your own weight in tissues every day, even with antihistamines. And
remember: in all likelihood, someday, somebody, probably some wiseass kid who
thinks he's the rugged outdoorsy type, is going to teach you how to blow your
nose without benefit of a handkerchief. Don't even think about it.
Like me when I was a kid, and like most
young boys, you will probably develop the desire to play sports, perhaps
baseball, football, basketball, etc. Here's my advice: forget it. You're
scrawny. You don't have the natural strength to hit a baseball beyond the
pitcher's mound or to outrun anyone your age. Of course, as you may know,
throwing a ball is not so much a matter of strength as coordination. But you
don't have any of that either. You are left-handed, as I'm sure you have
realized if you're old enough to be reading this, but only for writing and
eating. Everything else you do right-handed, including throwing a ball, and
this means that you have no good arm. You know how some guys can throw and bat
either right- or left-handed equally well? Well you can too, only "equally
well" in your case means "like your 100-year-old grandmother".
So don't waste your time -- just stay indoors and read.
Now take a look at yourself in the
mirror. Notice something here: You are beige. You have regulation-issue pasty
white guy skin and dishwater brown hair. This means two things:
1) You will have a natural inclination
to choose beige clothing.
2) You look like shit in beige.
Don't wait until your mid-thirties to figure this
out. Stick with the dark colors.
Speaking of your hair, when it's cut shorter
than about three inches, you get a big, ridiculous looking cowlick in the back
on the right. The only way to tame it is by massive applications of gel that
make it look like you've been sneezed on by an elephant that has the same
allergy as you. So grow it out and keep it at least moderately long.
Still speaking of your hair, let me
save you some serious grief: Don't ever try to grow a moustache, and above all
DO NOT EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES try to grow a beard. Note my use of the
word "try". When you grow up you will have one of the world's
sparsest sets of whiskers, and if you stop shaving each individual hair will
curl away from the others in a different direction. You might think it looks
like a "moustache and beard" but believe me, everyone else will think
it looks like "worn out Velcro scraps". I realize that this
disqualifies you from joining the rabbinate, the Taliban or the Amish
community, but we all have to live within certain limitations.
That's about all I have to tell you,
kid. Oh, and one more pitfall to avoid: God forbid that Amber Biendetto should
ever be cloned as well, but if she is and happens to be about your age and you
should happen to meet her, be warned: You are going to fall instantly and
hopelessly in love with her and want to make a fool of yourself by taking her
out over and over in the wild hope that one day she will consent to go to bed
with you. She won't.
Well, good luck! Enjoy your life!
You poor schmuck.
©2005
by David Jaggard
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novelty songs, clone jokes, cloning jokes, clone humor, clone humour, cloning
humor, cloning humour, cloning satires, and getting as many possible search
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