On a shelf sits a vial. In the vial is a smidgen of cum. Somebody was given the unenviable task of swabbing it from a dead lady’s vagina. Virginia governor Mark Warner is now mulling whether to have it tested. DNA tests could determine if it matches Roger Keith Coleman, who bought it in 1992 for a brutal rape and murder. Prosecutors vehemently oppose the test, arguing that to proceed would set bad precedent. Coleman’s family wants it done, in hopes that it will exonerate him post-mortem---for all the good that’ll do.
Yes, these genes are a wondrous thing. There is a gay gene. There is a fat gene. People want to think everything about them is hard-wired at birth. I was born this way, dammit!
Joseph “You Can Call Me Joseph” Mengele fancied himself a pioneering geneticist. He’d scour the death camps in search of twins among the Jews, gays and Gypsies held there. He would spare their lives only to subject them to unspeakably horrific experiments. One shudders to think what he’d dream up had he gotten his grimy mitts on the Olsen Twins. (Is it just me, or do others wish those two had never blossomed into full-fledged foxes? It’s just so disturbing.)
Genes form the core of Darwinian theory. Guys supposedly want to maximize their chances of passing on theirs, so they knock up as many young, fertile chicks as possible. Like Sir Mick Jagger, they want buns in the oven all over town. Gals want a guy to stick around and help them with the arduous task of child-rearing, so they choose seemingly faithful mates. They figure older, more successful guys are less likely to run off with the first hot chippie to come down the pike. So long as all three orifices remain wide open, their reasoning goes, why would he ever need to look elsewhere? But they are often dead wrong.
Inbreeding and incest are just as wrong. These practices stifle genetic diversity. Yet we know that royal families have been at it for untold generations. In the House of Windsor, it isn’t a tall unusual for kissing cousins to do a lot more than smooch. Perhaps that explains why jug-eared Prince Charles once told his beloved Camilla that he’d like nothing better than to be reincarnated as her bloody tampon. Ugh.
It gets even uglier when it comes to matters of race and sports. Backwoods bigots alternatively bemoan and cite the fact that pro leagues are disproportionately populated by blacks as affirmation of their sick, half-baked theories. You know, Africans who could outrun ravenous lions survived to pass on their seeds and all that pseudo-Darwinian hooey. Yet, in years past, the glamour/money position of quarterback did remain off-limits to blacks. Now four of the top NFL offenses are led by African-Americans, namely Donovan McNabb, Dante Culpeper, Steve McNair and Quincy Carter. Even the traditionally white bastions of tennis and golf have been inundated by black stars. In fact, the top two female tennis players are black. The world’s top golfer is biracial. Tiger has shattered most of the records held by Big Golf’s revered white icons of yore; who’ve long since been consigned to toddling about the Seniors Tour. (This is the same PGA that has tried to maintain all-white country clubs, stop that Swedish chick from competing with the men and tried to block a disabled golfer from using a cart to tool about the links.)
Self-loathing white Hollywood reinforced this unfortunate stereotype with White Men Can’t Jump. I’ve often wondered what awful fate might befall a screenwriter who pitched Black Men Don’t Eat Pussy or Asians Eat Household Pets or The Lazy Mexican. Probably whatever it is that derailed Dana Carvey’s once-promising career.
You’d like to think genes are meted out in a relatively fair way. There’s the idiot savant, so deficient in many key areas but a whiz at math or tickling the ivories. There’s the whore with a heart of gold as depicted in many a movie before Pretty Woman. (Why they chose toothy Julia Roberts for the title role is anyone’s guess. You could park a Hummer in that cavernous mouth.)
But then you hear about this picture perfect Penthouse Pet who is also a prima ballerina and certified genius as well; which scuttles that theory and shakes your belief in any higher power. Where, pray tell, is the fairness in that? Might we take solace in the fact that she is a world class bitch who doesn’t play well with others?
1.) As to those prosecutors one has to wonder: "how does revealing the truth set a bad precedent?"
2.) expecting genes to be meted out fairly is like expecting every branch on a tree to be the same size, or every comparable human act to be equally compensated. However it begs the question of whether it matters how genes are distributed. The set of potentialities available to any given genotype is so vast, that one has to wonder if any particular configuration is really better than any other. Every stone is unique, yet every stone does very well at being a stone. A diamond can cut glass, but try bonking your enemy over the head with it.
3.) I knew a woman like the penthouse pet you describe. Double major in dance and philosophy. Highly creative and intelligent. Incredibly attractive and a very very high sex drive. She was heaven and hell in the same person. There's no free lunch (you can eat all you want, but you gotta wash the dishes sometime).
by chris at December 15, 2003 11:00 PM
Where are all the posts? Posts, people!! :)
That's a great point about the stones, Chris. In the end, you've just gotta be who you gotta be. In the Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu says that he's "like the baby who cannot bring himself to smile." And in The Far Side, Popeye once said, "I yam what I yam."
You know what else doesn't make sense? Donald Trump is as rich as (a minor) God and his son's a hottie, but his hair continues to look pretty much like my dad's, and my dad lounges around the house in long johns. What gives?
by jean at December 16, 2003 1:42 AM
Damn Chris, while I meant that facetiously, I honestly never thought of it that way. Stones rule! And Jean, don't even get me started about this Trump. On the road to Atlantic City, NJ, there are billboards. On them are huge pictures of his latest leggy blonde conquest. Or at least there was several years ago, before the advent of online gambling. No second-hand smoke!
by anna at December 16, 2003 7:44 AM
um, yeah...i think that's the point. ;-p
by JC at December 16, 2003 12:12 PM
innnnnnteresting...in the popup comment window, the quote class shows as rather large, while in the archive page, it shows as the normal font. hello, tech support? (or is that not a bug, but a feature?)
by JC at December 16, 2003 12:17 PM
Who knows why the genes fall where they do? Here is an example. (not work-safe)
by MrBlank at December 16, 2003 1:50 PM
That not work safe part kind of takes you by surprise. Whoever that chick is, that's a pretty amazing resume. You wonder how she wound up in that dead-end profession.
JC, I don't follow but that's typical for my tech-dumb ass. I don't even know what those little symbols y'all use mean. But is there a way to alter font size without resorting to code-writing?
by anna at December 16, 2003 7:42 PM
no no no...it's not anything that you have control over. it's something mg would have to tackle. try this: on the main page, click on the comments link for your post, and notice that the
by JC at December 17, 2003 1:06 PM
Did you read Asia Carrera's biography? The link at the bottom of that page? It's so sad. I'm glad that she's found her own sort of peace, but the things she went through were so horrible.
by jean at December 19, 2003 1:58 PM
you have a very talented and skilled writting. i had a great time reading your comments. an article here on desktoplinux.com: http://news.linux.com/news/05/10/10/0213220.shtml?tid=96 , it's impossible to experience one's death
by kevin jones at October 11, 2005 4:58 PM
you suck american scum it is i bin ladin and i rule fuck you
by blah at December 2, 2007 8:17 PM