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Swine Me, Dine Me, But Stay Outta My Genes! They beamed with pride, Mr. And Mrs. Lavitrano did, at the birth of their daughter Marialuisa. And again at her graduation from college, I’m sure. Her becoming a doctor undoubtedly filled them with a joy they found difficult to put into words. I can only assume, however, that the latest notch on her resume would cause even the proudest of parents to turn the pictures backwards over the fireplace, change their names, and move more often than a mobster in the witness protection program. Marialuisa Lavitrano: daughter, doctor…Swine Sperm Manipulator. Oh, the horror. Marialuisa is a scientific researcher at the University of Milan, and the author of a study appearing in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. The research started out innocently enough, and focused on the genetic altering of pigs so that their organs can be used for human transplantation without the usual problems of organ rejection. Noble research, yea? Well…according to an Associated Press article, “By manipulating swine sperm, Italian researchers have made a strain of pigs that carry human genes in their hearts, livers and kidneys.” They mixed the swine sperm with human DNA which was then used to fertilize pig eggs and produce litters of pigs carrying human genes. Are you still with me? Good. The article went on to explain in scientific detail, the technology that could make “xenotransplantation” safe, but to the relief of Mr. and Mrs. Lavitrano, tactfully omitted the details of the procedures used in obtaining the swine sperm. Well, I have no tact. So c’mon, spill the pork and beans! Inquiring minds want to know! Did Ms. Lavitrano strike a sultry pose, dim the lab lights, then turn on a little Barry White before putting the moves on the little piggies? Did she get them a-squealing with a trough dance before finally taking matters in her own hands, so to speak? I’ll spare you the obvious “pork” and “makin’ bacon” cracks and just assume that however it was done, those boars were happy as pigs in [well, you know the rest]. I think it’s safe to say none of them thar piggies went to market THAT day unless it was to buy cigarettes. In the interest of science, those little piggies stayed home. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for any advances in medicine that can help us to live longer and more fulfilling lives. But it seems to me once we reached the point of genetic tinkering, God must have put down the newspaper, hit the mute button, raised his eyebrows, and leaned in for a closer look. You’re playing biological roulette in the Big Man’s Casino. Sit at the table too long and He’ll clean your clock. I equate genetic tampering with walking through a minefield with your fingers in your ears. I’ve always cast a suspicious eye towards the medical field, even in the face of advancements. How can you put your faith into a profession that constantly contradicts itself? For example, doctors told us for years that pork was bad for our hearts. But when our heart valves give out where do they look for replacements? PIGS!!!! Pork was bad, now it’s the “other white meat.” Butter was no good, now it’s not much worse than margarine. Red meat caused colon cancer. Now, “It’s what’s for dinner.” In the movie Sleeper, Woody Allen is cryogenically frozen, then thawed again many years in the future. Once awake, his doctor gives him a cigar and tells him to inhale the smoke deep into his lungs. “Best thing for you,” he says. This will happen, just give it time. When I first read this article, I was reminded of the remake of the movie The Fly. Jeff Goldblum experiments with “teleportation” of people from one place to another by putting himself into a machine that disassembles his molecules in Telepod #1, and sends them invisibly through the air to be reassembled in Telepod #2. Only there’s a fly in the ointment, er..telepod. During the process, Jeff and the fly become molecular scrambled eggs and the horror begins as he slowly turns into a fly. So, after careful consideration, I’ve decided to take my chances with the parts God gave me, and run em’ till the tread wears off. Then I’ll ride off with my dignity and organs intact into that great junkyard in the sky. You meant well Miss Lavitrano, but no sale. On a related note, I had a nightmare last night. After contracting a new incurable strain of Swine Flu which destroyed my heart, I found myself waking up in the recovery room after life-saving transplant surgery. The doctors were amazed at my quick recovery, but things quickly soured. I stopped showering, now preferring a good wallow in the mud. Pulling my sneakers off one night, I stared in horror at hooves where feet once stood. I knew at once the worst was yet to come. Sleep was fitful and filled with nightmares of chasing Ned Beatty while screaming “C’mon, squeal like a sow!” I awoke in a cold sweat to a musical snorting of “Dueling Banjos.” Terrified, I stumbled on my hooves to the bathroom and fumbled for the light switch. Squinting from the brightness, I grunted and snorted, and oinked the oink of the damned as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light. Then….it happened. Staring back at me from my bathroom mirror, in all it’s horrid wretchedness….you guessed it. Rosie O’Donnell. NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jerry Conroy is a Florida-based humor writer. His humor pieces have appeared in newspapers across the country, as well as leading web sites.
Jerry can be reached at:
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Warning: The Sturgeon General Has Determined That Fishing May Be Hazardous To Your Health Are You Smuggling a Banana or Are You Just Happy to See Me? The Vatican Express Card. Holy Cash Cow! How Do I Bug Thee? Let Me Count The Ways For Your Safety, the Captain Has Turned on the "No Leg-Humping" Sign |
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