Yesterday, I was ready to make a post.
It was going to be somewhat political, but mostly intellectual. See, I was going to to announce my not-very-unique conclusion that our President just doesn’t read. Moreso, he is content with his lack of direct information, as it makes a certain amount of individual deductive reasoning completely unnecessary. It is fairly common knowledge that he prefers a daily digest of the world’s goings-on, to the tedium of pouring over the news page-by-page or screen-by-screen.
So when I read the news yesterday, I wasn’t surprised at all, but I was suddenly quite depressed all the same.
I don’t know nearly enough about the nuances of genetic manipulation to understand much more than a cartoon diagram of the stem cell advances made last week in South Korea. If I follow correctly, the researchers took a donated egg, removed some (or all, I’m not sure) of its core content, and implanted DNA from the skin cell of a patient needing gene therapy. They then allowed the result to grow until it produced stem cells, which took about three days. Again, I’m not an expert, but I read just enough to determine that these stem cells were not exactly embryonic in origin. In other words, I don’t believe there is any potential human child in this scenario.
The President did not read this. Obviously.
I worry about a world in which cloning becomes acceptable.
Well, Mr Bush, so do the rest of us, but that was a movie. I don’t believe the South Koreans are building a Clone Army, so rest easy. Furthermore … nevermind.
And that’s where my post went South, because I am just convinced more and more of the creeping spread of this Presidentially-endorsed complacency and a rampant acceptance of that which is bullet-pointed and spoon-fed, so I find myself comforted by concerns closer to home and much less earth-shattering.
Yesterday, we avoided TicketMaster’s reign of convenience fees by buying Rufus Wainwright tickets at the Botanical Garden gift shop. Thanks for the tip, Joseph.
Today, we bought tile for the laundry room out back. Navajo Biege. It was on sale and the weight of it turned my Focus into a low-rider.
We made gazpacho this evening, which is a sign of summer’s impending arrival around our house. The kitchen smells of cucumbers and tomatoes and garlic.
I organized my CDs this afternoon and realized that I will never listen to that John Williams Summon The Heroes album. Good thing it was a gift.
We’ll repaint the upstairs bathroom next weekend, maybe replacing the countertop and sink. A few weeks after, we’ll buy the hardwood we need to do the upstairs rooms, moving the office to the spare bedroom and vice versa.
We’ll get to do our laundry downstairs in a month or so.
We’ll pack and visit friends up North over the 4th. We’ll have our belated honeymoon in November. We’ll be okay.
Given enough time … we’ll all be okay.
