Crowning Achievements In Human Cloning

My work often takes me to various county court houses here in the great state of Missouri. I spend most of the time in these courthouses researching in the Recorder of Deeds Office. These offices are, inevitably, staffed with what would appear to be the first evidence of successful cloning of humans. I say this because I’m fairly certain that at any moment a person could walk into any Recorder of Deeds Office, and meet the same group working in, say, Dunklin County, as you would find working diligently in Grundy County.

I do not want to give the impression that this secretive human cloning project is in such an infantile stage as to only have achieved success in cloning one human being. On the contrary, this project is well advanced, and has been successful in cloning several different humans. I do, however, believe that the super-secret evil organization behind this plot used one woman to begin the entire cloning process.

I will now attempt to describe this one woman, the Eve for this most vile experiment, if you will.

Eve is 41 years old. She has three children, ages 17, 14 and 6. (It would seem that Adam’s vasectomy wasn’t 100% effective, as evidenced by the eight year gap between children two and three.) Eve works, not out of need for money to feed her family of five, but out of a need to overcome her boredom. All of her children are attending the Local Public School, once again, and Eve has nothing to do around the house. So Eve found herself a job, at the county courthouse, in the Recorder of Deeds Office.

Eve was terribly disappointed when Everybody Loves Raymond was finished, but terribly excited to find out that, with basic cable, she can watch her favorite TV show eighteen times daily. She prefers Leno to Letterman, and doesn’t know about Conan (that’s just on too late.) The last time Eve attended the theatre (pronounced the-ATE-er), it was for the Local Middle School production of the wholesome family musical Fiddler on the Roof, in which Child #2 played Cossack #3.

Nothing can please Eve more than the third Thursday of every month, Date Night. This Date Night, lately, has included both dinner at the Olive Garden and a trip to the local discount movie house where she and her loving husband take in a movie they’ve “heard good things about” but haven’t “gotten around to seeing it,” yet.

Child #1 plays two sports at the Local High School. C#1 “plays” on the varsity team, due to C#1’s longevity in the sport and status as Senior. C#1 looks forward to the blowout games, when C#1 finally gets to make an appearance on the court/field of play. The other students in attendance at Local High School also like these events, as it gives them the opportunity to chant C#1’s name in a mocking unison fashion.

C#2, as previously mentioned, is into “Drama.” Eve does not realize that she could be presenting her co-workers with a double entendre, here, as C#2 every day finds a vast supply of beeswax, none of which belongs to C#2. C#2 feels the need to deliver all of said shipment of beeswax to Eve, who in turn finds it necessary to deliver the beeswax to her co-workers.

C#3, apparently, does nothing more than play video games and collect a C+ average in school. This does not concern Eve in the least, as C#3 never would have happened, if Adam hadn’t gone to the Local Discount Vasectomy Surgeon. C#3 won’t burn down the house only playing video games, so Eve isn’t worried.

Adam, loving husband, father, works in middle management, performing a job which even he has no idea how it benefits the company, and lives in fear, daily, of downsizing. Adam has never laid a hand on Eve, rarely spoken in anger to her. He looks forward to arriving home from work, where he can begin to watch re-runs of Everybody Loves Raymond, until the Pizza Delivery Man arrives with dinner.

This is Eve, the prototypical county office worker. She is the basis for all county office workers. There are, of course simple variations on the base design. One unit might have four children instead of three. One might be working on marriage number two. Another will enjoy both Everybody Loves Raymond and According to Jim. They are like the different options packages available on cars. The SX gives you the CD player and automatic windows and locks. The LX gets you all of the SX options plus leather, moon roof and a tilt steering wheel. Such are the women who work at the county Recorder’s Office.

The one thing everyone should know about the Recorder’s Office is that there is enough work to keep two Eve’s busy for an entire 8 hour day. Occasionally there is enough to be done to require a third Eve for part of the day. All of this work can be performed by an Eve while conversing with her co-workers. Every Recorder’s Office will be staffed by at least two more Eve’s than they will ever need. At any given time you can look up from your research (if you still have control of your body) and see three games of Free Cell in the works. So what do these clones do to pass the time? They talk to each other. And now I will try and replicate a typical conversation for you here.

Eve: -and then Raymond said he was sorry, and then Deborah said she forgave him.

EveSX: I think I’ve seen that episode. It was a good one.

EveDX: Has anyone seen Shark?

EveLX: You know what we should do? We should all go and see Flicka!

Eve: That’s a great idea.

SX: Yeah!

DX: That new TV show Shark?

LX: We could all go to the Olive Garden, then see Flicka. It would be our Flick Night.

SX: OOOHHH! Flicka Night!

DX: Shark?

Eve: Well, it can’t be on Thursday, because that’s my Date Night.

All Eve’s: Mine too!

Eve: or on Wednesday, because that’s our Church Night.

All Eve’s: Mine too!

Eve: How’s Tuesday?

SX and LX: Yeah, that should work.

DX: So no one has seen Shark?

Eve: Oh, Shark? That new TV show?

DX: Yeah. It was a good one on last night.

(DX proceeds to give a play by play of last night’s Shark episode, nearing in length to the actual episode. The other Eve’s join in to correct any details that had fallen through the cracks in DX’s story, as the only person in the room having not seen the episode is me, and I’m not even officially part of the conversation.)

SX: Have y’all seen the new Intendo? The W-I-I? I don’t know how to pronounce it?

LX: Yeah, it costs $250. That’s just too much for any video game. But C#3 wants one, so I think we’ll try to get him one.

DX: I saw someone got killed over a Play Station.

Eve: It’s got that weird controller that’s two parts.

SX: You can use it to go fishing.

LX: Or play baseball.

DX: They stabbed him and took his Play Station.

Eve: I just think that’s too much. And this new Play Station, It costs even more.

LX: Someone’s going to get killed over one of these things.

DX: That’s what I’ve been saying!

I get to experience this a few times each week. With the exception of the few courthouses that have separate research rooms. I love those courthouses.

Stay tuned for the other highlight of these excursions to the Recorder of Deeds Office: Filing For Marriage Licenses; or “Do we both have to be divorced to get married?”

I'm Sure Their Parents Are Proud

'Crazy Bitch.' This song has been, for most of this year, a party anthem for all the women in the club. Choose your club, gentleman's or otherwise, and you'll likely hear the Buck Cherry caterwauling away about a girl who, though crazy, is good for humping. And for Mr. Cherry, that's enough to keep the 'Crazy Bitch' around.
The song is, without a doubt, catchy. It facilitates dancing, employs a simple, driving rhythm, and demeans women, all at once. I understand this part of the song.
What I do not understand, is the spell that this song seemingly casts over every girl in the club. I watch (from the comfort of a barstool, as I rarely venture out onto the dance floor myself) as the periphery of the dance floor vacates during the opening riff of the song, and recognition dawns on most every girl in the place. They drop what they are doing, called by their new anthem, and pull the nearest girl out onto the dance floor with them, where they proceed to gyrate and grind on all of the other 'Crazy Bitches' on the dance floor. "Attention all guys: This song perfectly describes me. I'll hump you eight ways till Sunday, then boil your rabbit. See, I'm Craaaaaazzyy!"
I have never heard a song that I related to as much as these women seem to with 'Crazy Bitch.' I certainly would not want to relate to a song that reduced me to a sexual toy, good for nothing else. When the song 'Alcoholic Douchebag' comes out next summer, you can bet that I won't be the one dragging my guy friends out onto the dance floor to flail about while proclaiming to every patron of whatever bar, that we are proud to be 'Alcoholic Douchebags.'

I first noticed this phenomenon earlier this summer. I thought it would be a passing craze, even in today's Hyper-ADD world, where fads last only slightly longer than a Brittney Spears marriage. But here it is, the year is almost over, dozens of new party songs have been released, all equally catchy, all equally dance-able. But 'Crazy Bitch' has more staying power than I gave her credit. I under estimated the power of the song. Or maybe I over estimated today's young woman. Most of the women I encounter who find themselves under 'Crazy Bitch's' spell are in college, ostensibly earning a degree to help them better their life. They are, arguably, in the best place to elevate themselves from sex object to someone of substance. Yet they will still be found, every ladies night, drinking $.50 rum and diet cola's and showing the world that they are nothing more than a sex object. And a crazy one at that.