Those of us with fond memories of the "Aggie Cold Fusion" debacleand bizarre reports of long-term alchemical research (well-funded, too) by topAggie scientists could hardly have been more delighted by the triumphantproduction of "Copycat," the kitten newly cloned at Texas A&MUniversity.
Why does it seem to have surprised no one that this was done at A&M? Forthat matter, why should anyone have failed to suspect that the Aggies spentyears trying to turn lead into gold? Hell, they turned an "Agricultural andMechanical Institute" into a "University," didn't they?
Whether Aggie science has succeeded in turning DNA into gold is perhaps themore relevant question. The theory is that the commercial potential of cloningis in pet reproduction. People with plenty of money will be willing to pay tohave their pet cat or dog "with them always."
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Why, you may ask, shouldn't institutions of higher learning get in on theaction and extract their share of funds from the idle rich? (We can be sure thatLittle Orphan Annie couldn't afford to get her pup cloned without a check fromDaddy Warbucks.)
The rich may be different from you and me, but they are demonstrably no lessgullible.
Architects exploit them shamelessly. When I lived in Houston, people weremaking a killing selling nuclear bomb shelters in River Oaks and Memorial.Lead-lined rooms in the center of the house were de rigeur, as essential asAudubon prints and books supplied by decorators, who bought them by weight.People with a little less money were all buying the same cast-iron curbsidemailboxes. Musically-inclined lawyers would want to sit in with blues bands,having spent upwards of $40,000 on hobby gear to try to recreate the soundLightnin' Hopkins got from a borrowed guitar and his fingers.
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So ubiquitous were the custom stretch limos that entire cities appeared to becaught in warring funeral processions. When the limos reached the cemetary, theoccupants would sometimes pay an arm, a leg and a neckbone to be buried near thebig carved face of Jesus with the eyes that "follow you everywhere, in anydirection, seeming to move as you move." That they would not themselves bemoving could be counted upon to escape the attention of a reliable few.
The stupidity of new money is one of the oldest, not to say richest, Americanstories. Can you say Enron?
New money combined with access to advanced technology can be one of thescariest.
It was enough to make even that old reactionary, Allen Tate, "view withalarm," to use one of his favorite phrases. In 1950, in a talk called"To Whom is the Poet Responsible?" he raised the question of "howmuch natural knowledge should be placed in the hands of [people] whose moral andspiritual education has not been impressive?"
What sort of people was he talking about? "By such [people] I mean themajority at all times and places, and more particularly the organizedadolescents of all societies known as the military class."
Or, in the case of Texas A&M, the "faux military" class,complete with make-believe uniforms. Never mind Tate's dismissal of majorityrule -- what else would we expect from a reactionary? And it is safe to assumethat by "moral and spiritual education" Tate did not quite have inmind Jerry Falwell or Bob Jones.
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To observe how far the level of Tory discourse has fallen since Tate's day,we need only ask when was the last time we were able to imagine an institutionsuch as Texas A&M being effectively attacked from the right?
The Aggie kitten is indeed cute. A&M's estimate of the commercialpotential of pet cloning is probably shrewd.
But Texas has already given us Bush II. How much would you be willing to betthat no one in Texas has yet discussed -- in the presence of someone with plentyof money -- the possibility of cloning Ronald Reagan?
(David Vestis a regular writer for CounterPunch,where this piece first appeared, as well as a poet and piano-player for thePacific Northwest's hottest blues band, The Cannonballs)
