Here's something you can look forward to; living not just longer but living forever. That's right. Just think, if you live forever, that might be enough time to see the Buffalo Bills make the playoffs.
Living forever is not a provision in Obamacare yet, but getting a new body might be just around the corner. Can you look into the year 2025? A customer is in the pharmacy waiting in line for a new body. The attendant removes the new body from a hook, "Here it is Mr. Gingrich - that'll be a copay of $4 million, and for another $442,000, we can fix you up with an extended warranty which includes the Hugh Hefner memory package."
How silly is the idea of replacing a warn out body with a new one? Well such an idea is not foolishness to a futurist scientist named Ian Pearson. He believes that immortality can be available soon.
New bodies will become available and the all we have to do is upload what's in our brains to a computer; then the uploaded computer would transfer all that brain gunk into the new brain. With your new Brad Pitt 4000 and uploaded brain, you're set for another 20 years.
So, I'm not the kind of guy to wait around to be the last kid on the block to live forever. I started uploading my brain onto my Mac the other day. I plugged a wire into my ear, one under my tongue, ran a third cord to my modem and here's the transcript of the upload into my computer app Super Brain.
Whew, that was one heck of a ride. Here I was floating around all comfy in my womb and life was a breeze. I just finished eating, was sucking my thumb, and then somebody seemed to flip a switch. There was a rumbling and a bumping and it looked like it I was getting tossed out so I started screaming, "Hey wait a minute, don't I have anything to say about this!!!?"
I'm hanging onto my mommy cord for dear life and wham, I'm getting squeezed, scrunched, and I'm really getting angry. I'm grabbing for ovaries, fallopian tubes, gall bladders, anything I can hold onto. I DON"T WANT TO GO AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!! Lot's of luck with that declaration.
Before I know it, I end up in some guy's hands, get my butt whacked, and then realize all that racket is me screaming my guts out. I WANT TO GO BACK!!!!
Wait a minute, that's a pretty cute nurse. Maybe its not so bad here after all.
A few months later, life is starting to get a little interesting. I'm getting kind of bored looking at my fist so I decide to make some noise. Gaga, goo goo,ga ga googoo, blurp, blurp, hmm hmm caca. (as you can see I was way ahead of my peers in word development Any kid at 3 months who could put together googoo, blurp, and caca at that age was destined to write a brilliant monthly column in the OBSERVER.)
I'm eating some decent food finally. Those meatballs and sausage is certainly better than another mouthful of that glop oatmeal. And that dago red is a lot better than formula.
I wonder if that stuff that I eat ends up where I sit and I get that yucky feeling. I don't like that feeling and the air around me isn't exactly like a flower. I think I'll cry so somebody empties that stuff.
I just tried to walk across to my Mom and I smashed my head against the table again. Jeech, that hurts. These big people that I live with keep encouraging me to do this and I keep banging my head. What are these people, crazy? I'm not ready for this, yet.
You'd think the guy with the big nose who goes all goofy when I call him dada would know better. With that belly he hauls around, you'd think he'd understand that I just started crawling and I'd like to keep it that way for awhile.
I wish I knew how to say, "Hey, I've got the rest of my life to walk. What's the rush? If I need something you guys who know how to walk can get it for me. And all that stuff in my pants doesn't help any, either. What good is it if I can walk and I'm stupid because I keep bouncing my head off of these pieces of wood that get in my way?
Oh my gosh, there's that song again. Don't these people know anything else besides Incy Wincy Spider? Over and over I'm sick of Incy.
Incy Wincy spider climbing up the spout. That's great; sing to me about spiders, they're such a lovely of a creature. What are they going to do next, sing to me about cockroaches because spiders aren't creepy enough? Then maybe they can sing to me about snakes and rats. How cute. "Incy Wincy snake climbed up the crib and and ate the baby."
"Down came the rain and washed Incy out."
Wonderful, now they want me to think about a spider screaming and clawing for its life as he's being washed away in a flood.
Then the sun comes out and Incy dries out and comes climbing back up the spout really ticked off for being nearly killed and he's coming after me with angry intentions. Whatever happened to Rock a Bye Baby?
Now that I'm thoroughly repulsed by spiders, I have to put with The Wheels on the Bus going round, round, round. Wipers on the bus going swish, swish- doors opening and shutting-horns going beep beep beep-gas going glug, glug, glug,- people saying,sh, sh, sh,-money going, clink, clink, clink. If this song doesn't end soon, I'm going to fill my pants and make my mom go yuck, yuck, yuck.
Well, here I am at almost 2 years old and I've still got that stuff in my pants. I'm getting a little tired of this. Maybe that potty that my mom keeps putting me on has something to do with avoiding that stuff.
Now that I'm 2, I'm saying words like dada, mama, and the always popular poopy. I did pretty good yesterday when my dad said, "roll that bocce ball to daddy." That pretty much explains the gardune cookies and that hair I have on my top lip. I point to it and my dada calls it mustache. I don't see my friends with one. I guess that means I'm Italian.
It's kind of tough being a kid with a mustache. Tomorrow my dada says he's going to show me how to shave.
Nin Privitera is a Fredonia resident. Send comments to editorial@observertoday.com
