the biology song 03
ODE TO A CLONE
By John Scalzi
(This originally appeared in America Online's "Howdy" area on March 6th.)
Oh clone, my clone, how can you bear it
To exist knowing you have only one parent?
No zygote you, when haploid cells met
You were produced with a full chromosome set.
And now I can see that you are confused
To discover your genes have arrived slightly used.
To answer your questions is the aim of this poem
You who are like me, my clone, oh my clone.
You were not produced from between sweaty sheets
In fact, you arose from cells scraped off of my cheek.
Your genes gently placed in an egg we provided
And then shocked with a current until they divided.
You sat there a while till it was time to fish
That thing that was you from that petri dish.
(And though it may seem churlish at this time to mention,
we suspect that the dish had post-partum depression).
Oh clone, my clone, don't feel angst or feel grief
Because the genes that you have are not bought but are leased.
You have no mother, but that's no impediment
Indeed, you've bypassed the whole Complex of Oedipus.
To your one parent you can always relate
To do otherwise is a form of self hate.
Who can tell us apart when we answer the phone?
No one at all, my clone, oh my clone.
Think of all the experiences we'll have!
(That is, once they allow you to go from the lab).
I'll take you to places that I've already been
So you can see them once more for the first time again.
Let's go to work, where I think we will find
That we'll get twice as much done in just half the time.
And should we play tennis, our opponents have troubles
As they must play singles, but we shall play doubles.
Oh clone, my clone, I see you are vexed
By ethical issues admittedly complex.
If you are my clone, are you wed to my wife?
And would having two husbands cause marital strife?
Suppose that we clone her? Then what would that be?
Bigamy, polygamy, or polyandry?
Oh, the guilt I would have would go to the bone
If I accidentally slept with your wife, oh my clone.
Perhaps it would be better if we lived all our days
Away from each other -- and go separate ways.
I would stay here and live with my mate
And you would take yours to some other state
Perhaps to Alaska, with Northern Lights blue
To live off the land, in a hut or igloo.
And with a deep sense of pride all my friends would be shown
Many pictures of your house, a Nome clone dome home.
Oh clone, my clone, you impressive feat
The one person born with no help from gametes.
When you have troubles getting yourself to sleep
Do you think on your compatriot, Dolly the sheep?
It's true that we both share our genetic information
But I know that your mind performs its own peregrinations.
In the end I am me, and you are just you alone
You are your own person, my clone, oh my clone.
By John Scalzi
(This originally appeared in America Online's "Howdy" area on March 6th.)
Oh clone, my clone, how can you bear it
To exist knowing you have only one parent?
No zygote you, when haploid cells met
You were produced with a full chromosome set.
And now I can see that you are confused
To discover your genes have arrived slightly used.
To answer your questions is the aim of this poem
You who are like me, my clone, oh my clone.
You were not produced from between sweaty sheets
In fact, you arose from cells scraped off of my cheek.
Your genes gently placed in an egg we provided
And then shocked with a current until they divided.
You sat there a while till it was time to fish
That thing that was you from that petri dish.
(And though it may seem churlish at this time to mention,
we suspect that the dish had post-partum depression).
Oh clone, my clone, don't feel angst or feel grief
Because the genes that you have are not bought but are leased.
You have no mother, but that's no impediment
Indeed, you've bypassed the whole Complex of Oedipus.
To your one parent you can always relate
To do otherwise is a form of self hate.
Who can tell us apart when we answer the phone?
No one at all, my clone, oh my clone.
Think of all the experiences we'll have!
(That is, once they allow you to go from the lab).
I'll take you to places that I've already been
So you can see them once more for the first time again.
Let's go to work, where I think we will find
That we'll get twice as much done in just half the time.
And should we play tennis, our opponents have troubles
As they must play singles, but we shall play doubles.
Oh clone, my clone, I see you are vexed
By ethical issues admittedly complex.
If you are my clone, are you wed to my wife?
And would having two husbands cause marital strife?
Suppose that we clone her? Then what would that be?
Bigamy, polygamy, or polyandry?
Oh, the guilt I would have would go to the bone
If I accidentally slept with your wife, oh my clone.
Perhaps it would be better if we lived all our days
Away from each other -- and go separate ways.
I would stay here and live with my mate
And you would take yours to some other state
Perhaps to Alaska, with Northern Lights blue
To live off the land, in a hut or igloo.
And with a deep sense of pride all my friends would be shown
Many pictures of your house, a Nome clone dome home.
Oh clone, my clone, you impressive feat
The one person born with no help from gametes.
When you have troubles getting yourself to sleep
Do you think on your compatriot, Dolly the sheep?
It's true that we both share our genetic information
But I know that your mind performs its own peregrinations.
In the end I am me, and you are just you alone
You are your own person, my clone, oh my clone.
the biology song 04
A Mad Scientist Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas and all thru my house,
Not a specimen was stirring, not even a louse.
The test tubes were capped and the rat cages closed,
The mold cultures fuzzy, the mice in repose.
The oven kept warm the ebola and pox,
I still need to locate my husband's clean socks...
But that has to wait till tomorrow, I know;
My buggies still need that much more time to grow.
When from the kitchen came a massive explosion,
I leapt from my bed in perpetual motion.
Grabbing my lab coat I pulled on my pants,
Struggling into them a sick sort of dance.
With fury and haste I put on a shirt,
Running out of the bedroom on feet black with dirt.
Buttoning my lab coat and donning a mask,
I ran into the kitchen holding an Erlenmeyer flask.
I nearly passed out when the man who I saw,
dressed in containment gear sealed without flaw,
Held high a huge sack with his arm stiff and straight,
I could tell he must have a hard time with his weight.
Through the mike from his suit he said without pause,
"Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas, I'm Hanta Claus!"
Over his shoulder he hefted the sack,
We walked into the living room, I offered a snack.
He took it and smiled, placed the sack by my bench,
Instantly I noticed the Clostridium stench.
Brimming with joy, I cried out with glee,
"Did you bring all of these germies for me?"
"Oh yes," said Hanta, "I must show propriety;
By bringing you microbes, I'm saving society.
"You are the only one who loves these diseases.
Therefore I'm glad to oblige who it pleases."
Delirious with excitement I sat by his side
While he gave me a year's stock of microscope slides,
And pasteur pipettes, drug resistant bacteria,
Such as staph, strep and cultures from the genus Neisseria.
The gleam in my eyes caused the house to be lit,
The moment he gave me a gram-staining kit,
Clostridium tetani, perfringens and sporogenes,
Salmonella typhi and Streptococcus pyogenes!
Plus viruses known to produce hepatitis,
Herpes, and rabies, yellow fever and meningitis!
But that was not all, he had parasites too,
Plasmodia, trypanosomes and schistosomes true!
Tapeworms and roundworms, plague-carrying fleas.
How sincerely generous, Hanta did aim to please!
At long last he said he must now go away,
His sled was experiencing radioactive decay.
"Thanks for the presents," I said, shaking his hand,
"They'll keep me off the streets, you understand."
Hanta Claus smiled and bid me goodnight,
Shouting "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good blight!"
Twas the night before Christmas and all thru my house,
Not a specimen was stirring, not even a louse.
The test tubes were capped and the rat cages closed,
The mold cultures fuzzy, the mice in repose.
The oven kept warm the ebola and pox,
I still need to locate my husband's clean socks...
But that has to wait till tomorrow, I know;
My buggies still need that much more time to grow.
When from the kitchen came a massive explosion,
I leapt from my bed in perpetual motion.
Grabbing my lab coat I pulled on my pants,
Struggling into them a sick sort of dance.
With fury and haste I put on a shirt,
Running out of the bedroom on feet black with dirt.
Buttoning my lab coat and donning a mask,
I ran into the kitchen holding an Erlenmeyer flask.
I nearly passed out when the man who I saw,
dressed in containment gear sealed without flaw,
Held high a huge sack with his arm stiff and straight,
I could tell he must have a hard time with his weight.
Through the mike from his suit he said without pause,
"Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas, I'm Hanta Claus!"
Over his shoulder he hefted the sack,
We walked into the living room, I offered a snack.
He took it and smiled, placed the sack by my bench,
Instantly I noticed the Clostridium stench.
Brimming with joy, I cried out with glee,
"Did you bring all of these germies for me?"
"Oh yes," said Hanta, "I must show propriety;
By bringing you microbes, I'm saving society.
"You are the only one who loves these diseases.
Therefore I'm glad to oblige who it pleases."
Delirious with excitement I sat by his side
While he gave me a year's stock of microscope slides,
And pasteur pipettes, drug resistant bacteria,
Such as staph, strep and cultures from the genus Neisseria.
The gleam in my eyes caused the house to be lit,
The moment he gave me a gram-staining kit,
Clostridium tetani, perfringens and sporogenes,
Salmonella typhi and Streptococcus pyogenes!
Plus viruses known to produce hepatitis,
Herpes, and rabies, yellow fever and meningitis!
But that was not all, he had parasites too,
Plasmodia, trypanosomes and schistosomes true!
Tapeworms and roundworms, plague-carrying fleas.
How sincerely generous, Hanta did aim to please!
At long last he said he must now go away,
His sled was experiencing radioactive decay.
"Thanks for the presents," I said, shaking his hand,
"They'll keep me off the streets, you understand."
Hanta Claus smiled and bid me goodnight,
Shouting "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good blight!"
the biology song 05
Hark! The Streptococcus Brings
(Melody: "Hark! The Herald = Angels Sing")
Hark! the Streptococcus brings
Strep sore throat to all who sing,
Chloraseptic doesn't cure it
Other people's sneezing lures it.
If the strep bug has a virus
Scarlet fever then arises,
Cross reaction with the heart
Causes it to come apart,
Hark! the Streptococcus totes,
Toxin and fire to all it smotes.
Pneumonia makes you cough and wheeze,
Mucus fills the lungs with sleaze
A viscous greenish oozing cloak,
That causes you to gasp and choke
Without water you can drown
If you breathe the strep germ down
Hark! The Streptococcus breeds
The misery of a bad disease
Of fecal strep in food beware,
Methane gas befouls the air,
Speedily you drop your pants
As if they held live fire ants
On the toilet you are dying
Bent in pain, guts liquefying
Hail! the Streptococcus means
Glory to those who would be lean
(Melody: "Hark! The Herald = Angels Sing")
Hark! the Streptococcus brings
Strep sore throat to all who sing,
Chloraseptic doesn't cure it
Other people's sneezing lures it.
If the strep bug has a virus
Scarlet fever then arises,
Cross reaction with the heart
Causes it to come apart,
Hark! the Streptococcus totes,
Toxin and fire to all it smotes.
Pneumonia makes you cough and wheeze,
Mucus fills the lungs with sleaze
A viscous greenish oozing cloak,
That causes you to gasp and choke
Without water you can drown
If you breathe the strep germ down
Hark! The Streptococcus breeds
The misery of a bad disease
Of fecal strep in food beware,
Methane gas befouls the air,
Speedily you drop your pants
As if they held live fire ants
On the toilet you are dying
Bent in pain, guts liquefying
Hail! the Streptococcus means
Glory to those who would be lean
the biology song 06
O Humid Night
(Melody: "O Holy Night")
O Humid Night
Anopheline mosquitoes
Are circling you in the hope of a meal.
She takes a bite, saliva from her mouthparts
Drool parasites which you can't see or feel
Your brain can get sick,
You will have a coma
After the rage and the headaches have passed
You're veggie soup, home to protozoa,
Mosquito lands, time to go home at last..
Fall on your knees,
Pale, burning with fever
Plasmodia
Are in your blood, were in your spleen
Malaria
There's no real cure, just in your dreams...
(Melody: "O Holy Night")
O Humid Night
Anopheline mosquitoes
Are circling you in the hope of a meal.
She takes a bite, saliva from her mouthparts
Drool parasites which you can't see or feel
Your brain can get sick,
You will have a coma
After the rage and the headaches have passed
You're veggie soup, home to protozoa,
Mosquito lands, time to go home at last..
Fall on your knees,
Pale, burning with fever
Plasmodia
Are in your blood, were in your spleen
Malaria
There's no real cure, just in your dreams...
Page 16 of 21 «« Previous | Next »»