I am an inked ribbon
fed through an old manual typewriter.
Like all old typewriters,
the machine originated
in the belly
of a behemoth steam punk engine,
one already equipped
with an Artificial Intelligence
so fake that it was undetectable
in any time or space.
Eventually,
all such antiquated machines
must evolve into smart phones
in the hands of semi-morons.
Until then,
I remain just ink
held in suspended animation
until an ancient programmer
codes thoughts upon fingertips
that are still growing
in a stone-age Petrie dish.
The dwindling attention span of a human should bring
us insight into what may be looming..
Recent studies reveal that it's eight seconds now.
I'm struggling to finish this thought some how..
If one put a human brain on a petrie dish,
I guess it's now equal to a goldfish..
Look it up on fact checker if you think it's a lie.
You'll discover that nine seconds has a butterfly..
aka Robert Petrie
The Music Man, starring Dick Van Dyke,
on a Vegas stage being so lifelike,
at the end of the show, he came down to greet fans,
smiles, as he signed my napkin after, shakes my hands.
2020 December 18
Cloning
Frank Halliwell
So Dolly has become a mum!
The sheep world's celebrating
No Petrie dish or vials in sight
It was a normal mating.
Dolly is delirious,
And so is Sam the ram,
Between the two, they have produced
A lively little lamb.
No longer will the world bewail
The fauna on the brink,
..The world's endangered animals,
..The creatures near-extinct.
We'll replace any animal
Or species that's expired
With a tiny microscopic cell,
That's all that is required.
The concept of it dazzles one
Though some will want a ban!
Why, we could clone a million pigs
With just one can of Spam!
And we could now replace them all
If it comes to the crunch,
With just the bits we have leftover
From last sunday's lunch.
***
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