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Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.

Unless you're as bored as I am.

Brain Farts: One For the Road
	By Kevin Gibson February 20, 2002

I read last week that scientists in Texas have successfully cloned a domestic cat.

Naturally, my first question was, "Why?" (But I don't want to get into the whole dog vs. cat thing here. Say I were to argue that there is no such thing as a "rescue cat" or a "police cat" or a "seeing-eye cat," illustrating a dog's superior worth. The cat fans would only point out that those types of cats don't exist because only the dogs are dumb enough to be duped into doing man's dirty work. And so it goes.)

What's really interesting to me is the notion that this is going to be an amazingly successful business venture. Those within the research program, which is called CopyCat (good lord), say this is the way to replicate that perfect family pet that died.

"There are so many people who would do this, I am just totally convinced," Dr. Betsy Dresser, who leads a separate cat-cloning effort of the Audubon Nature Institute in New Orleans, told The Wall Street Journal. "Sit on an airplane sometime and talk to people whose Fluffy has cancer, or whose Fluffy just died. This is the way to revive the pet in their minds."

I understand that better than anyone. But wouldn't it cheapen the effect? Think about it -- if you have a whole desk drawer full of candy bars, you're more likely to sit there and munch away like some kind of aborigine than if you have only one. That one gets saved for a special time, and each bite is savored instead of gobbled.

What if Fluffies were as plentiful as candy bars? I can just see the commercial for CopyCat now: The irresponsible pet owner who never remembers to close the door behind him accidentally lets Fluffy out while retrieving the morning newspaper, and Fluffy runs into the street and gets mangled by a car.

Mr. Irresponsible slaps his forehead and says, "Oops! Time to make a new Fluffy!" He takes the mangled body into his neighborhood CopyCat store, and in just a few weeks, he returns to pick up his brand new Fluffy. Then the voice-over tells us, "Thank goodness for CopyCat -- now pet lovers never have to rely on God again." Then we switch back to Mr. Irresponsible, holding his new Fluffy, who says, "It's just like the real thing!" Then the cat jumps out of his arms, runs out of the frame and we hear the screeching of car tires. Mr. Irresponsible then looks into the camera and shrugs as Tom Jones' "What's New Pussycat?" plays in the background. Fade to black.

So tell me this: Why isn't anyone trying to clone endangered species?

E-mail the writer at kgramone@aol.com. Meow.