SuzannaB’s questions about whether I think food from clones is “yucky” prompted me to take a look at the lighter side of cloning.
Sometimes a little humor lets us see the absurdity in extreme perceptions and stances on a subject. The comic strip “Mother Goose and Grimm” is currently doing a series on meat from cloned animals (parts 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5).
Like most depictions of cloning, these cartoons show that it produces a bunch of full-grown carbon copies of an individual, identical in both body and mind (a complete myth in all parts, by the way). Cloning has inspired artists and writers for decades, usually with much darker and less humorous results. In many books and movies, cloning is a black magic power to resurrect, simulate, and multiply, usually with dire consequences. These depictions tap into primal human fears about identity theft and loss of self, as well as what New York Sun writer Andrew Stuttaford called “humanity’s fear of its own ingenuity” (see his interesting survey of Hollywood’s treatment of cloning here).
Unfortunately, by the time Dolly was born, the word “cloning” had become almost completely taken over by a horrifying fictional meaning, which has clouded and confused discussions about cloning ever since.
Pundits and cloning’s opponents like to imply that cloned meat tastes bad, or more accurately, leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth. For some people, the idea of meat from clones provokes a knee-jerk reaction of “yuck”. In reading many, many reactions to the FDA’s announcement on the safety of meat from cloned animals and their offspring, I would classify the vast majority as gut-level rejection or knee-jerk. So no, SuzannaB, I don’t find the idea “yucky” and am actually quite comfortable with the meat that may eventually reach my table with its origins in a cloned parent, grandparent or other ancestor.
A closing thought: As a Mom, maybe the ultimate revenge on my children would be to clone myself and make them raise ME.
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