THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, March 15, 1996 TAG: 9603150062
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E9 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Jennifer Dziura
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
IN DOUGLAS ADAMS' ``The Restaurant at the End of the Universe,'' a cow who identifies himself as the Dish of the Day approaches an earthling's table.
The cow offers a pleasant ``Good evening,'' and proceeds to ask ``May I interest you in parts of my body?'' The bovine masochist then explains that he is the result of an attempt to ``breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly.''
But while this, alas, is only fiction, researchers in Scotland have taken steps toward engineering animals more useful to humans - they've cloned sheep.
Why, you may ask, did they choose sheep? The answer is that, well, Scotland's got a lot of them. They were much more convenient than, say, African elephants or giant pandas.
So, basically, this bunch of scientists removed a sheep embryo from a pregnant ewe, which probably confused the heck out of her. Then, they allowed the embryo to divide into several thousand identical cells.
Next, they started messing with more ewes - the researchers took eggs from them, sucked out the genes and then fused those hollow little remnants of eggs to the previously mentioned sheep cells. Finally, they started impregnating other ewes with the identical embryos.
The original ewe, the one which suddenly found herself no longer pregnant, was by this point probably wondering why all the other ewes were having lambs that looked a lot like her and her ram of choice.
In the end, two identical female sheep, named Megan and Morag, survived.
The next question, of course, is this: Why would Scottish scientists want to create an entire flock of identical sheep? (As if sheep don't look enough alike already).
Benefits of animal cloning cited by the scientists include better wool, stronger hooves and human-like, transplantable organs. The last of these raises a disturbing scenario:
Imagine that you are in an accident and require a new heart immediately. You are wheeled into the emergency room. The doctor takes one look at the mechanical pencil that's been plunged deep into your left ventricle and he phones the slaughterhouse. ``Kill another sheep,'' he says. ``We need a heart over here.'' Then he calls his wife to tell her he's bringing home dinner.
But, aside from rendering animals as mere storehouses of spare parts, cloning could have great marketing value.
For example, every time Disney makes a movie, they sell paraphernalia designed to milk parental Americans in the name of children's cinema. But if they could clone animals, they wouldn't be limited to plush toys and plastic dolls. They could, for example, market Lassie.
They could just clone a few thousand limited-edition canines and sell them to adoring viewers. Candidates for cloning also include Flipper, Flicka, Willy, Beethoven (the dog) and Babe the Gallant Pig, to name just a few.
Technology never ceases. But while the possibilities of cloning may be enticing, most of you probably find the practice a bit disturbing - especially you vegetarians. And, in the interest of seeing that you remain disturbed, I leave you with the final words of the soon-to-be-eaten cow at the end of the universe:
``A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good. I'll just nip off and shoot myself.'' MEMO: Jennifer Dziura is a senior at Cox High School. Her column appears
bimonthly. If you'd like to comment on her column, call INFOLINE at
640-5555 and enter category 6778 or write to her at 4565 Virginia Beach
Blvd., Virginia Beach, Va. 23462.
by CNB