I don’t mind the occasional tongue swab in a professional medical setting, but if things don’t get better, they could get worse, and we could easily (if we stop paying attention and get lulled into some sort of stupor) get into a situation where The Authorities could start asking us to lick any manner of medical or test devices of some sort and, speaking for myself, I don’t want to start doing that at this particular stage of my life - I’ll stick to the normal things that need to be addressed by my tongue while it is outside my mouth, as it were, such as Ben and Jerry’s™ “Pistachio Pistachio™” and envelopes and like that. You know what I'm talking about.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m for DNA tests. Nothing wrong with a good DNA test, I always say. The truth will out, so to speak. Truth is beauty, beauty truth, and so on and so forth. I know that those people that line up the little blue lines to prove that it is in fact my saliva there on the Ben and Jerry’s™ spoon are Highly Trained Professionals.
But we all know that doing the same thing, day after day, eventually turns into three-hour intervals, then one-hour intervals, then fifteen-minute intervals, and then one-minute intervals, and then right after you think that you are lucky because you figured this Demented Scheme to Oppress Your Creative Ability and Talent out before your old grandpa, and just before you start looking for a sensible (at least to you) reason to seek an Alternate Career Opportunity with Maximum Options, time seems to slow down like for the guy sitting in that spinning teacup thing and pulling the lever back in that H.G. Wells™ movie with Yvette Mimeaux™ and the green twistoids that lived in the Underground Factory. And I myself personally don’t want some freaky green mammal dude with with Jonnie Winter™ hair and a penchant for Moi Tar Tar with fries and a Coke to be doing my DNA test. You get my drift, here, right? This is a dude that might accimentally screw my DNA test up even though it’s a perfectly valid scientific test, right?
I say make the tests more interesting. Make every one different. The people that make the box that the test comes in should redesign their package, to start off. White with little black letters and a bunch of Latin crap is no good. Boring. Worse than boring, even. We need more colors and lights. Spinning thingies and rainbows and colors flashing to keep us on our toes.
There are thousands of different ways that DNA Scanners could be implemented into Modern Society. Take spitting, for example. In the Old West, there was a flower pot deal made of brass for everyone to dribble into. That’s no good. All the DNA gets all mixed up in there! Who knows what kind of disgusting…wait. I’m drifting.
Say you wanted to quit chewing tobacco because your girlfriend or your boyfriend is all torqued out about it. You have a big giant hammer connected up (Boeing™ could do it, or Burt Rutan™) to the DNA Scanner in the brass flower pot and when you spit in it, the DNA Scanner sees that it’s you and whacks you right in the face real hard with the big giant hammer and a recording says “Chewing tobacco is a disgusting nasty habit and you should stop it before the hammer comes back!” or something. Or if you are reaching in the refrigerator for something with your saliva already on it, like a chili cheese dog left over from yesterday or half a Godiva™ truffle or whatever. Wham! Diet City. No Cattle Baron’s Cut of Prime Rib for you, champion. Broken jaw, you sip Campbell’s Cream of Tomato Soup™. Slowly. Am I right? You know I am.
I say stop all crime now! Get some Automatic DNA Scanners made up to look like big fake Hubley Atomic Disintegrators™ and put them on big light poles on every street corner. All you have to do is connect them up to the traffic lights. If anyone does not stop when the red light comes on, a big giant Q-Tip™ comes out of the big fake Hubley Atomic Disintegrator™ and wipes the perp’s tongue and pulls it back into the big fake Hubley Atomic Disintegrator™ and down the pole to the Analysis Section down underground just like the Jonnie Winter™ hair green dude except it’s the Automatic DNA Test. If you moved after the red light came on, you’re a pancake.
Your Other Half is drinking too much Milwaukee’s Best Lite™? The DNA Scanner on the refrigerator turned red, you say? Connect it to another DNA Scanner in the bathroom and on his second leak in a 60-minute period, knock his ass out with that big giant hammer before he even starts up again with the Never Ending Drunken Argument From The Depths of Hell. He can relax in the shower. Are you with me on this?
Set up everything with green and yellow and red lights and stop everbody that is trying to run the red lights, I say. Set up the DNA Scanners everywhere, and connect them all up to each other. Talk in the phone and whoever you call will know it’s you because you are breathing on your phone and not some crazy person dialing the wrong number or trying to make trouble of some sort. If somebody steals your trumpet and tries to play it, the DNA Scanner turns on a little red light and then actuates the spit valve which opens automatically and dumps right on their cardigan. That will put them off trying to play the trombone in a flash, I kid you not.
DNA Scanners With Lights and Hammers is the way to go for me personally. I’d rather be wearing a top notch space suit with a big giant hammer and a DNA Scanner on it and have a good retirement plan and dental insurance than be walking around like a common peasant worker leaving DNA samples all over the place and not knowing I had a good steady job or where my next Royale With Cheese™ is coming from or what in the world is going to happen next or when I might miss a red light and get hit right in the face with the big giant hammer, and that’s the truth.
