For a mere many hundreds of dollars, a company called 23andMe will scan a sample of your DNA and draw up what’s called a genomic profile—revealing your predisposition for all sorts of memorable diseases and bodily shortcomings. You’ll learn every flaw in your broad genetic makeup. You’ll discover which of your genes have “negative mutations.” And you’ll be made aware of all the horrible afflictions you’re at an increased risk of contracting. Scientists describe this as a sort of gateway to a new human utopia, and it’s easy to see what they mean—just think of the comfort and serenity that will come from knowing precisely which ailments and syndromes to be anxious and hopelessly depressed about for your entire life.
Once a Silicon Valley start-up, 23andMe is named for the twenty-three pairs of chromosomes that contain our DNA. More important, the name respects the horror-movie tradition that all shadowy, fear-inducing corporations must have benign, cutesy monikers. Think about it: if your genetic code reveals a crammed minefield of infinite possible deaths, hearing the grim tidings from something called “23andMe” will definitely soften the blow. The bad news: you have a predisposition to every single malady that can afflict a human being. The good news: our company name rhymes!
I, for one, am psyched about what 23andMe and other burgeoning gene surveyors mean for humanity. After all, I was getting a little worried that as a species we were finally getting a handle on the whole racism thing—but soon we’ll have a vast new area of prejudice: inferior genetics. When accused of bigotry, you can just say, “But I can’t be prejudiced—some of my best friends have a genetic predisposition to type 2 diabetes.”
And the guilt! This will herald the biggest development in human guilt since the emergence of Judaism. Already we ignore health-based research, advice and common sense as it applies broadly to the masses. But now we can fail to follow precise guidelines tailored specifically for our genetic makeup and risks. In the same vein, how do you think people will respond to good genetic news? With care and restraint? Ha ha. Hey, my genetic structure lacks the negative mutations associated with an increased risk of heart attack—I think I’ll have some bacon on my burger. And on my ice cream. And on my other bacon.
Here’s how the whole making-your-life-a-tedious-procession-to-your-predictable-demise thing works: 23andMe sends you a nice little box that holds a small vial. You remove the vial and spit into it. Then you spit into it again. You spit into the vial for about ten minutes to ensure there’s a sufficient amount of saliva for 23andMe to tell you what will probably kill you. (It was so much easier in the old days when your grandmother just came out and told you it would be masturbation.)
You then courier your spit to California, where top scientists in lab coats pour your spit over a computer chip and wait two weeks, passing the time by forming origami birds from your many hundreds of dollars. Then comes the thrill of discovery, followed by—in chronological order—the thrills of regret, disbelief and abject misery. Wired magazine calls genomics “the birth of a new industry”—whereas I call it “our generation’s greatest contribution to giving young people still another reason to hold a grudge against their parents.” You won’t buy me a car and you saddled me with an 8 percent increased probability of contracting glaucoma? I hate you!
And this is just the beginning. Right now, 23andMe offers what’s known as “genotyping”—a high-level analysis of your genetic makeup for the telltale variations that make you different from other humans (example: you are unlike Miley Cyrus because all of Miley Cyrus’s DNA are shaped like a penis). But in the near future it’s expected that 23andMe and other firms will be able to examine all six billion points of your genetic code, giving you heretofore unimaginable insight into your genetic structure, and giving strangers an entirely new reason to reject your sexual advances in nightclubs. (“A 12 percent increased risk of lactose intolerance? There’s no way you’re sticking that genome into me.”)
Some scientists believe genomics will ultimately increase the human lifespan by a decade. Sadly, that decade will be spent sitting quietly in a darkened room, petrified to go outside because of our 4 percent increased risk of skin cancer.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Technology is great at solving problems. For instance, I used to have the problem of being able to sneak out of work to go see a movie, but my iPhone “solved” that. Now people can instantly make me work, even at night. Thanks, technology!
What other problems have you solved for us lately?
Life’s problem: Those people from high school that I hated—is there any way to get them back into my life?Technology’s solution: Facebook.
It used to be a real chore to get in touch with people you were desperate to lose touch with in the first place. But thanks to Facebook, it’s a snap to renew acquaintances with all sorts of long-lost semi-friends and remind yourself why you shunned them in the first place.
Facebook is also a great way to let friends know what you are doing. For instance, if you are just hanging out, you can adjust your update to read “Just hanging out.” If you are regretting having accepted as “friends” so many people from your past whom you actively disdain and resent, you can adjust your update to read “Lethally mauled by puma.”
Life’s problem: Not being lousy enough at driving to perish in a fiery crash of one’s own making.Technology’s solution: Texting behind the wheel.
Back in the good old days, a swerving vehicle meant one of only two things: either the driver was stinking drunk or it was invisible animal season in Gary Busey’s head. (A moose—veer right!) Now it’s more likely to be some dickhead thumbing a message on his or her cellphone.
Lots of jurisdictions have banned texting while driving, which has completely solved the problem in Opposite Land, where people pay attention to such laws. It has also angered some teens. One high school student in Utah recently tried to counter the perception that “all teens are always texting all the time.” Not so, he wrote. In fact, one of his friends said of texting while driving: “I only reply if it’s a good conversation, but if it’s just ‘Hey!’ then I won’t [reply].” Surely it will comfort the family to know their boy was so discriminating in sending his winky emoticon before the impact of the crash shattered his pelvis.
Silly kids. They just don’t get that a ban on texting will allow drivers to focus on more important things. After all, those fingernails aren’t going to paint themselves.
Life’s problem: A lot of stuff written on the web is too thought-provoking. Any way we can dumb it down?Technology’s solution: Twitter.
Twitter is awesome if you’re a big fan of celebrities or spelling mistakes. Spend a few days with it and you’ll find it hard to believe we ever lived in a world where we didn’t know what The Rock was having for lunch. Plus, Twitter gives the traditional—or “dying”—media a faint whiff of relevance. Half of CNN’s programming day is now filled with anchors reading the Tweets of HotMomma176 and BigDawg33. Why pay Christiane Amanpour the big bucks when Ashton Kutcher is tweeting his analysis of the Iranian election for free? “I dont know that we shloud B jumping in2 this Iran deal,” Kutcher opined in a view that, if memory serves, echoes the recent US intelligence report entitled Options 2 B Considered by Prez re: Iran deal.
Still, one wonders how long Twitter can stay popular. Like many people in this fast-paced world, I have trouble with the site’s limit of 140 characters per Tweet. Simply put, that’s way too many characters.
That’s why I’m introducing a new messaging utility of my own.
Welcome to … Bwhh.
Bwhh allows you to keep in touch with friends, update colleagues and perpetuate the illusion that your daily tedium has subtle undertones of meaning. But it does so while keeping postings to a more reasonable number of characters: nine. Also, no vowels.
Did you totally sleep in? Let the world know you totally slept in. Just log on to Bwhh and type: “Ttl slptn” Future generations will cherish your
insight into the human condition.
Did you come across something really boring on the internet? Warn everyone with Bwhh: “www=zzzzz.”
Did seeing a dog in a pet store window make you sad? Don’t keep that kind of gold to yourself. Bwhh it! “dg = frwn.”
Bwhh is the future of social messaging and desperate cries for attention. Start Bwhhing now before starting to Bwhh makes you seem helplessly trendy.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The world’s authoritative text on mental health is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Updated by psychiatrists since the 1950s, it lists all the ways in which humans can be nuts, and therefore features many big words and several photographs of Dennis Rodman.
The book—known among mental health professionals as the DSM—is constantly being revised and expanded by the American Psychiatric Association (APA). Mental illnesses are studied anew for each edition. This is very controversial, and not just because marrying Sean Penn hasn’t been included yet.
Potential disorders that have vied in recent times to make the cut include:
Sex Addiction: Defined as “a pattern of repeated sexual relationships involving a succession of lovers who are experienced by the individual only as things to be used,” this condition wasn’t given full disorder treatment in the DSM-5. Is that because it would classify as mentally ill several former US presidents, all former Backstreet Boys and every man ever featured in a Coors Light commercial?
Binge Eating: This “illness” is described by psychiatrists as “a serious disorder in which you frequently consume unusually large amounts of food.” Statistics indicate it afflicts one out of every one Kirstie Alley.
Pathological Hoarding: Long considered a symptom of obsessive-compulsive disorder, hoarding has now been classified as a disorder all on its own. Sufferers just can’t let go. Think of old people with stacks of magazines from 1942, or Stephen Harper with power.
Internet Addiction: According to the APA, this addiction “consists of at least three subtypes: excessive gaming, sexual preoccupations and email/text messaging.” This raises a number of questions, such as how the APA gained access to my browser history.
And the list goes on. Do you go shopping a lot? You have a mental disorder. Are you “pathologically” biased in your views? You have a mental disorder. Are huge quantities of food disappearing from your fridge at night? You have a mental disorder—or Garfield as a house guest. Either way, you’re deeply troubled.
If some psychiatrists get their way, there will be yet one more affliction added: being bitter. Apparently, bitterness is not just a feeling we all have at some point—it’s a mental illness! Begin fitting The Cure, Rush Limbaugh and Squidward for straitjackets—they’re all loco. So are Billy Bob Thornton, Jennifer Aniston and every person in the world after three beers.
Under proposed changes, the state of being bitter will be officially classified as post-traumatic embitterment disorder. One news story quoted the German psychiatrist who named the affliction as saying of its sufferers, “It’s one step more complex than anger. They’re angry plus helpless.” Angry plus helpless? In Canada we refer to that condition as “winter.”
Enough already. Bitterness is the birthright of every citizen and the default state of every Baldwin. It’s a sign that we are alert and awake to the variety of ways in which our world is conspiring against us. I ask the American Psychiatric Association: If being consumed by a sense of injustice is wrong, why did God invent blogs and ulcers?
I suppose it could be argued that psychiatrists are just keeping up with the times. The twenty-first century is all about feeling special. We’re buoyed by people following our bursts of adjectives and emoticons on Twitter. Our kids are handed Olympic-calibre medals for finishing a 2K fun run. People as special as us can’t just be weird or unwilling to exercise self-restraint—we have to be ill.
Yesterday’s bad habit is today’s mental disorder. And today’s mental disorder is tomorrow’s pharmaceutical solution. How long will it be until drug companies have created new pills for these new disorders, complete with new side effects involving even longer and more dangerous erections? The New England Journal of Medicine recently discovered that more than half of the 137 psychiatrists working on the DSM have ties to the pharmaceutical industry. One US professor found DSM working groups in which “every single person has ties” to drug companies.
But at a time when even good old-fashioned bitterness is under the disorder microscope, perhaps it’s optimism that’s the real mental illness. There’s no good reason to feel it. There’s no rational excuse for expressing it.
Fear not, those of sunny disposition—I’m sure they’re working on a pill to “cure” you. In the meantime, to prevent serious injury, be sure to immediately consult your psychiatrist if you experience a smile lasting longer than four hours.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Many economists waste their time studying a variety of data to forecast where the economy is heading. The truth is they need only consult the one indicator known to be foolproof: the index of Utterly Pointless Innovations in Beer.
The theory is so simple that an actor in a Coors Light commercial could understand it: if beer companies are investing millions in the development of highly expensive and Utterly Pointless Innovations, the economic outlook is promising.
Think back to the sweet times of 2006. The economy was strong. The stock market was soaring. And actual university-educated people were actually employed to make the mountains on Coors Light labels turn blue when the contents were “ice cold and ready to enjoy.” In the dark ages before this advance, beer drinkers had absolutely no way of knowing when their beer was cold—apart from several ways, such as touching it.
(This technology was widely mocked, but consider its potential. With only a few tweaks, we could use it to determine when our coffee is still hot enough to drink, or when Nicolas Cage has finally stopped overacting. Has he turned blue? No? Then I think I’m going to skip that next National Treasure movie.)
In addition to successfully creating a thermochromic liquid crystal process for its flagship brand’s Cold Activated Bottle, Coors forked out to develop the Vented Wide Mouth can and a Frost Brew Liner capable of “locking in” the beer’s Frost Brewed taste. The vented can has an opening 8 percent wider than that of a typical can, to deliver—as Coors so eloquently puts it—“a smoother pour [and] a draft-like experience that reduces the vacuum or ‘glugging’ effect.” More important, it make beer go into face more faster!
(Alas, millions of helpless frat boys are still waiting for Coors to develop high-tech “content-sensitive technology” that lets them know when their beer can is empty.)
Still, we could sleep easier at night as a society knowing that innovation of this magnitude would never be pursued if brewers sensed that a slump in sales was coming.
Years later, the beer-based indicators are very different. Consider some of the more recent innovations made by the brewers of the big three American light beers:
The Miller Lite Vortex bottle. This design boasts “specially designed grooves” that create a “vortex” as the beer is poured. Indeed, MillerCoors claims the bottle’s shape will allow the beer inside “to flow right out.” Does that mean drinkers of Miller Lite were having trouble figuring out how to get the beer out of the regular bottle? (Spoiler alert: probably.) Sadly, a beer company crowing about a bottle design that lets the liquid “flow right out” is like McDonald’s unveiling a revolutionary new cardboard box that allows a Big Mac to “be removed for eating.”
Bud Light Lime. For what felt like years, Budweiser focused on trumpeting this brand’s “drinkability”—a long and expensive campaign that ultimately succeeded in convincing us that Bud Light was neither a solid nor a gas. Alas, the brewer’s only innovation of recent note has been proving it is possible to put beer and lime togethe
r and make them taste like Nick Nolte’s sweat after a tequila bender. The company also released Bud Lime Mojito—because what’s not to like about lime, mint and light beer, other than a liquid combination of those three things? Presumably, next summer all the bros will be sucking back a Bud Light Cool Ranch Dorito and saying things like “Bro, Cool Ranch me!”—to which the other bro will reply, “Bro!” (I think I’ve got that right. I’ve been studying Rosetta Stone Bro.)
The Coors Light Cold Activation Window Pack. The Coors Light brand claims to be “known for continuous beer innovation.” A recent “innovation”? The Coors Light Cold Activation Window Pack—which sounds wordy enough to be pricey and neat but is, in fact, nothing more than a small hole in the beer case that allows us to see if the mountains are blue and the beer is cold.
A hole. In a box. As indicators go, it’s enough to prompt the governor of the Bank of Canada to warn of our imminent return to a barter economy.
There are some small signs of hope out there. The makers of Sam Adams recently began producing a new beer glass that was the result of “two years of scientific research, thousands of hours of taste tests and dozens of rejected styles.” It features a narrow top, to sustain the head, and laser etching along the bottom of the glass to ensure “constant aroma release” (which, coincidentally, is something that I have achieved involuntarily after drinking Sam Adams).
But the clear message of the index of Utterly Pointless Innovations in Beer is that the recovery is weaker than feared. Get out of the stock market. Wait before buying a house. You will know better times are ahead when you see a commercial for a can of Coors Light that boasts Romulan-style cloaking technology and five razor blades on the side for a crisp, full-bodied shave.
The Future and Why We Should Avoid It Page 24
