Nobel Prize Winners: Those Rat Bastards (Thursday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. My writing is just too profound to come in in the middle. It's like an enigma wrapped in a post, wrapped in a blog, wrapped in yesterday's newspaper. Any hey, if you like what you read, please consider becoming a subscriber. At the $600 level you get this beautiful tote bag with Peter Paul and Mary on it. Okay, I can't compete with PBS.

But it's free and easy and you will get some weekly insider info and discounts on other stuff of mine in the works. No sales people will call you. I won't even call you... unless you want me to and force your phone number on me.) 

So, what were we talking about? Oh right. A blogger had implied that Louise Brown, the first baby born via in-vitro hit the jackpot when she was born into being, voila, an instant celebrity.

I don't know. There are a lot of things you could be famous for in this life: Pioneering a billion dollar business, spear-heading a new way to save the Earth, graduating college at the age of fifteen. Anybody out there want to be known for the way they were conceived?  

Hm... How many of us would love to have our friends, family, neighborhood, city, state, country and planet know every detail of our conception?

How would it really be to have the international headlines read: "Awkward Sex in the Hall Closet in Toledo Leads to Birth"?  Wouldn't you love to hear cutie patootie Anderson Cooper say:

"Imagine casually dating an acquaintance until something better came along... and nine months later you had a baby. That's what happened to Sioux City's David Morgan and Stacy Leach.

We're going to follow baby Devon and give you monthly updates over the next forty years to see  how he turns out."

What a privilege.

What if conception reporting was commonplace? Watch out for the birth announcements:

"On September 27, Michelle and Steve Jones of Tarrington welcomed a baby boy. Joseph Seth weighed 6 pounds, 8 ounces. He is the first grandson of Melissa and Norman Jones of Dover and the second grandson of Ida and Kyle Olson of Manchester. 

Joseph arrived at 6:03 PM, a few days late. Michelle believes he was conceived on December 20th when Steve came home tipsy from a company Christmas party, started to undress, and passed out in Michelle's direction, knocking them both to the floor beneath the mistletoe and pinning her between the carpet and himself.

Michelle states that after several minutes of trying to free herself from the dead weight, she realized that she, literally, held her only hope to awaken Steve in the palm of  her right hand, which was trapped between them.

Michelle added that she had successfully awakened Steve using this method hundreds of times before and felt confident that it would solve the problem at hand, but had no incling that it would lead to such a blessed event nine months and a few days later.

The happy couple has been married since two months before Devon's birth."  

Clip that out and put it up on the refrigerator.

So, maybe Louise Brown didn't get such a great deal afterall, having the whole world scrutinize her entire life because of how she was conceived.

Although there probably are a lot of worse things you could be famous for:  Getting drunk and vomiting on the White House lawn or dancing bottomless for a friend's camcorder that ends up on You-Tube, goes viral and gets picked up by MTV.

Or you could be famous for being the first idiot, (blame it on a busted GPS) to try to smuggle drugs into Mexico or for shop-lifting clothes at Wal-Mart or accidentally overdosing on their generic Equate brand of aspirin.

Or for being on any reality show with a place in its name.

Or for being caught on camera scratching yourself at the Superbowl.  

You could probably fill thirty stadiums with all of the absolutely nightmarish things we could all be famous for.  When you look at it that way: Who really cares if everyone knows our dads did our moms? They probably already suspected anyway.

Listen, I gotta go. I have to decide on my Halloween costume. I admit, my costume priorities have changed. Twenty years ago it had to be sexy. Ten years ago it had to be humorous. Now it just has to be toilet-user friendly.   

I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.

I know I gab on and on, but if you have another sec, check out this week's article in "The Health Experts": "Partnering with Your Reproductive Endocrinologist: Why Don't We? Why Should We? by Julia Krahm and Shari Stewart.