Nobel Prize

Nobel Prize Winners: Those Rat Bastards (Friday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. Let me know if I get more or less funny as the week progresses.) So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Louise Brown, the first baby born via IVF... and Dr. Robert Edwards, the "Father of IVF", who just won the Nobel Prize. Actually, he had a co-conspirator: The late Dr. Patrick Steptoe.

There's a children's book in there some place. Maybe: "Louise Has Two Daddies" (Three if you count her real one.)

And even more important than all of her daddies: Did you know that Louise Brown has a younger sister? And that Louise Brown was the first baby born via IVF in the entire world and her sister, Natalie, born just four years later, was the fortieth? Talk about your sibling rivalry.

Oh the pressure. Your sister wins Olympic gold and you come in fortieth. Your sister wins the New York City marathon, and you come in fortieth (which by the way, is still damn good.)

Your sister wins the Superbowl and you come in fortieth. (Of course, your sister couldn't possibly win the Superbowl except as the cheerleader or the quarterback's wife- at the moment anyway... and of course there aren't 40 teams in the NFL either. I'm losing all kinds of credibility here, aren't I?)

I remember when Prince Harry was born, all you heard was: "The Heir and the Spare." I remember thinking: "Great. This kid was just born and they make him sound like a tire laying in the trunk of the car (or should I say "boot"?)  

It's like being Jamie Spears, Ashlee Simpson, Nikki Hilton, Chad Lowe, Casey Affleck or whichever Baldwins aren't Alex.  

I think everyone expects, or you expect that everyone will expect you to be as fantastic as your famous sibling. And, having failed at that, they then expect you to buy a one-way lifetime ride on the Wannabe-go-round:  Slut, druggie,  shop-lifter, alcoholic, "C"-list Reality Show Star;  Slut, druggie, shop-lifter, alcoholic, come-back "C"-list Reality Show Star.

Even though, naturally, I was always the superior sister who excelled at everything... and I mean... everything... I think I may be able to relate.

It reminds me of when I did stand-up comedy. You never wanted to be the "And you were good too" comic. 

The show was over. People crowded over to the little comedians' table. Someone would look at one of your fellow comedians and  say: "Man, you were amazing! I never laughed so hard in my whole life. That bit you did about the car was awesome!" Then they'd see you sitting there looking pathetic and say, looking in nobody's particular direction: "Oh......And you were good too."

So, what do we know about Louise Brown's younger sister Natalie? Turns out she has her own claim to fame. She may have been the fortieth IVF baby born, but she was the first one to have her own baby (naturally) in 1999,

Wait, she was born in 1982. That means she was only seventeen when she gave birth. So, thankfully, I don't think she's spent her whole life on the wannabe-go-round: Slut,druggie,alcoholic, shop-lifter,reality show star.  At the very most, and I can't say because I don't know the girl, she rode one horse and then jumped off.

Listen, I gotta go. The State Fair's this weekend and people are starting to line up for the new featured, much anticipated food item (This is for real): Two Crispy Creme donuts with a.... fried hamburger between them. I think I'll beat the crowd and just get in line for the bathroom. 

If you haven't already, please do check out this week's featured article in Health Experts by Julia Krahm and Shari Stewart: "Partnering with Our Reproductive Endocrinologist: Why don't we? Why should we?"

And consider becoming a Laughing IS Conceivable subscriber: You get some insider stuff. It's free, a couple of questions, and I promise not to bother you any more than I normally do.  

I'll talk with ya again on Monday.

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.

Nobel Prize Winners: Those Rat Bastards (Wednesday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. The phrase "Rat Bastards" has more umph if you see it written three consecutive times.) So, what were we talking about? Oh right.  A blog I read that blames Dr. Robert Edwards, the "Father of  IVF" and Nobel Prize winner for the Octomom. Well, it's true. Nadya Suleman needs help with her 72 kids. What kind of a father has Dr. Edwards been to them? He probably wasn't even there for her almost reality show.  

The blogger further kvetches: 

"Louise Brown: The world's first 'test-tube baby' doesn't just owe her life to the Brit who played around with some sperm and made her for Lesley and John Brown back in 1978. She's a bona fide celeb. And all she had to do was be born!" 

I don't know about you, but I've played around with sperm a lot. I've never been able to make a baby with it. You know when you were a kid and you put glue on your hand and let it dry and then peeled it off? Well... anyway.

So, these two brilliant scientists just "played around with sperm" and John Brown's baby was born with a cold upon her chest and they rubbed it with camphorated oil. (If you don't know the song, I must sound like a lunatic to you about now.)

Anyway... I had no idea that's all there was to this whole IVF jazz.

I was under the impression that these scientists put years and years of research into in-vitro and then you went to a doctor and had a million tests and sonograms, and people poking your uterine lining and took zillions of pills and hormones and shots and got anesthesia and they took eggs out of you and then they put them with the sperm and then implanted them back in you and then you waited and then you were pregnant or not and then if not you had to start all over.

I never realized it was just a couple of guys playing around with sperm. Then again, if they told us that, who would pay $15,000?

And then there's the bit in that warm, fuzzy, post about Louise Brown being  a celeb. (I assume she means "celebrity". I don't know that Louise Brown is celibate.)

"All she had to do (to be famous) was be born."

I've never heard of anyone just being born into fame, have you?

Not Prince William or Prince Harry. Not Madonna's daughter, Lourdes, or Brad and Angelina's three biological kids...or anyone else whose parents are on TV or in the movies, or singers, or rich, or mobsters, or royalty, or politicians.

So let's wikipedia Louise Brown and see exactly how she has manipulated the media and completely exploited her status as the first baby born via IVF, shall we?

Okay, she was a postal worker. And a baby nurse. How dare she? Who the hell does she think she is?

Then she got married and had a baby your usual, run-of-the-mill, after-dinner and a movie conception. So where's the reality show? Where's her mug shot? Where's the weekly stints in rehab? Where are the photos of her singing the national anthem at sporting events? Or the ones of her stripping? Or in Playboy? Or dating John Mayer? Or, at the very least...very, very, least... very least... signing a contract to be on "Dancing with the Stars"?     

What kind of a sucky celebrity is this Louise Brown? It's been 32 years already. You'd think she'd have had at least one decent scandal.

Listen, I gotta go. I'm determined to dig up some dirt on this Louise Brown, test-tube baby extraordinaire or maybe I'll just dig up some on that hateful blogger chick.

I'll talk with ya again tomorrow. If you can't bear to log off just yet,  check out this week's article in "Health Experts": "Partnering with your Reproductive Endocrinologist" by Shari Stewart and Julia Krahm.

Nobel Prize Winners: Those Rat Bastards (Tuesday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. After I slaved over a hot computer for hours and hours, the least you can do is read it. Did images of your mother just come crashing into your head? Sorry about that.) So what were talking about? Oh right. How it's impossible to please everyone... so you got to please yourself. (Is it just me or did James Taylor just infiltrate my blog?)

For the past few days every article I've read has congratulated Dr. Robert Edwards, one of two scientists behind IVF, for winning the Nobel Prize. Of course I read a lot of infertility sites.  Some of the general public ones were, shall we say... less complimentary.

So, this one woman Jeanne  Sager writes on her blog:

"Robert Edwards winning the Nobel Prize for  an official stamp of approval on the man who gave us Octomom." 

Okay... Okay...Okay... Nope. I still don't get it. What exactly does this man who came up with a break-through procedure in the 1970's have to do with Nadya Suleman, a possible nutcake who had octuplets in 2009?

Oh wait. It's coming to me now. He developed something that somebody misused thirty years later. And that's his fault.  Obviously.

Damn all of those ingenius people in the world!


It's Thomas Edison's fault that people got the electric chair.

It's also his fault that singers use profanity on their records. 

It's Henry Ford's fault there are drunk drivers.

It's George Washington Carver's fault kids have peanut allergies.

It's Pampers fault that babies pee themselves.

It's Martha Stewart's fault women poison their husbands' dinners.

It's Elmer's fault that people sniff glue.

It's Benjamin Moore's fault that people sniff paint.

It's Benjamin Franklin's fault that golfers playing in a storm get struck by lightning.

It's Jack Daniel's fault that people are alcoholics.

It's my husband's fault that the VCR was set for the wrong show and I missed my football last week.

It's dumb Karen's fault that Frosty the Snowman melted.   

It's my mother's fault that I have such a negative attitude.

It's Lucy's fault that Charlie Brown needs a chiropractor. 

It's William Shatner's fault his new sit-com is tanking. 

It's Wal-Mart's fault we're all wearing square-shaped clothes. 

 Wait, what were we talking about?  

Listen I gotta go. I have to go do some positive mantras. I still haven't forgiven my husband, Karen, my mother, Lucy or Shatner.

I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.

If you can, take a look at this week's article in "The Health Experts": Shari Stewart and Julia Krahm discuss: "Partnering with our Reproductive Endocrinologists: Why don't we? Why should we?"

Nobel Prize Winners: Those Rat Bastards (Monday)

Last week I all but ignored mentioning that the co-pioneer of IVF, Dr. Robert Edwards was awarded the Nobel Prize. I figured I'll just stay mum, and wait it out. I figured everybody else was talking about it and what was funny about it anyway? I didn't see anything much to say about the news itself except: Great job Bob! But I had a feeling eventually somebody would somehow say something extremely idiotic about the whole thing and it would burn me up and get my little fingers and especially my middle ones (there's a reason they're the longest) ratt-a-tat-tatting on the keyboard. It didn't take very long.  

One day last week I wrote about an infertility support room moderator who wrote me a "Hate Lori" letter. I tried to join her group and wrote something inflammatory like:

"My blog, Laughing IS Conceivable is designed to de-stress those going through infertility."

The moderator responded by saying she didn't see anything humorous about infertility and I shouldn't be making fun of those going through it. (Did she ever once cut and paste my link into her browser? I wouldn't think so.) Anyway...

As I mentioned this week to those of you who subscribe to this blog:  When I did stand-up comedy years ago, I was doing a benefit. They got all of the performers into a room a week before the show and passed around a hand-out that said: "Nothing in your performance can offend ANYBODY!"

I turned to my friend and said: "That's impossible. One of us could start talking about mowing the lawn and 2 horticulturists and a landscaper would get up and walk out."

So, of course, I naively thought the entire world was elated to hear that the "Father of IVF" (why does that sound redundant to me?) had won the Nobel Prize for his advances in science. Turns out giving this man that award is very, very, controversial.

So I'm thinking...Okay, what did Bob do?

Did he have a broad on the side during his research?

Maybe he was touching his research assistant inappropriately? Working on creating two babies in the lab at the same time: One on the table and one under it?

Maybe he's a skin-head.

Did he  steal the secret IVF formula from a poor intern and pay him 20 pounds to disappear? 

I know. He was a drug addict alternating sniffing glue and shooting up Gonal-F in the lab.

What is it already! What did he do?!

Apparently the horrible deep dark truth about this man who developed IVF is that: (Drum roll please--I feel like I'm on the Jerry Lewis telethon)  He developed IVF. 

And those who think IVF is anti-American, anti-GD, ante-bellum,anti-freeze, antidisestablishmentarianism, Auntie Mame...and who the hell knows what else...want him to give his Heisman trophy or whatever they gave him, back.   

So this week let's sharpen our can openers and lift the lid off that can of worms shall we?

I think you'll be interested in meeting some of these people who are up in arms about the award and to hear what other things that of course have never personally affected any of them in any way...also outrage them.

Listen, I gotta go. Last week I said I would tell you about some good online infertility info and support groups, but being prematurely senile (premature by a week or two) I forgot.  I'll add them to my blog roll this week....Somebody remind me.......