Bigger. Shinier. Faker. More-r! That’s the unwritten credo of Las Vegas.
Vegas’ ferris wheel is bigger than your city’s ferris wheel. Vegas’ lights are shinier than your city’s lights. (YOU CAN SEE IT FROM SPACE!) Vegas’ boobs are faker, bigger and shinier than your city’s boobs. (Also probably visible from space.)
So it seemed perfectly natural that last week as I worked in Vegas I would run into an amazing feat of faker/bigger. No, not the artificially distended, skin-covered yoga balls, bolted to the front frames of the women pictured above. I’m talking about something far more amazing: GMO Popcorn.
Yum. I know you hear all the time about the horrors of messing with nature’s proprietary designs (such as infertility and immune deficiency) but let me tell you this popcorn was amazing. Or “a-maize-ing” as our Native American friends might say. Notice how uniformly spherical and large these tasty bits of frankencorn are. Normal popcorn bursts into random shapes with little nodules jutting out from the popped kernel, which then break off and leave you with tinier pieces of popcorn and a ton of broken-off popcorn dust.
Science has found a way to alter the corn’s DNA to produce a better popcorn! And I say consequences be damned. Leave me flu-stricken and childless, but give me my large balls of amazing popcorn goodness! It might even put Maury Povich out of business:
WOMAN: That’s right, Maury, Twan is my baby daddy!
MAN: Can’t be mine, Maury. I’m on that Reddenbacher ish.
Aside from that, think of all the other good that can come from fiddling with genomes. When we have finally perfected corn, let’s work on getting that good corn code into ourselves. We’ll all be the same size; no more worrying about if H&M will have your size. “Oh good, they still have those pants in 32 Spherical.”
Plus when we get eaten by bears, we will be virtually indestructible. All we have to do is pass through the bear’s digestive tract, have a quick shower and get back to our day. You’re right, maybe a long shower.
As an added bonus, Vegas ladies, you no longer need to pay someone to violently shove a plastic bag of salt water (actually, two bags) into your body through holes that did not exist previously. All you have to do is drop some acid — deoxyribonucleic acid from a dairy cow, that is — and head down to Hakkasan to try and not fall over as you balance your newly front-heavy frame on 6-inch heels.
Everybody wins! Thanks, science.