First, I'm going to pretend that the former governor of Illinois didn't try to get on a reality TV show, then send his wife instead, then feel loved because she ate the dead tarantula he should have eaten.
But to answer the question, I'd need more input. Could I cook the dead tarantula? Maybe deep-fry it with some rosemary and parmesan, then serve it to myself over a bed of linguine?
That wouldn't sound so bad. I'd eat that just out of sheer curiosity.
I'm an urban fantasy author with Harper Voyager, and I now have two novels under my belt. (Hurrah!) Afterlife and Feast are available for purchase just about anywhere and either one of them will temporarily make you forget about doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom or paying your bills. I love writing scary/romantic stories and I firmly believe in HEAs. I'm an animal lover and a tree-hugger and I sometimes forget that I'm wearing my PJs until I go outside to get the mail.
It sounds like it's straight out of Vanilla Sky or Minority Report.
Apparently a company named New Line Genetics wants to add you to their library. They'd like to purchase the patent to your DNA and they're willing to pay you $5,000.
To me, the creepiest part of their "Sell My DNA" Web page is the testimonial by a couple who sold their DNA to start a college fund for their twin daughters.
Talk about an identity crisis.
So, my question of the week is this: Would you sell your DNA for $5000?
2 comments:
First, I'm going to pretend that the former governor of Illinois didn't try to get on a reality TV show, then send his wife instead, then feel loved because she ate the dead tarantula he should have eaten.
But to answer the question, I'd need more input. Could I cook the dead tarantula? Maybe deep-fry it with some rosemary and parmesan, then serve it to myself over a bed of linguine?
That wouldn't sound so bad. I'd eat that just out of sheer curiosity.
Mark,
I'm with you, bro! I can't believe his wife is paying his penance.
Ick! Double Ick!!
I say we give all future dead tarantulas to MR. Blogojevich.
Tell him, Now, Blogo, you can't go out and play with the other politicians until you clean your plate!
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