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July 8, 2005

Volume 3, Issue 8

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Zack had shown signs of nonconformity even in the womb. His mother had, in an attempt to instill culture, tried playing classical music to him in the womb, but he had kicked so much she'd had to try something else. She tried soothing sounds, waves, seagulls, jungle sounds, soothing pools, all to no avail. Desperate, she tried country music, jazz, blues, until finally, in desperation, she tried head-banging heavy metal. Zack immediately calmed down, and from then on it was an easy pregnancy.

Now, lying in the neonatal ward, listening to his favorite headbanging music, he smiled. And made doody.

Posted by: hnumpah at July 8, 2005 5:58 AM · Permalink

Nursery Ward #82, or "The Matrix," was designed exclusively for newborns who could, even in their infancy, pass Dorr's intelligence test. For seven hours each day, the infants listened to narrations of the modern philosophical works: Descartes' Meditations, Spinoza's Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect, Berkeley's Dialogues, etc. After narrations they took lunch, then two hours of visitation by parents, then a nap, then three hours of the classical composers, and after that, bed. MENSA swore this would work, but didn't count on the warm, firm comfort afforded by a pair of Sony InfaSurrounds putting the newborns to sleep.

Posted by: G-Do at July 8, 2005 6:06 AM · Permalink

(Click)

(The Star Spangled Banner begins playing softly)

"This is your President speaking. As newborn red-blooded Americans, it is your duty to assist your nation in spreading democracy to the world, whether they want it or not. It is incumbent upon you, upon reaching your eighteenth birthday, to enlist in the military service and fight for this lofty goal, and die for it if necessary, whether it be in the Middle East, Asia, Africa, or anywhere else our nation may see fit to send you. Thank you."

(Click)

(The Star Spangled Banner begins playing softly)

"This is your President speaking..."

Posted by: hnumpah at July 8, 2005 6:20 AM · Permalink

Everything was ready. Black-clad, wearing a pack bulging with equipment, DJ checked his watch a final time – thirty-seven seconds.

No reason to be nervous, he thought. Nat says she’s done it lots of times. Ten more seconds...

Go time. He slipped through the door leading to the nursery and grinned, imagining the looks on the nurses’ faces when they came in that morning.

Sure, it was expensive – eighty pairs of headphones, splitters, and one crucial CD. But it was worth it. This was the rising generation – the future of our world.

And now they would be safe from Van Hagar.

Posted by: Keiran Halcyon at July 8, 2005 6:23 AM · Permalink

The nurses in the ward thought it was fantastic. The researchers made CD's of popular childrens' songs, nursery rhymes, and other soothing sounds, played them through headsets for the newborns, and noted the results. The babies rested better, and the amount of crying declined considerably.

But Doctor Morris was a bit warped. He took an old, scratched recording of the theme song from the 'Howdy Doody Show' and made a four hour CD of it playing two words, over and over... "... Doody time... Doody time... Doody time..."

By the time the nurses discovered it, they were knee deep in it.

Posted by: hnumpah at July 8, 2005 6:36 AM · Permalink

Patterson looked up from the turntable, doubt clouding his expression. “But sir, Hall and Oates represented distinct genetic anomalies. Do you really believe that they can be replicated?”

Major Dunning stared through the thick glass, his jaw set. “It isn’t a matter of what I believe, or what I want. Blue-eyed soul is what this country needs, goddammit. Now do your job and keep that funk flowing.”

They were interrupted by the door swinging open as the head nurse burst into the room. “Sir! Beta-2 is biting his lower lip--and squinting!”

Major Dunning’s visage curled into a smile. “Righteous!”

Posted by: Hubris at July 8, 2005 7:30 AM · Permalink

There was no way to get it through Congress so the ACLU spearheaded litigation. They argued to the courts that it was about fairness and equality under the Constitution. Besides, it was very European.

The media chose not to report this minor story. Of course, there were some hate-filled nutcases who started ranting against it on their web pages. As usual, they were ignored. Some parent advocacy groups took a stand against it but were quickly and silently crushed.

The verdict of the Supreme Court was split five to four. Air America found listeners and went up in the ratings.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at July 8, 2005 11:23 AM · Permalink

“They’re newborns. They can’t roll by themselves so they won’t strangle on the cords,” the captain explained. “The headsets dampen outside noises and we play soft rhythms to keep them pacified. Of course, the polyorganic gowns eliminate any excretions. All you have to do is provide them sustenance when they demand it.”

“Yes, Captain,” she replied meekly. As if on queue, there was a tiny, plaintive wail. She walked over and presented it with a teat. It suckled the nutritious milk.

The Spican genetic factories would pay a lot for this cargo. Easily manipulated, designable, and obedient. Beings like her.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at July 8, 2005 12:07 PM · Permalink

He loves visiting the nursery. Those sweet little faces! Such a change from his regular duties.

“This is something new,” he pointed to the headphones that each little one wore.

Mary smiled, “What with the longer waits, we just don’t get the volunteers like we used to.”

“Who wouldn’t love to sit here and cuddle?”

She laughed, “How about asking some of yours? Why such sweet things aren’t as popular.”

Mary snaps her fingers, a green blanket floats through the air, and tucks itself around a waiting soul, “Aren’t you due back, Peter? Mind your wings when you turn around!”

Posted by: Darleen at July 8, 2005 12:59 PM · Permalink

The baby propaganda drones on as the babies sleep.

Baby 1 “You will become a plumber, a fine and honorable profession.”

Baby 2 “You will become a lawyer, a fine and honorable profession.”

Baby 3 “You will become a teacher, a fine and honorable profession.”

Baby 4 “You will become a computer scientist, a fine and honorable profession.”

Baby 5 “You will become a journalist, a fine and honorable profession.”

Baby 6 “You will become an accountant, a fine and honorable profession.”

Baby 7 “You will become a doctor, a fine and honorable profession.”

Baby 8 “I’m a little teapot….”

Posted by: Terry at July 8, 2005 2:42 PM · Permalink

"This isn't funny any more. I can't think. Someone please put on something classical. We've been listening to this same fuckin' Kylie CD for twenty years and we're not getting any younger. Is anyone popping out down there. Only we're out of ciggies. Now what I was saying is Bush had to know, he's got the suit and everything and that bin Laden guy's blatantly wearing makeup. And a bra... Hey, are you guys even listening?"

Posted by: Dom at July 8, 2005 8:08 PM · Permalink

It was a tragic, if slightly comical, incident. The tabloids had a field day with it.

It was accidentally discovered that the music of John Tesh had an unusual side effect. A drunken guest at a Las Vegas show featuring The John Tesh Experience had passed out, and ended up listening to his music for 12 hours straight. When he awakened, his age had physically regressed by ten years.

Soon there were "Tesh clinics" all over.

Last week it seems that there was a mix up, and a room of aging matrons was left on the music for three days.......

Posted by: Gahrie at July 8, 2005 9:26 PM · Permalink

Might seem a strange sight to you but to me it is the privilege of seeing an even mightier ward give birth to a hospital, if you understand what I'm getting at. See, if it wasn't for the cans I don't know how we could get our imports delivered on time, and if our imports weren't delivered on time we would run out of fragile weapons before long and then I suppose the music fades and lights start flashing on and off, what's this for? You think it's so strange but I say your father's comments were downright contemptible. Amen.

Posted by: Dom at July 9, 2005 1:35 AM · Permalink

DEAFNESS KEY TO DEFEATING TERROR

Terrorism experts exasperated at American follies against top terrorists like Gerry Adams have come up with an alternative Chirac is planning to impose by imposing his imposition. Based on the premise 'what you don't know can't hurt you', under Chirac's plan infants across Europe would be fitted at birth with specially developed Michelin earphones filled with the Lord's song. They will not be taught to sign until the 'menace of terrorism has somehow disappeared'. British Prime Minister Tony Blair is willing to use his veto if Britain not receive fishing rights around the Normandie coastline.

Posted by: Dom at July 9, 2005 1:59 AM · Permalink