Recycling daa dee

Deuxième debate:

George: to balance science with human life
John: but the embryonic stem cell lines have been contaminated
by pig cell dna

"To take a life to save a life"

It's just a play.
Called Daa Dee.
Stage left.
Alice high atop a wall
re thinks the limits of capitalism outloud.

"Left or right?" she sighs.
"What is so alarming is that it is everyday products,
things people find almost impossible to avoid,
as well as a legacy from the past that is contaminating people."

Mumbling something about witnessing biology-surrendered,
she eye-spies some tiny little cell deaths on the Cheshire cat
And prays for them in every minute.

"Rest in eternal mitochondrial toxicity" she whispers thoughtfully.

As the curtain falls, she squeals with delight in sight.

"This skin of culture is a country called contamination

Applause and lights light.

During inter mission,
the buzz is all about.
The bar maid states,

"We just don't know what might be considered a safe level
of exposure to these chemicals, especially when they persist
in the body for long periods and react together inside the
body in a potentially dangerous cocktail."

Just then, one Scot in the crowd is discovered to have
the second highest level of PCB contamination in the UK.
But it doesn't matter since everyone points out
that it's Curtain Call time. Back inside the theatre,
someone from the audience whispers as the curtain rises;

"Comfy chairs ooze flame retardants and escape through breast milk".
Followed by a sea of excited shhhhhhshhhs.

Act Two is called.
'Corporate Pesticide Investments Shape Human Neurology.'

Curtain rises on the magnificent The Holy See set.
The stage is crowded with a multitude of players
all wearing really great red outfits by Dolce Ingleheim.
They rush about, swishing Tibetan silk with fanatical devotion.
Meanwhile. Offstage narration:

"The Vatican's official line remains intact:
No none knows the answer to the Pope's Disease".

Just then, someone from the audience with the initials BBC
unexpectedly shouts out loud;

"Our contaminated blood is proof that it's time
for the government and chemical companies to phase out
the production and use of these chemicals and develop
new safe alternatives."

But it turns out to be a musical afterall.
The chorus breaks. Into song.
A sumptuous refrain in C minor that recounts the tale of
Tuesday 25 November 2003 BBC News UK edition 01:47 GMT.
They sing:

" A number of toxic man-made chemicals were found
in the blood of every person tested during a survey by an
environmental pressure group.The tests commissioned by
WWF looked for the presence of 77 different chemicals.
An average of 27 were found in the blood of each person
tested across the UK, with readings ranging from nine to
49...discovered traces which ranged from pesticides to the
chemicals added to some paints and fire retardants...
Politicians have backed calls for action and Green MSPs
want a debate on the issue in the Scottish Parliament. "

"Our contaminated blood is proof that it's time for the
government and chemical companies to phase out the
production and use of these chemicals and develop
new safe alternatives.", solos Dr. D.

"For the sake of today's children and for future generations
it is vital that we make the law as tough as possible to stop
this ongoing contamination in everyday life. What is so
alarming is that it is everyday products, things people find
almost impossible to avoid, as well as a legacy from the
past, that is contaminating people."

Repeat refrain.

"Daa Dee".

The End.


Afterwards, the critics rave.

They write:
What line of flight is this from that ?
Skin of culture becomes Cell Death Regulation.
Profound authorial message in the play's subtext
that bespeaks a sequel. When capitalism's chemical agents
target mitochondria, it signals secret backstage messages
that execute the renowned Death Programme
by endogenous molecules. Loss of mitochondrial energy production
is one consequence of the players' toxic insults
and another major role of mitochondria during cell injury
is to release proteins that modulate the cell death machinery.
Tiny little war machines.

Interesting.
And so well crafted.

But they conclude the ArtoftheCritique
with caspases and their endogenous inhibitors.
Which of course is jargonese for indecipherable trade secrets.
Even Mitochondrial Dysfunction takes on the language
of a capitalistic event. How the language of the play
becomes the player, how the player becomes the technology.
O viscious viscous invaginations.
O frivolous fricative folds.

But sitting here,
while shooting random lines of flightlessness into now
know where it makes good sense to think
that one must have a kind heart to be stuffed inside
a humanizing death wish,
to unstring this nano thread of Capital-State
into concluding re marks remade:
To care is to wage a secret warehouse war
against commodity.
Call it Public domain
catalyzed by Agent Orange.
Spun within the name of everyone's
favourite environmentally acquired
neurodegenesizedparkinsoniandisease
and
to
all
my
friends
without
a
breath.

Christopher Reeve
(1952-2004)
tireless knight of infinite faithinhope
in
a
cure
yet-to-come