You walk down the the hallway to your daughter’s room, holding a package you’ve prepared especially for her. Today is her twentieth birthday, and you will reminisce about the past and remember when you first met your wife, who was then around the age that your daughter is now.

Around this time, almost twenty-one years ago, you and your wife were distraught because of your inability to have children the old fashioned way. Thus, you went to a specialist to debate the various options available to you, a rich couple with too much money and time on your hands. Between the choice of getting a surrogate, adopting, and the recently perfected option of reproductive cloning, you and your wife choose cloning. Because your father had stipulated the conception of a granddaughter before he will release his fortunes to you, the two of you choose to have your wife cloned.

Your wife is ugly now, old and wrinkled, but your daughter has grown up, the picture of health and flushing youth.

Happy Reproductive Cloning Day!

Inspired by my own horrified thoughts on the topic in my Philosophical Ethics class and Bob Power’s Girls Are Pretty blog.

or, THAT OBLIGATORY FIRST POST.

I’ve written quite a few opening paragraphs and decided they were rubbish so I’m going to cut my usual fluff and get right to the meat of things: the introduction. At the moment, I’m a high school senior. Things like snappy Lightroom interfaces and ripped tights excite me. If you’re still curious, I have two more paragraphs of narcissistic drivel written in the third person in the about me section.

What is cyniquentially (and ergo, cyniquence)?

First and foremost, this is a blog – not only that, but my plans dictate it to be a personal blog with lifestyle leanings. Namely, it’s going to be shallow and contain much too many pictures. And I’m going to have much fun writing it, because I figure it’ll put my suppressed exhibitionist tendencies to good use and hone my typing fingers while I’m at it.

Now before I scare off everyone older than 15, I’ll also put up front that this blog is not going to be an intimate one. Meaning if ever my brain fluids start running out of my ears and I pound out a five thousand word treatise on a b01cRusH! and introduce it with a poem, this won’t be the place I post it. (And heaven forbid me write it.)

As for the actual word/name cyniquence itself, well – it’s comparable to Frankeinstein’s monster. Here’s the recipe*:

• Take a fascination with the concept of the 7 Deadly Sins
• Take an quantum leap to extract consequence from it
• Layer on a bit of cynicism
• Distill for 14 minutes over a Bunsen burner

_{[*] Disclaimer: Please don’t misunderstand, I really do hate dislike chemistry as a subject of study; I’ve never taken anatomy before.}