cientists at Texas A&M University received international attention last month when it was announced that they had successfully cloned a domestic cat, the first successful cloning of its kind. The cloned animal was a beloved lab cat named “Mr. Fluffers,� who had met an untimely end in an acid-bath accident weeks earlier.

The research program, known as CopyCat, is rumored to be centered on the possible replication of household pets and the lucrative market this breakthrough could create. However, head researcher Mark Fuerbarker insisted that this first cloning was purely personal.

“Sure, it’s truly a great day for science and for Texas A&M. But personally, I think we’re all just glad to have Mr. Fluffers back,� stated Fuerbarker.

Well, maybe not all of them. One scientist in the lab has gone on record stating that he thinks that they may have made a mistake, and perhaps not for the expected ethical reasons. According to Marty Lomas, who refers to the original cat as “Mr. Fucker,� the cat “was an obnoxious kitty primadonna who they never should have strained out of the acid bath for purposes of DNA collection. That cat was an asshole.�

Lomas admits that his viewpoint is a controversial one in the Texas A&M labs, but scientists from around the world share his concerns. “I’ve seen pictures of that cat they cloned,� confided Norwegian geneticist Olaf Sproutzel. “And it looks an awful lot like this hellspawn lab cat I had once, Blitzen. I swear, that thing could crap its body weight in a day and it always got into my lunch. I hated that cat.�

Lomas expressed equal sorrow at the cloning that didn’t happen.

“They had a $20 million dollar grant to spend on cloning research. They could have tried to bring back any kind of amazing asset to humanity, like Lincoln or MLK, or even Marilyn Monroe, so what do they do? They clone this douchebag cat that likes to leave hairs all over my keyboard and thinks it has the run of the research lab, getting all pissy when we invade its ‘territory’. Fuckin’ knobs. Alright Mr. Fluffers, if you want to talk about territory, we’ll settle this nature’s way with a little ‘survival of the fittest.’ I’ll be right back, I’ve got a claw hammer in my car.�

Lomas chuckled bitterly at the irony of the situation, his grief-stricken coworkers breaking new ground in cloning research in an effort to bring the cat back. He hints that the original cat “didn’t exactly meet a natural end, if you know what I mean. Where were these guys when Gandhi was shot? That might have been worth artificially inseminating some eggs over. But this vain, worthless puffball of a cat? Give me a break. How many times am I going to have to kill this damn cat, anyway? Maybe if I force-feed it enough asbestos these guys will cure cancer.�

ith the rousing success of their recent surprise duet at the Super Bowl, entertainers Terry Bradshaw and Sir Paul McCartney have announced that they are going on tour together soon, and will play major stadium and arena dates in selected cities across America. McCartney, former front man for the band Wings and alleged ex-Beatle, was quoted as saying that he "very much enjoyed Terry's fresh approach to lyrics. He plays fast and loose with the words, and I like that."

The response to the pairing of Bradshaw and McCartney for an impromptu version of "A Hard Day's Night" during the Super Bowl halftime activities was nothing less than overwhelming. The phone lines at Fox were lit up for virtually the entire second half of the game with viewers asking where they might be able to purchase a copy of the song as sung by the two well known personalities. The ragged vocals and fractured lyrics caused many of those inquiring to ask about "that punk-rock song about the hard day's dog" the two had sung. Callers were told that, unfortunately, there was no recorded version available at that time. Spokesmen for both McCartney and Bradshaw hinted that they may spend some time in the studio together soon to rectify that situation, however.

"The other thing I like about this arrangement," said McCartney, "is that, ever since Linda died, I've been looking for someone to sing backup on 'Hey Jude' like she did. Up until now, I hadn't met anyone who had that kind of vocal range and musical intuitiveness that she had. But Terry's 'nah nah nah naaah's' have that certain je ne sais quois that I've been looking for."

Asked for further comment, Bradshaw responded excitedly in a language that was completely unintelligible, waving his arms and gesticulating wildly. His eyebrows shot up and down his tall forehead, his eyes bugged completely out and his tongue seemed to take on a life of its own as it rolled and flopped around in and out of his mouth. "Blah-dah boogah wah wah wah! Hibbidy dibbidy woogah! Manalanna frack!" Bradshaw apparently said.

Hi Grandpa. Mom wanted me to write to tell you that I'm not mad at you anymore for what happened at my birthday party. She says that you probably didn't mean to have a giant heart attack right when everybody was just starting to have fun. She says that I should learn to not be so selfish and learn to consider other people. But I don't know. It's not like it was anybody else's birthday.

Mom says I should forgive you even though my birthday party was a total bomb after the whole heart attack thing. She says I'll have another birthday next year, but I only have one Grandpa. But I bet none of those kids that were there this year will come back next year. Not after they got dicked out of a pony ride and ice cream cake and everything when you collapsed into the cake table. I don't think anyone was having much fun while we were standing around waiting for the ambulance to come, and I think it scared some of the kids when your eyes bugged out like that and you turned kind of blue. I definitely didn't think it was very cool.

But I guess I'm supposed to forgive you, even though I'm going to be a total outcast at school now. All of those other kids with their normal Grandpas who don't hog all the attention, or else are dead and stay out of the way like that, they're going to hang out together now, I can tell. That's the way it always works. I remember the one time Freddy Schneuder's grandma picked him up from school and she called him "Sweet Noodle" in a loud voice that everyone could hear. He still doesn't have any friends, and that was last year. And it's not like she destroyed a major social event, she was just being lame. I'm probably going to have to switch to a private school.

Mom says that if you'd had your choice, she thinks you would have waited until after the gift opening and the cake to have your heart attack. I think she's just trying to make me feel better. If you were that worried about it, why didn't you just stay home that day, or maybe hang out in the lobby of the hospital or something? You probably would have been safe, unless there was a little sick kid or somebody having a birthday party there. But I guess you didn't think of that. Thanks a lot, Grandpa.

Mom tells me that she bets you're really sorry that things couldn't have worked out better and that my birthday party was ruined. And I guess that's a pretty good way to look at it. But to be honest, all I can think is that unless there aren't any kids up there in heaven, you're probably up there pissing all over somebody's birthday party as we speak. Sorry Mom.

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