April 19, 2006
While purebreds have historically been the choice of status-conscious dog owners, there is a new craze for the canine connoisseur — the hybrid. The jug is actually a Jack Russell mixed with a pug and the puddle or is it puggle is a pug mixed with a poodle. I am assured they are very cute but I've seen the now-famous poobrador and besides the fact that I don't think any self-respecting breed should have a name like that, it is a really big dog that requires a really big haircut. Breeders are hoping to avoid some of the pitfalls of inbreeding among purebreds yet a doggie sexual free-for-all resulting in a bunch of great mutts doesn't hold a financial incentive. So now the designer doggie hybrid rules, hoping for the best of both breeds.
Some things go well together like "You got peanut butter in my chocolate. No, you got chocolate in my peanut butter," and celebutantes but others just aren't a match like the short-lived Baskin & Robbins ketchup ice cream. In order to feed our society's need for bigger and better, it is inevitable that the proverbial primary colors will be mixed since who wants red, blue or yellow when you can have mauve or seafoam?
The hybrid car is finding favor with ecologically conscious consumers who want to have the choice of getting away from fossil fuel oil consumption but don't want to entirely give up the reliability of good old gasoline. What I don't understand is the need to combine a tank with a SUV – I wonder what potential danger Hummer drivers in the Hamptons face. I also have to question a government that will give a $25,000 rebate to a Hummer buyer and only a $4000 (at most) rebate to a hybrid owner.
Now that we're even tinkering in genetic engineering like the broccolini, what would happen if we engineered a true man and woman hybrid — a moman (not to be confused with a Utah religious sect) or a wan. Would we get the best of both and find a moman who would be strongly silent and subtly nurturing or would we get a wan who would always want to talk about feelings and never want to ask for directions? The hybrid could provide a sexual boon of no headaches and tons of foreplay. Or it might be a financial liability with huge Neiman Marcus and Home Depot spending habits. How would "estosterone" or "testrogen" play out on our hybrid's hormonal life? What would a midlife crisis crossed with menopause look like? The personal ad might read "hot flasher seeks young hottie for ego gratification."
The central question is if we put a man and a woman together in one head, would there suddenly be understanding and enlightenment, like "Aha, this is what you've been thinking all these years," or would it be like throwing a Coke down a can of stairs, full of explosive, messy possibilities.
Maybe in the end our moman or wan will go the way of the ketchup ice cream as two things we enjoy separately but definitely not together. But jugs — those could be the wave of the future.
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