Will science render men unnecessary?
The possibility seems real but don't drop your guy just yet
By Brian Alexander
MSNBC contributor
Updated: 10:58 a.m. ET June 27, 2007
I normally don't spend a great deal of time thinking about my sperm.
But recently a team of scientists announced they had made artificial sperm from human bone marrow, and media reports abounded with the dire news that my goodfellas (and by extension, me) had been rendered unnecessary.
If a woman chose to do so, speculated tabloid journalists, she could make sperm from her own bone marrow, fertilize another woman's egg — and voila!
"Men could be completely sidelined," according to Britain's Daily Mail.
"Women to Self Create," blared the headline in Australia's Daily Telegraph.
"Men beware!" began a story on one U.S. news Web site.
There are at least half a dozen reasons why such speculation is silly, some scientific and some practical. For example, as long as sex feels good and remains no more expensive than dinner and a bottle of wine, most people will use natural-grown sperm.
Still, suggests Gregory Stock, director of the program on medicine, society and technology at the UCLA School of Medicine and the CEO of a biotech company called Signum Biosciences, it is very interesting that there were any stories at all. Experiments have created eggs and sperm, so-called artificial gametes, from embryonic stem cells and other cell types for years now with limited success, so the bone marrow work does not represent a giant leap. And the stories are reminiscent of some that were printed 10 years ago when the birth of Dolly the sheep, the first mammal cloned from an adult cell, was announced. We men were declared washed up then, too.
Stock, author of the book "Redesigning Humans," believes there were so many stories recently because such experiments are as much symbol as science. "The importance is just the idea of two women having a child, one creating sperm and other having an oocyte [egg]. Well, what does that say about marriage laws? About whether men are needed? There are all sorts of ways that play into our psyche, who and what we are, what relationships are all about, the limits of the technological vision of ourselves."
I just want to know why you women are in such a rush to get rid of us. Sci-fi and fantasy literature are full of all-female societies like Wonder Woman's home island. New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd penned a friendly little book in 2005 called "Are Men Necessary?" Are you trying to give us a complex or something?
A world without our sperm
So permit me to run with the tabloid visionaries and see where men wind up in a world that does not need our sperm because you ladies are out there making them on your own.
Hmmm. In the near term, men may not be much different than the present. "The concept here that resonates with people is the idea of men not being necessary in some way," Stock suggests. "But men are not really necessary at this point either."
Well, strictly in terms of keeping the human species alive, you women need some of us. You just don't need all that many of us (though we would prefer to keep that under our hats, if we wore hats). We make a glut of sperm, millions of them, so one man can spread a lot of seed.
Sperm banking has long been an important part of in vitro fertilization, just as bull semen is integral to dairy production. Frankly, you only need a small tribe of us guys equipped with porn magazines and plastic cups. You could feed us, groom us and give us a little exercise — pretty much like you do now.
Since sperm has already been made from embryonic stem cells, "it is easy to see how stem cells could go from just being used for research purposes to being used to have kids," suggests David Magnus, director of Stanford University's Center for Biomedical Ethics. "Of course you have the dilemma of needing human experiments but looking at the history [of IVF], that hasn't stopped people and so far it has worked out pretty well."
So let's assume stem cells are used to treat couples lacking sperm, and then to provide lesbian couples with sperm that are genetically theirs, and then a few heterosexual women say, "Who needs men?"
Once a worldwide network of stem cell banks is established (already starting, by the way), the raw material represented by the cells could be used to make any kind of cell in the body, including sperm. Catalogs could be produced the way listings of sperm donors are created now, outlining features and benefits. Women could make a toll-free call.
Stag colonies of men eating Doritos?
Being a man, I will assume that most women would prefer to give birth to female babies, girls being far more competent, intelligent and with less propensity to crash motorcycles. Two hundred years from now, a few isolated stag colonies are inhabited by men who have mutated to survive solely on Doritos. Male language has been reduced to a single word: "Wassup!"
As a guy, I'm not sure that sounds all bad. I like Doritos, and I would no longer pay taxes or shout at my TV when I see certain politicians. The world's problems would be somebody else's burden.
Have at it, ladies!
Of course, I don't really expect to find myself living on Doritos in North Dakota, but someday soon, bone marrow or some other cell type may well be used to create usable sperm, something that could be a tremendous therapy for men suffering from azoospermia — and so lack sperm of their own. Other future technologies like synthetically created genomes, artificial chromosomes and manufactured cells also may be used as part of reproductive services.
And if any of this ever comes to pass, we are going to have to make conceptual adjustments because such developments will further change an already changing outlook on culture and on what it means to reproduce.
"The biggest development in reproductive biology is the birth-control pill," Stock says. "Nobody ever talks about it, but look at the consequences: demographics; aging populations; the sinking population of Europe, Japan; immigration. It's incredible."
Women may not be so essential, either
Men will likely stick around for a very long time, but Stanford's Magnus agrees that we will all have to adapt to new technologies, probably by divorcing sperm, egg and genes from the way we think of children. "I think what we really need is to do a better job of telling cultural stories to ourselves about what it means to be a family and have children. What does ‘having children' mean in a technological age?"
This is a real question for women, too. Eggs have been created in labs, and though we still need your wombs to make a baby, research into "exogenesis" — gestating a "baby in a bottle" — is in its infancy. Roger Gosden, an IVF pioneer, favors the research.
"The arrival of exogenesis would probably herald a host of new opportunities for our species — social as well as biological," he declares in his book "Designing Babies."
So ladies, laugh it up while you can because once those artificial eggs and the artificial womb hit the market, you'll be buying your own dinners at Chez Francoise.
Brian Alexander, MSNBC's Sexploration columnist, is a California-based writer who covers sex, relationships and health.
© 2007 MSNBC Interactive
um okay...... I think someone in the lab has been sniffing too many gaseous fumes latey.
Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with scientists coming up with new ways to introduce fertility treatments to help infertile couple or single people have children (like my brother-in-law and his wife), but this (goes) way out there.
Humans are a sexual species no matter how you look at it, and science will never be able to replace that.
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a Basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the Store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them Peas. They sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?" asked Mr. Miller.
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those Peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it" said Miller.
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is
Blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one Like this at home?", the store owner asked.
"Not zackley but almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you And next trip this way let me look at that red Marble", Mr. Miller told the boy.
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over To help me. With a smile she said, "There are two Other boys like him in our community, all three are in Very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain With them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they Always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all. And he sends them home with a bag of produce for a Green marble or an orange one, when they come on their Next trip to the store." I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with This man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and Their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, Each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho Community, and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that Evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed To accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we Fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own Warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes. Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years Ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles.
With her eyes glistening, she Took my hand and led me to the casket. "Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you About. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about colour or size....they came to pay their debt." "We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho." With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral : We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~
A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself.
An unexpected phone call from an old friend.
Green stoplights on your way to work.
The fastest line at the grocery store.
A good sing-along song on the radio.
Your keys found right where you left them
Send this to the people you'll never forget. I just did...
It’s not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived!
Went to Kat's Jr. High orientation this evening which went very well. Surprisingly, for all the bad things I heard about this school I'm really confused why anyone would be stupid to spread pointless rumours eg: the school being full of thugs, the staff are egomaniacs and other crap like that. I don't listen to garbage, I'd rather like to make my own opinion about things first instead of allowing the stupidity of others taint my perception.
The Math/Science teacher and principal were very nice and actually listened to what I and Kat's classmate's mum had to say (out of 25 students going to grade 7, there were only 2 of us). And not wanting to sound rude or anything, I told both that if they had any problems with her (not that there really will be) that they are to call me so this way I can do whatever I can to try to fix/remedy the problem. I swear the principal was going to hug me right then and there *lol* she remarked that's what she likes to hear coming from a parent.
Anywhoo.... with the graduation ceremony on the 27th, I have to get my act together and start sewing Kat's dress (I'm also making one for Sharon too, just because I'm in a creative mood, it's only fair since Kat's getting a dress she should get one and I'm evenmaking Willy a pair of pants too) since the patterns have been cut out and just waiting to be put together. Even though they each deserve something a little different, I try to treat each of them equally (as much as I can).
Oh well.... kettle's boiling, time for a cuppa.
This is a really funny story and no it didnt happen to me *lol* The mental picture is hilarious! ENJOY!
CAUTION: Be prepared to laugh out loud...I laughed till I almost cried as I could just see this happening! All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, and play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours:
"Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.
It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!)
I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the one strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my *hoo-hoo* and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums???
Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch.I am touching wax.
CRAP! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
DANG!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. *Hoo-Hoo*?? sealed shut! Butt?? Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!" What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!!
I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? WRONG!!!!!!!
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!
God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter - "So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!" There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or who-ha?"
She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counselling for this event. My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace.... the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care. IT WORKS!! It works!!
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....
THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair colour......
Now that’s funny . Notttttttttt
Pay no attention to me, I've just been claiming my GJ, LJ and here at Technorati
I was randomly surfing around when I happened to come across Technorati when I noticed that my lj and posts had been listed. So I decided to take a peek around. Apparently, this site allows you to "claim" blogs, so I did just that added a few of my online journals.
I keep forgetting this place. *shakes head* Must remember to do that a little later on.
*looks at time* it's almost time for the girls to get home from school.
