Dairy Queen's Got Our Number

This is one of the most realistic commercials I've ever seen.

I have absolutely zero doubt that the moment easy, cheap cloning becomes available to the masses, Americans will use this amazing breakthrough in science to invent copies of ourselves, which will in turn allow us to perform multiple pointless, time-sucking and health-injuring "tasks" at the same time.

The average American will have a clone who will do nothing but text and blather commands into his I Phone all day. Another will stare at his television, developing callouses on his thumbs as he jumps from one brain-dead sitcom to the next (when we learn how to clone our televisions, we'll be able to watch everything at the same time, and won't that be wonderful?)

None of our clones will ever do anything productive (after all, they are supposed to be perfect copies of ourselves, right?) They'll spend all their time slacking off at the office, muttering "so forty-two seconds ago" and playing Angry Birds while reminding themselves that it's not the one day of the week that they all shave yet.

Oh, and each and every one of our clones will have the same taste in food. How awesome will it be when one of us decides to go to Dairy Queen and we don't have to give up the Cici's, Golden Corral and KFC experiences? When we no longer have to make that agonizing choice between the Double Down Chicken "sandwich" and the All You Can Eat Endless Pizza Buffet? When we are really in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger, but man that other place has that Chocolate Wonderfall thingee and all meatloaf you can choke on.

And later, Maybe we can all get rooms on the same floor of the same hospital when we all suffer identical heart attacks (after spending years sharing the same prescriptions for medication to manage our diabetes, of course?)

Congratulations to Dairy Queen for cutting through the crap and allowing us to accept ourselves for what we really are- a nation of fat, sweaty loafers looking for the next excuse to avoid doing something worth doing, the next plate of warm garbage to shovel into our faces, and a quiet place to die. Someone had to do it; might as well be the good people at DQ.