By Tim Sanders

This is going to be one of those stream of consciousness columns. Sort of. From what I understand about stream of consciousness, it is a mode of narrative which describes the wacky thought processes of people who have recently ingested some sort of hallucinogen and believe that they are either a) profound, or b) about to die. My two favorite stream of consciousness writers were William Faulkner and Dr. Seuss. So, since I don’t do Faulkner, here we go with a Seussism:

Tim I am, I have two legs.
I hang my pants on wooden pegs.
I hang my pants on wooden pegs.
I do not like green ham and eggs.
I do not like it in the South.
I do not like it in my mouth.
Green pork ribs I would not eat.
Nor green bacon, nor green pig’s feet.
Green Boston butt, pork loin, or Spam,
I would not eat, nor green smoked ham.
I do not like it small or big.
I would not eat a chartreuse pig.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, "His stream of consciousness is barely a trickle; probably due to serious prostate problems." Well, I’ll have you know that my prostate is as sound as a dollar, give or take a few dimes. That poem reflects my deep inner thoughts about a recent AP news article I ran across on the Los Angeles Times web site:

TAIPEI, Taiwan–Pigs may not fly just yet, but at least three of them glow.

Taiwanese researchers said Friday that they bred the pigs with a fluorescent material to help the island’s stem cell research effort.

The fluorescent pigs are green from the inside out, including their hearts and internal organs, said Wu Shinn-Chih, assistant professor of animal science at National Taiwan University.

From the outside, the pigs appear to be bathed in a light green tint, particularly their eyes, mouths, and knuckles. Wu said the pigs’ embryos were injected with fluorescent green protein taken from jellyfish.

Pigs are commonly used to study human diseases, and Wu contends his technique could help researchers monitor tissue changes. He said fluorescent cells would show up during stem cell treatment of diseased organs, allowing physicians to monitor the healing process ...

... Last year, another team of Taiwanese researchers said they developed an alternative to laboratory mice for testing new medications–fluorescent fish ...

There is more to the article, but for our purposes, that will suffice. I am glad that in Taiwan at least, science is pursuing something worthwhile. And I don’t mean the fluorescent fish, either. Everybody has fluorescent fish, and though they may be attractive, they are of no practical value. Fish seldom get out of their tank and wander off to hide in a dark closet somewhere, so they don’t really need to fluoresce. Hogs, on the other hand, are a different story. We may not find fluorescent green swine appetizing, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t have their advantages.

After all, who among us hasn’t let his pig out into the back yard one last time before going to bed, only to wait and wait for him to come to the door and snort to get in? And after you’ve finally taken the flashlight and ventured outside on that dark, moonless night in search of old Buster, how many times have you wandered the yard for what seems an eternity, unable to locate your hog? Is he simply playing with you, hiding behind an oak or a pine, digging for truffles, or has he climbed the fence to visit the neighbor’s sow and make piglets? And who hasn’t headed for the bathroom in the early morning darkness, half asleep, and stumbled over that 400 lb. Chester White lying on the rug beside the bed? At times like these you would welcome an iridescent hog. If he were glowing like a neon sign, you wouldn’t stub your toe on him in the dark, and could locate him outside immediately, hook the leash to his collar and lead him back into the house.

I suppose I could mention the obvious benefits glowing leader hogs for the blind would afford society, but I won’t. I’m sure you’ve already thought of that.

Instead, the glowing hog thoughts in my trickling stream of consciousness remind me of the pianist in the church my dad pastored when I was a kid. Clayton was a free spirit–an innovator. He was way ahead of his time, since in the mid-1950s he was already going to hair salons rather than barber shops, and usually wore just a touch of rouge. In those innocent times, Dad simply said he was "unique." At any rate, every Sunday morning just before the worship service, Clayton played a processional melody. One Sunday morning as we headed to our seats in the auditorium, Clayton was "moved by the spirit" to launch into a lively, syncopated rendition of that grand old hymn of the faith,"Glow Little Glow-Worm."

Glow little glow-worm, fly of fire,
Glow like an incandescent wire,
Glow for the female of the species,
Turn on the AC and the DC;
This night could use a little brightnin’,
Light up, you li’l ol’ bug of lightnin’,
When you gotta glow, you gotta glow,
Glow little glow worm, glow.

Glow little glow-worm, glow and glim–

It was memorable. Even the most somber member of Middleville’s First Baptist Church seemed to have a jauntier spring in his step. It only lasted for one verse, after which Dad stepped–actually sprang–to the piano and whispered something to Clayton, who abruptly switched keys mid-glimmer, dropped the tempo, and proceeded with "On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand."

Now, if the Taiwanese should ever come up with a fluorescent green rooster who could peck out an entire medley of Mills Brothers hits on the piano, and then market him to the Methodists ... oh, never mind.