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While we recently spent a session pondering some existential issues in the manner in which we've become accustomed, i.e., perched on the Porcelain Throne of Concentration while flipping through an issue of Entertainment Weekly, we were heartened to discover a fellow searcher in the most unlikely of places—a preview of summer blockbuster-hopeful The Island. We were as surprised as anyone to see fauxteur fashion plate Michael Bay pondering the big questions raised by his "philosophical" film:

"I want people to think, 'If you could, would you have a clone?'"

Why must Bay torture himself like this, butting his pretty brow against a philosophical dilemma already adequately addressed by Multiplicity? That movie clearly established that having a army of clones to handle the mundane tasks of life to free one up for more hedonistic pursuits is, at its core, an empty exercise in narcissism and self-negation. It is precisely our enduring of life's persistent drudgery while seeking its infrequent episodes of elation that makes us human. We feel confident that if Bay were to set a phalanx of clones to the busy work of executing unnecessary camera angles, cerebellum-jarring quick-cuts, and the monotonous blowing-up-of-shit so that he could devote more time to aimlessly cruising around town in a Ferrari, he'd quickly find himself losing his essential humanity. So, no, Mr. Bay, we would not like to have a clone, and nor should you. Unless, of course, he turned out to be a great wingman that helped us get crazy laid and developed a reliable connection for some quality blow. In that case, sign us up for that shit.