birthmark treatment dc

There's a lengthy tradition, dating back long before Mary Shelley's Frankenstein to mythological precedents like the story of Prometheus, that depicts the search for knowledge as forbidden, dangerous, and leading disastrous consequences. In this narrative, knowledge leads to the temptation to "play God," interfere with "nature," thwart fate to determine who lives and dies. Or as Victor Frankenstein himself puts it in Shelley's novel: "Learn … by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how much happier that man who believes his native town to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow." In modern cinema especially, the Frankenstein myth has fueled the recurring depiction of "mad scientist" characters whose pursuit of knowledge tempts them to pursue forbidden powers as well—a desire that ultimately leads to their downfall (after taking lots of innocent victims along with them). Traveling back further in time, we can detect the same mythology in early twentieth century novels like The Island of Dr. Moreau and Brave New World . So while the Frankenstein myth never dies, it also doesn't really fit reality today: Far and away most scientists save lives, rather than dooming them. And there are very, very few kinds of knowledge that we actually ought to regard as forbidden. He had access to forbidden knowledge (anthrax spores and how to use them), and a sly, horrible plan to apply that knowledge to its worst possible end. Leon Kass, the conservative first chair of President Bush's President's Council on Bioethics, the council's meetings by assigning members to read a Frankenstein -type story, Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Birthmark," whose plot (summarized by someone far ) involves "a scientist married to a stunningly beautiful woman whose only flaw is a tiny, hand-shaped birthmark on her cheek. birthmark treatment dc birthmark treatment dc