With recent research on the human genetic code bearing fruit lately, it would seem to me that things are bound to be changing in our society - especially for the worse.

My genetic code can now be unwound with the ease of the string on a child's yo yo, open for inspection by my doctor and, inevitably, my insurance company.

But since I, like every American, am already stuck with HMO coverage with limited providership and unreasonable premiums, perhaps I won't notice the difference.

However, I am quite positive my innate flaws will be to my detriment. My insurers will notice, for instance, that my twisted toes are really not due to that case of "toe-lio" I contracted as a child, as I listed on their little form. (When they called me, they asked if I meant polio. I had to tell them that there was a serious outbreak of toe-lio before my homeland of Atlantis sunk in 1978 after being loaded down with cute six-year-old Cuban refugees who were not granted asylum in the United States because they needed to return to concentration camps in their homeland to assist the state with slave labor. Soon after that, the woman at the company, who obviously had heard my story before, said, "Thank you, sir, and have a nice day. Your bill is in the mail").

Then again, they couldn't give me too much flak without my genetic makeup. I could sue the company for toe discrimination and win a victory for feet all over the nation. Soles everywhere would stomp my praises. If that were the case, I might find myself insuring my toes through Lloyds of London, like some movie stars insured their famous body parts. I can see it now, my gnarled toes on the walk of fame.

I am sure that somewhere down the line I was passed the inherently wicked twisted-toe gene. I understand that us twisted-toe folks are seven times more likely to get bunions, foot cramps and heelititus, a serious human hoof disease for you laymen out there. I am a veritable medical dictionary, you know. I may send this very article to the New England Journal of Medicine or some equally prestigious publication, possibly sparking a move to earmark several million in tax dollars to be spent to determine if heelititus is a real threat to Americans abroad.

They might even issue a travel alert about going anywhere near the sunken island of Atlantis or any of its cute little Cuban refugees, who are no doubt living in abject poverty with toe-lio and heelititus on collective farms on that beautiful Cuban never-never land, chanting, "Hail Castro" right now. But at least they have good insurance. As for my toes, they could possibly lead to a rise in my insurance premiums for any falls that I have in the future, because twisted toes could lead to off-kilter balance in some extreme cases. That, in turn, could lead to certain serious and damaging, I mean expensive, falls and accidents.

Therefore, the deductible for any such injury must certainly be my problem entirely. After all, the insurance company didn't give me my faulty genes - it was my parents.

Therefore, should I fall from my inherent problem with the twisted toes, my insurers will promptly suggest that I sue my parents, who have no recourse but to sue their deceased ancestors, who in turn could keep the whole thing tied up in some sort of post-probate purgatory for decades.

I wonder if my doctor will accept an I.O.U. from a deceased ancestor?

All this negative health information is quite contradictory to the little acceptance form I filled out for the new insurance company, which I will not name for fear of being hunted down like the disease-infested dog I am, which listed my health as "fit as a fiddle." I checked "no" to everything with conviction, including those little lines about diseases I had never heard of. Thank goodness they didn't ask to see my toes. Of course, this is coming from the same fellow who wrote "not until I'm remarried and even then I'll use a condom" in the block under sex and "I don't smoke, drink alcoholic beverages, eat fatty foods or have any fun whatsoever. Also, I exercise twice a day and take vitamins" under that section about risky health behavior. I was afraid to tell them I donate blood, for they might find me lacking in the blood department and raise my rates, stamping my form as "blood deficient." After all, they couldn't take as much money from me before they bleed me dry if I already am a pint or so low.

However, I got some relief yesterday in the form of North Carolina law. After doing a bit of research, I discovered that my genetic secrets are mine to keep. This state has some kind of law on file to protect me from genetic discrimination. There is also a federal law that only protects those with group insurance, usually in companies with 50 or more workers. That leaves me out. Not that it matters to any insurance company, the same bunch who discriminate against drivers for their past performance every day. What is the difference? Some might say the genes are not my fault but my driving record is. But what about that time the deer jumped out and smashed the window or I swerved to miss the other car and the shoulder of the road gave way? Those weren't my fault either. Not exactly. I think I will tell my automobile insurance that they are the fault of the bad driving gene, which I acquired through no fault of my own. They should have known sooner and they could have collected higher horse and buggy premiums from my great grandfather, who passed away some time back. However, if they are interested, I still have the 43 cents he left me in his will.

No matter what the law says, I would feel safer to control my own gene map. Perhaps I could put my genetic records somewhere safe from prying eyes. How about the Los Alamos National Laboratory? Why, I would already be dead and gone by the year 2080 when my genetic records are located behind an ancient copier somewhere in the "secure area." My friendly HMO could then back-bill my estate with higher insurance premiums. So what if my sons and daughters have to give up their share of the family's 43 cent standard inheritance - after the government gets its third, of course.

I need to think twice about Los Alamos, though, because I have the Chinese food gene, as well. It makes me crave Chinese food uncontrollably at times. All those Chinese government operatives might take my genes and infect the entire Earth, effectively taking over the world economy. After all, they already have all of our nuclear secrets, I don't see why they couldn't get our genetic make-ups, too. The Chinese are pretty saavy - they don't need brilliant scientists, they can get U.S. secrets like I get Chinese takeout. Speaking of which, I have to go now. I need some of that kung fu chicken.

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