"I'm sick of all this pseudo-scientific nonsense about genetics," he said, "and I'm even sicker of the crass commercialism and political propaganda surrounding this Mother America business."
"George, you surprise me more and more! I thought you did this for the money and publicity, to say nothing of the great honor."
"Stop kidding, Gloria! You know I was ordered to do it by the Department. All I get is an expense account from Dee Lish Baby Foods. The thing that really bothers me is the type of winner I have to pick."
"Have to pick? You have free choice, don't you?"
"Not really. The people who watch that program, from the President on down, including our Director too, expect a sweet wholesome type ... you know, curvy in the right places like a Miss America but wouldn't think of posing in a bathing suit. They want an adolescent dream girl type, the kind that goes well with a rose-covered cottage and four rosy-cheeked kids all waiting for Daddy to come home."
"But most women work in America today."
"I know but the dream remains, along with the cowboy, the daring Air Force pilot, the self-made business tycoon and all the other romantic stereotypes of the first half of the century. She makes togetherness seem right, and God knows we have so many people today we're together whether we like it or not. So that's the type I have to pick."
"Where does the joke come in?"
"If you'd play the part of the American dream girl you'd win that contest going away, like a four stage rocket booster."
"But I don't want to have a baby by remote control."