Jealousy, Spinoza writes, is that which is driven by scarcity. When what I covet and desire loves another, my own happiness suffers: that is the logic of jealousy.

When I survey the possible faces to clone, and the multitude of gestures and personalities they carry, I consider quantity, I consider body type, I consider filmography.

But when I googled “Taylor Swift AND hot,” I unexpectedly found her wearing a dangling T on her thigh—the chain slipped under her Chiefs Red dress—and I wanted that for myself.

Of course, I am no tight-end. A head shorter than her, more ape than a work by Michelangelo, I am more likely to elicit revulsion than inspire devotion. So, I plan to clone two younger beauties, similar in height and who possess uncommon symmetry, to create a situation Taylor may like, one where she is the matriarch: Barbara Palvin and Elle Fanning.

I hope the triad brings about a fruitful relationship so that I do not get asked the pointed barb: “Did I solicit thee my maker, to make me of clay?”