Hester Velmans CONFESSIONS OF A CLONE In the debate about the wisdom of cloning a beloved dog, as Barbara Streisand recently did, one assumption is that at some point, when the technology has been refined, rich people who can afford it will want to clone themselves, out of a narcissistic desire to see an exact reproduction of themselves. Soon we’ll have swarms of little Bill Gateses, mini-Kardashians, Trumps or Zuckerbergs throwing their combined weight around. Perish the thought! Speaking as a clone myself, I think that prospect is highly unlikely. I have lived with the same genetic makeup as my identical-twin sister all my life, and though I highly recommend twinship as a guarantee against loneliness (a built-in lifelong friend is a great gift, and I don’t knock it!), I doubt even the most eccentric billionaire would truly be happy being cloned. Of course the attention my sister and I received was very gratifying when were little. “Oh, look, how cute, twins!” strangers would coo at us in our adorable identical outfits. We were hooked on dressing alike and would burst into tears if by mistake one of us was wearing white socks and the other pink…