How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Obamacare

There are two schools of thought regarding the Health Care “Reform” shenanigans our congressmen churned out last Christmas eve. (Note: The last time the Senate held a roll call on Christmas Eve was 1895. Draw your own conclusions from that factoid.) One side thinks it will bring puppies and rainbows, costs will go down, quality will go up, and leprechauns will keep us alive forever. The other side thinks that faceless Kafkaesque bureaucrats will torment us with form twenty seven B stroke six while shipping granny to the Soylent Green factory. I lean toward the latter but I don’t really know what the future holds. The only thing I can know for certain is that my opinion will have no influence whatsoever. I just called Nancy Pelosi; she insisted that I don’t matter. So that’s that. By the way, your opinion doesn’t matter either.

But have no fear! Every law has unintended consequences and in those I see chances to adapt. Remember, I didn’t cause the change, I’m merely cogitating on how some of us will adapt to the steaming hot pile of “reform” they left on my doorstep.

What could show a way past a congress bent on dominating another 1/6th of the economy? The most powerful force on earth; boobs! Yep, breast augmentation surgery is my explanation as to why Obamacare wont completely suck.

Breast augmentation is pretty much covered by no insurance. Therefore, according to certain ways of thinking, it shouldn’t exist. Yet I checked and apparently the procedure is widely available and displayed proudly on some of my favorite internet venues. There you have it, a medical procedure that is almost never covered by insurance yet it is legally, safely, and widely available. Where insurance fears to tread a competitive market exists.

Contrast that with the insurance based medical care available to your average working stiff. Non-emergency care, for me, starts by calling a dozen doctors looking for one who is “taking new patients”, dialing three for English, being put on hold for a hour, and eventually a six week wait for my appointment. Once the golden day arrives I’m asked for my insurance information and if I say something silly and archaic like “I can pay cash” I run the risk of being tossed out the door and never rescheduled again. Nor will I get reliable price information. Suppose a doctor says I need a procedure (it’s a thought experiment so enjoy yourself by imagining something cool like a titanium skull replacement). He never knows what it will cost. Even though I have insurance I always ask about prices because I’m just that kind of troublemaker. Invariably I get vague non answers which can’t be written down using numerals. This infuriates me! If you can’t write down actual digits then it’s not a price. If it’s not a price, it’s a fable, a fairy tale, a load of conjecture with a covering of assumption-sauce.

I’m forced into this “unpriced” system because I can’t afford to go to a private hospital like my pal Bill Gates and I’m insured well enough that I don’t have to take my chances with the ER like many folks on the lower rungs of the economic ladder. Lacking price information, I do what everyone else does and hope for the best. Six weeks after a Doctor’s appointment I’ll get a confusing printout that says “The procedure cost eleventy gazillion dollars but insurance covers 63.876% of it on alternate weekends provided it was done by a network of specific doctors in specific offices, the moon is in the seventh house, and you ask us pretty please to not kidnap your dog. You still owe $237.56. P.S. We hate you. Signed: The insurance company.” In short, the fundamentals of a market don’t exist for me and they don’t exist for my doctor. And unless you’re very rich or somewhat poor, they don’t exist for you.

If there were a functioning market, would I get cheaper care? Maybe. Would I get better care? I think so. I base this supposition on the care I get from markets which are thriving right now. Obviously I’m not in the market for a breast implant but I do partake of opticians and dentists. They’re not covered by many insurance plans and therefore markets exist. Depending on my finances and my inclination I can buy ugly glasses, trendy expensive overly cool glasses, contacts, or go nuts for LASIK. I can perpetually repair old glasses or annually buy new ones. I can pay to have my teeth cleaned often or never and if I neglect them until I get a cavity it’s nobody’s issue but mine. I always know precisely what a procedure costs, I have a range of providers, there’s always room for an appointment, and “glasses in an hour” is not a punchline. My experience is that people who get my cash always treat me more humanely than folks who’ve got my insurance card.

But what about “regular” medicine. Does a market exist? Of course! Rich Americans get medical care by buying it. Millionaires don’t sit around reading six year old magazines in the same waiting room as me to go to the same doctor as me. Thus, there is a market for rich guys like John Kerry and Dick Cheney but it’s out of my league.

What I’m hoping for is enough competition to lower the cost until it’s approachable by a loser like me. What would do that? How about knocking the snot out of the current system the vast majority of us use? As soon as you tax “Cadillac insurance plans” you’ve made a strong incentive for everyone to stick with bare bones insurance. As soon as the bare bones system is run by the people that brought us the TSA, the post office, and the Department of Motor Vehicles quality will become craptacular. Horror stories like what’s occasionally attached to underfunded VA hospitals and inner city ER rooms do not originate in high end private hospitals. Did I mention that congress will try to push payments to care providers lower and lower? Some (but not all) of the current “got some money but not rich” consumers (folks like me who will pay for something better than Dr. Nick) are going to be looking for something better. A demand that may create a real market.

I’m not happy that we may see the medical system get hammered. Nor am I happy that we will all pay for it. (Obamacare will spare no taxpayer.) But all will not be lost if a small parallel cash market in medical care for non-rich people develops as a result. Some of us will voluntarily pay a second time in cash for anything better than Obamacare. Paying twice hurts but then again I never promised free and perfect. (I’m not running for election or a deluded politician.) If the table is set for a wide range of medical service at prices that I expect from optometrists, dentists, and Hollywood plastic surgeons there is a silver lining. It’s not perfect but that’s life.

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iPod and the Curmudgeon

Like many homeowners, I was shocked when ninjas slipped into my house by cover of darkness and deposited an iPod in my kid’s room. I don’t like Apple products so ninjas are the only possible explanation. My wife, who is surely innocent in all this, agrees. It was iNinjas. They have attacked before with an iMac and an earlier version iPod. All I know is that if Steve Jobs tries to sell anything more in my vicinity he’s going to get his iButt iKicked. I am a Curmudgeon after all.

I tried mightily to load my kid’s iDevice with a few of my favorite CDs (can you believe it…there was a time when you purchased physical media for your money…I’m so out of date). Alas, Curmudgeons are not good iConsumers. My computer resembles a garage sale and runs Ubuntu on whatever parts still function. As far as I can determine, iTunes was designed solely to extract my credit card information and then fail to upload songs. I’d been iDefeated. (Full disclosure: I’ve recently purchased a new laptop and it came with Windows. I haven’t yet switched the OS and I’m already considering finding Bill Gates and WinKicking his WinButt.)

My wife, with iNinja assistance I’m sure, got iTunes working in an undisclosed location. She started feeding our kid a diet of music and audiobooks. I offered helpful hints; songs that are appropriate to explain to a young boy the important things in life. At my suggestion my son now knows the words to Godzilla (by Blue Oyster Cult), We Will Rock You / We Are The Champions (by Queen), The Immigrant Song (by Led Zeppelin), and Boy Named Sue (by Johnny Cash). I’m pleased that he’s learning lessons about stomping Tokyo, stomping the floor, Vikings stomping everybody, and a heartwarming tale of overcoming a difficult childhood through a gun/knife fight with your father that causes an epiphany and rejection of his actions. I’m glad to see music lighting the way to proper morals.

My wife kindly served as the intermediary between iMarketers and my suggestions. I lacked earphones so assumed all was well in my kid’s musical selections. Then one day I discovered that Huey Lewis and the News had seeped into my son’s iPod! Timid pop amid stomped Tokyo trains? Mixed with ferocious guitar solos and Robert Plant’s screaming? In a gunfight Johnny Cash would have drawn first and been rotting in Folsom Prison before Huey knew what hit him! What had transpired?

So now I’m going to monitor the iPod more carefully. I’m going to start by trying once again to iShove my old Jimi Hendrix CD’s (which never leave the car’s radio) into his iPod; possibly using a sledge hammer. He already knows the words to Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)….but another several thousand replays couldn’t hurt.

After all, he’s growing up in a world with threats like frozen yogurt and people who can’t drive a car with a clutch. He needs all the musical inspiration I can give him.

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Pinheads With Billboards

On any given day I’m not likely to get an abortion. This is hardly an earth shattering revelation since I am male and lack certain attributes that go with that activity. (If you don’t understand, I’ll have the gym teacher explain it to you after class.) Nor do I indulge in pointless self destructive behaviors. For example; I make it though each and every day without domestic violence, excessive gambling, driving while drunk, or doing meth. Apparently I’m a paragon of virtue. Where’s my Nobel prize?

I’m not unique. The vast majority of us can get through the day without imploding and the rest wind up either in a gutter or in Congress. Yet various hand wringers think I perpetually need to be saved from myself. How do I know this? Because these misinformed pinheads keep putting up billboards which bark orders at me from the roadside.

It happens every time I take a road trip. I should be able to roll out on the highway and cruise happily. Instead self righteous simpletons and their moralistic graffiti harsh my mellow. I’ll be informed that abortion stops a beating heart, gambling ruins lives, beating a child is wrong, and meth will mess me up. Recently I was informed (with government money) that going in a boat without a life vest means I’m sure to drown. Also I should walk somewhere. The latter must be because I’m an gluttonous whale who can barely lever my carcass off the couch and I wouldn’t figure out what to do with my feet if the government didn’t tell me to walk? My tax dollars at work.

In theory the intrusive morons with their preachy billboards think they’re doing good. In reality, they aren’t. And they know it. Nobody is dumb enough to believe I’m driving down the road thinking: “I’m bored. I think I’ll pull over, do some meth, beat my child, start a forest fire, and then drown myself”. It takes a vivid imagination to picture a sudden change of mind. “Whoops! It says on the big plywood sign that meth is yucky, it’s bad to beat the innocent, forests are pretty, and life vests float. Who knew? Guess I’ll just continue being a productive member of society.”

Social engineering billboards merely expend money to intrude on my life in the name of somebody’s favorite cause. They can quack all day about “doing good” but really they’re just inflating their ego at my expense. Doing it at my expense is the unforgivable part. I’m all for inflated egos (because I’m totally awesome) but a couple hundred miles of getting a stern talking to by every non-profit that knows how to shakedown a grant proposal and I’m sick of the world. Thanks guys…care to kick my dog and audit my taxes to make my day complete?

Of course this is going to continue. It takes maturity and wisdom to refrain from bossing other people around, especially when you can do it with someone else’s money. But that doesn’t make them any better. My only hope is that blockheads designing the next billboard to “encourage” the great unwashed masses to agree with their particular way of living go boating without a life vest first. From what I’ve heard that’s instantly fatal.

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Vlad The Impaler, We Need You

Everyone (but me) has been reading vampire books. The craze apparently swept the nation while my attention was elsewhere. (I never know what’s popular. I was probably fretting over my tractor’s valve train.)

I’m all for stories about undead bloodsucking monsters. Go team evil! I was delighted (if surprised) with the unexpected popularity of an old Victorian story with an awesome villain and a weird implied Romanian back story. Something to strike a blow against this summer’s oversold story about Blue Alien Indigenous Treehuggers who symbolically defeat Space Marines and Halliburton? Maybe Bram Stoker wound up on Oprah’s Book of the Month?

My wife, who is more aware of popular culture than I, explained things. For the six other guys (and they are definitely guys) who don’t know the scoop; here is all you need to know. Stephene Meyer took the vampire story and ran with it to the tune of several books and some movies (and for all I know themed lunchboxes and a game show). In my eyes the whole things sounds suspiciously like the fruit of focus groups but that’s just the sort of thing a Curmudgeon would say. The whole thing started in the young adult book market like Harry Potter and I’m the last person on the continent who hasn’t either read the books, watched the movie, or otherwise paid attention. Inexplicably this set of vampire stories include Werewolves? I’m not ruling out Smurfs either. Maybe I missed other details; so be it.

One day my kid’s Happy Meal came with a wristband sporting what appeared to be an anemic blue jean clad mall-dwelling high-schooler. This guy. This boy. This, shallow pathetic watered down echo of James Dean without the motorcycle? Could he be a vampire? My wife patiently explained that the character was not only a vampire but a “vegetarian” one. I was incredulous; “But he looks like one of the Backstreet Boys and… DID YOU SAY VEGETARIAN!?!”

This last part cannot stand! I realize that it’s all harmless frivolity and one probably needs two X chromosomes to “get it” but vampires must not be portrayed as wimps. Vampires can and should be merciless, predatory, and at any moment seriously considering and capable of killing everyone in the room. Vampires living on woodland creatures is pathetic. If I can kill a deer and eat it that doesn’t make me a dark lord now does it? Any vampire less dangerous than a blogging deer hunter is bad for society, a blight on humanity, and yet another way to turn a really excellent villain into a Pokemon character. I blame Anne Rice for this.

Vampires are bad news. They need to be nasty, cunning, nearly unstoppable, and unspeakably malicious, monsters. Otherwise they’re just losers without a day job. Any teenage waif mooning around a vampire should wind up double plus dead and hopefully mentally tortured on the way out. (Renfield wound up eating spiders in an insane asylum. Now that’s a vampires’ handiwork!) Anything less is just lazy. A teenage airhead escaped from the text of Romeo and Juliet skipping around in your malicious orbit is too uncool for a top flight villain. Vlad the Impaler would have tossed her from the parapet in less time than I take to scan the phone bill. Nosferatu was harsh to the core long before CGI. Even Bram Stoker’s Dracula took out an entire boatload of sailors just to get to Britain. Mass transit baby! Vampires kill off a handful of innocent peasants to warm up for an unhinged evening of concentrated evil and we love them for it. Maybe they’ll even put some heads on spikes to remind the terrorized countryside that the crazy guy in the old castle on the hill is not interested in talking to the homeowners association. Anything good and holy in the vicinity of a hardworking evil vampire is going to get seriously messed up. And the best part is that you know it’s coming. When Bela Lugosi unleashes his cool accent you know his victim is up against something legendary. Vampires don’t “feel your pain”….they cause it. This is important. Vampires = bad. No exceptions. Vegetarian vampires are a sign of the downfall of society.

You may now pursue more intelligent fare. Thanks for listening.

Posted in Wussification and other modern hazards. | Leave a comment

Shirley Sherrod is David Howard

In 1999 there was a kerfuffle about nothing. David Howard, an aide to the mayor of Washington DC was discussing the budget. His intention was to say that times were tight and he’d have to be very careful with the budget this year. There was nothing unusual in the content of his remarks (aside from the novel idea of fiscal responsibility in Washington) but he had the terrible misfortune to posses a large vocabulary. Howard said he’d have to be “niggardly” with the budget. “Niggardly”, for those of you who’ve fallen behind on your Reader’s Digest Word Power studies, is an adjective derived from the Old Norse verb nigla (“to fuss about small matters”) meaning “miserly or stingy”. The word “nigger” is derived from Spanish/Portuguese and has nothing to do with the concept of “stingy”. (Look it up if you don’t believe me.)

Of course everyone got the vapors about a word that sounds similar to verboten language. Ten days after the mistake of doing nothing wrong, Howard was fired. Did I mention that Howard, tragically, was white (and gay), or that his boss, the mayor of Washington DC (as is required by either law or tradition…I forget) was black. Eventually someone picked up a dictionary. Soon he was rehired and we all had a laugh at our collective stupidity and learned to live together as a nation of reasonable people. Just kidding.  He more or less got his job back but we’re still morons and I’m sure Howard wouldn’t play scrabble alone in a locked room.

Eleven years after Mr. Howard’s career went through a wood chipper because one word sounded like another, Shirley Sherrod was pounded for doing the right thing but saying it in a way that exceeds the toddler level sensibilities of those around her. Mrs. Sherrod, a black bureaucrat, told a Hallmark style redemption story of overcoming her racial animosity toward a white farmer 24 years earlier. Thirty-eight seconds of video from her speech took the story out of context and made her look like a racist jerk. This was pitched into the public maw by a pundit I don’t listen to and amplified by a “news” outlet I ignore. In short order Mrs. Sherrod was hurriedly submitting a resignation which was requested (depending on who you ask) by either President Obama’s direct order or one of his flunkies who knew which way the wind was blowing. A decision, like the canning of Mr. Howard, which was ill advised and shortly reversed. For my own amusement I like to imagine the first person to listen to the rest of Mrs. Sherrod’s speech and realize she wasn’t the anti-Christ also has a dictionary and knows how to use it.

So what have we learned? Nothing I’m sure. However, I’d desperately like to meet Mr. Howard and Mrs. Sherrod and buy them both dinner at a nice restaurant. I’d happily pay the bill just to hear what they have to say about the matter. Which, if either of them have learned anything from the pants shitting weenies that nearly ruined them both, is nothing.

Posted in The Shafted | 2 Comments

When something can’t go on forever…it won’t.

Unless you live under a rock you know the economy has changed recently.  The question is; when did you know it was going to happen?  The press likes to pretend that the economy suddenly tanked without warning but I disagree.  The writing was on the wall years in advance.  Like anyone else, I clung to the idea that maybe I was misreading things and a booming economy based on free credit and magic unicorns would last forever.  Yet small deductions and minor observations piled up incrementally until I couldn’t help but get the point.

In any process of gradual learning there’s the moment when you give up all doubt and just know.  For me, that moment was a minor observation.  I was living in a large city which, as far as I could ascertain, was constructed entirely out of debt.  With a certain amount of self deception you could ignore this.  But one day the pizza delivery guy arrived in a brand new Cadillac Escalade.  While chatting with him I determined that he had indeed “purchased” (i.e. financed) it specifically for his job, he was entirely supporting himself with a part time job delivering pizzas, and he thought his new glittering White Elephant was a wise “investment”.  Nor was he a young fellow…he was in his mid twenties and more mature than the pimply faced high school student I usually associate with pizza delivery and fiscal cluelessness.

When the guy who brings your pizza is driving a brand new Escalade…something is terribly wrong.  That was all you needed to know about the economy in early 2005.

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Hello world!

This is a test.  This is only a test.  If this was an actual post it would have content.  As for insight; I’ll leave that determination in the hands of the reader.

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