Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Can I Have 'Hint of Heinie'?

Give Me Your Poor, Tired, Sick Morons, Yearning To Breathe Free

People are worked up and angry about President Barack Obama's attempts to get Congress -- note, Congress, not he himself -- to reform America's corrupt and venal health care "system."

They are angry in the oddest of ways... Just ponder these lines, lifted from the New York Times' account of Senator Arlen Specter of Pennsylvania, and the response at a townhall meeting where he tried to explain the issues, the proposals and the possible outcomes. Sounds reasonable?

“This is about the dismantling of this country,” Katy Abram, 35, shouted at
Mr. Specter, drawing one of the most prolonged rounds of applause. “We don’t
want this country to turn into Russia.”

“We believe there are several issues out there that leave the existence of
the Republic at risk,” said another, “not the least of which is this

Mr. Miller, shaking, said: “One day, God is going to stand before you, and
he’s going to judge you!”

“This isn’t just about health care,” said Carolyn Doric of Harrisburg, “it’s about political power and a means to regain political power.”

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. Or for being stupider than I thought possible. And do you think, that if government-subsidized health clinics opened in their neighborhoods offering decent health care, and for a fraction of the cost of the current system, do you think they'd keep right on using their freedom to pay top dollar for insurance?

The Times gets to the real issue in another section, with this line:

"Many also expressed broad if unspecified disdain for the government and for President Obama."

Need I state the obvious? They're white, racist, redneck hicks to a man. Somebody prove me wrong.

Monday, August 10, 2009

I Want A Horse

This crummy year delivers yet another unwanted parcel of bad news; here goes: a friend, a dear friend has serious, really bad, much-worse-than-expected cancer.

I thought of 2009 as a great winnowing, the only constant, Time, slowly, gravely, shaking the fabric of the world like a rug, shaking, shaking. And I want to run from the winnowing and jump on a great whinneying steed and ride away from the Sick Heart...

Oh rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.