Another Loudmouth In The Way Of Healthcare Reform

The Loudmouth-in-Question is Rep. Joe Wilson (R [Duh]/S.C.), who called the President a “liar” during one of Obama’s increasingly-opposed pleas for lawmaker’s to step up to the plate–that plate being the public trough all these pigs gorge at as they go about their charmed lives with full medical coverage and enough perks to make a fat African dictator blush–and do the right thing about a national healthcare plan.

Being the bleedingheart liberal commie sympathizer/socialist I’m often accused of being, I support the President’s efforts. In fact, I don’t think any incarnation of a national healthcare plan will ever be good enough, even if “The Plan” was secretly authored by Barnie Franks’s gay lover, who turns out to be a Closet Canadian Commie with Evil Plans to take over the world by destroying Blue Cross/Blue Shield with the nuclear weapons Bush couldn’t find in Iraq and a trailer-truck full of band-aid-camoflauged Kalishnakovs.

MY Secret Plan is simple: I talk to convenience store workers, and leave some change in the buckets you see in many of these stores to solicit help for some unlucky worker who has some horrible disease and zero healthcare. Isn’t it sad that the placement of these change jars had to be okayed by convenience store management…? Which means, of course, that they are the REAL “company-provided employee healthcare plan.” In other words:

“If you get sick and can’t cover your third-shift schedule selling gas and beef jerky to drunks, Don’t Worry! Be Happy! We’ll stick a bucket with your pathetic face on it in all our stores where customers will (hopefully!) donate enough pennies and nickels to pay for the chemo we’re too cheap to provide! Get Well Soon! (Or You’re Fired!)”

My own Plan calls for a couple minutes two or three times a day, whenever I have a need to swing by one of the eighty-two thousand convenience stores that are within 4 yards of my house. I look for one of these pity jars (which are, sadly, all too common). I drop whatever change I have on me into the jar, and ask about the person whose scared face is taped on the side. Don’t worry, all the employees know the story. After all, this is what passes for their “healthcare plan”. They’ll tell you a familiar story that is repeated with all-too-numbing regularity across this nation.

MAPCO is the local Big Corporation, owning many of the convenience stores in north Alabama, northwest Georgia and southern Tennessee. I don’t know where they are headquartered at–probably the Death Star. No doubt the corporate elite (all the atormtroopers running the Death Star) have a decent healthcare plan. But their average, blue-collar “working poor” employee?

Well…yes! Yes, Mr. Commie Sympathizer Big Mouth! We DO offer our VALUED EMPLOYEES healthcare coverage!”

“Uh-huh. What kind?”

“Well…uhm….err…uhhh……….(supplementalhealthinsurance)”

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

“supplemental [mumble] [inaudible mutter]…”

“OH YOU MEAN SUPPLEMENTAL INSURANCE?!” In other words, if you PAY FOR YOUR OWN insurance, out of the no-doubt VERY fair salary you are paid, and that insurance pays for 80% of your need–AFTER the deductible is met, which often means a tearful trip to a cash-for-title franchise or a pawn shop–then your generous employer’s supplemental plan (at God know’s what price) will kick in to help with the 20% that remains.

In plain, unvarnished English: you’re gonna pay, one way or another…and they’re gonna getcha in the end no matter who licks the stamp.

After I commiserate with the employee–who’s  now reminded how much s/he hates the cheap-ass employer and, more importantly, WHY–I meekly suggest that MAYBE the Nazis we elected to look out for us in D.C. aren’t doing such a good job.

“They’re liars,” I say, before heading out the door, leaving them to stew.

Just like Rep. Wilson. 

 

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