Sunday, September 20, 2020
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Soccer for Heidi
As we have moved through time, my granddaughter has become a talented athlete. She is very good at soccer.
Now that Heidi enters high school, a problem has arisen. We moved to this county because we needed the help of my oldest daughter to care for my wife. We found that the schools here do not have a soccer program. The reasons are many, having mostly to do with inertia.
Heidi's coaches have told us she has enough talent to play at the college level. Before she can get there, she must play at a higher level to develop and demonstrate her skills. Heidi will need to play on a competitive team that travels. That costs money.
Money is something we do not have much of. We manage to pay my wife's medical bills, satisfy
the mortgage, and keep food on the table. That is about as far as it goes. Heidi needs your help.
Please go to the website, http://www.gofundme.com/soccer4Heidi . Anything will help us get Heidi to the place she needs to be. With a little help, Heidi can demonstrate her skills, play college ball, and go on to coach the beautiful game, as is her dream.
Please help Heidi.
Now that Heidi enters high school, a problem has arisen. We moved to this county because we needed the help of my oldest daughter to care for my wife. We found that the schools here do not have a soccer program. The reasons are many, having mostly to do with inertia.
Heidi's coaches have told us she has enough talent to play at the college level. Before she can get there, she must play at a higher level to develop and demonstrate her skills. Heidi will need to play on a competitive team that travels. That costs money.
Money is something we do not have much of. We manage to pay my wife's medical bills, satisfy
the mortgage, and keep food on the table. That is about as far as it goes. Heidi needs your help.
Please go to the website, http://www.gofundme.com/soccer4Heidi . Anything will help us get Heidi to the place she needs to be. With a little help, Heidi can demonstrate her skills, play college ball, and go on to coach the beautiful game, as is her dream.
Please help Heidi.
Tuesday, February 09, 2016
To Continue.....
As the last post ended, I was fresh out of college and out of work with no prospects. The lead my father gave me went nowhere. In desperation, I turned to a headhunter agency. They sent me to the home office of an insurance company.
I walked in to the office for an interview. Across the table from me was a fellow from my home town! He was a few years older than I but he recognized me. I had a job! No matter I was totally unqualified. I had a job.
I walked in to the office for an interview. Across the table from me was a fellow from my home town! He was a few years older than I but he recognized me. I had a job! No matter I was totally unqualified. I had a job.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
For the Record Part 1
In 1973, I finally graduated from college. I had struggled with no sense of purpose other than to avoid becoming cannon fodder by means of being drafted.
After I had begun my college career, motivated entirely by that idea, the draft lottery came into being and I made it past that obstacle. With each year, the odds of being conscripted lessened. By that time, though, I was having a lot of fun and chose to complete my undergraduate degree at the slowest possible pace without incurring the wrath of my parents.
I graduated with a degree in Finance, Insurance, and Real Estate (FIRE). I really had no interest in any of those areas. I had always gravitated toward history and geography after realizing early in my freshman year that I was not cut out to be a mathematician. I was good at math, alright, and really aspired to become an engineer of some sort. My parents were in dire financial straits, though, and I was fortunate to attend a nearby regional university. A college of engineering just wasn't in the cards. A product of the Great Depression, my father refused to borrow money in the form of a student loan or to allow me to do so. There were no Pell Grants back then. I did get offers of one year scholarships to a few good schools. My parents were distrustful of large institutions and felt that a one year scholarship would only serve to raise my expectations to completing a full course of study that they or I could not afford. It never occurred to us that subsequent scholarships might materialize in following years. We knew nothing about higher education.
My father had been forced to retire and we were strapped. He was a good salesman and managed to get another job selling real estate. The fellow he worked for was a fireman in Dallas with a significant drinking problem. In return for taking a healthy cut of my father's sales commissions, he would call my father while in a state of drunkenness and berate him for not making him more money. The solution was, of course, for my father to strike out on his own having established a good reputation and clientele. The "fly in the ointment" was that my father was semi-literate at best, having been on his own from the age of twelve. The educational and testing requirements for a broker's license were stringent. It just was not going to happen.
The plan developed for me to get a real estate broker's license and then my father could "work" for me. The courses needed to get such a certification fell under the FIRE department in the school of business, if you will. That is how I ended up with a business degree. I should add that it worked and my father made enough money to keep his home, pay bills, and put food on the table. I worked as a fry cook while in college to help pay my own way. It was a cooperative effort.
Thus, I matriculated with a business degree. In doing so, I had learned that I was not very good when it came to traits most necessary to be successful in the business world to include avarice and greed. I came to learn that the world of finance was based on the strong taking advantage of the weak and that insurance was very often a scheme based on people being sold policies they did not need or not covering losses most probable. I may have enjoyed the real estate business, I think, had not a horrendous economic downturn happened along, devastating the housing market. I was not the salesman my father was and there just wasn't enough business to support all of us.
I opted to go into banking, or rather, attempt to do so.
I made the rounds of banks in Dallas County. Over weeks, I became pretty discouraged. Bankers would tell me I could not live on the salary they paid. Sometimes, they would tell me nothing at all. Finally, one banker told me in a quite tactful way that my social class precluded my joining the Dallas banking fraternity. I had not gone to Southern Methodist University, did not live in Highland Park or University Park, was not a member of the right fraternity, or any fraternity, for that matter, and my efforts were doomed to failure.
I walked to my car and cried my eyes out. In retrospect, it was the best thing that man could have done to help me. I had to find another avenue.
I talked to my father. As mentioned, he was a salesman and made contacts with the right people. He had sold a large land parcel to a high-ranking executive with Southwestern Bell. Since my name was on a lot of the paperwork as the sponsoring broker, the conversation had apparently turned to me. The exec had told my father to send me to see him when I graduated. My father told me to do just that. I went to the building in Dallas and asked for an appointment. I am still waiting.
After I had begun my college career, motivated entirely by that idea, the draft lottery came into being and I made it past that obstacle. With each year, the odds of being conscripted lessened. By that time, though, I was having a lot of fun and chose to complete my undergraduate degree at the slowest possible pace without incurring the wrath of my parents.
I graduated with a degree in Finance, Insurance, and Real Estate (FIRE). I really had no interest in any of those areas. I had always gravitated toward history and geography after realizing early in my freshman year that I was not cut out to be a mathematician. I was good at math, alright, and really aspired to become an engineer of some sort. My parents were in dire financial straits, though, and I was fortunate to attend a nearby regional university. A college of engineering just wasn't in the cards. A product of the Great Depression, my father refused to borrow money in the form of a student loan or to allow me to do so. There were no Pell Grants back then. I did get offers of one year scholarships to a few good schools. My parents were distrustful of large institutions and felt that a one year scholarship would only serve to raise my expectations to completing a full course of study that they or I could not afford. It never occurred to us that subsequent scholarships might materialize in following years. We knew nothing about higher education.
My father had been forced to retire and we were strapped. He was a good salesman and managed to get another job selling real estate. The fellow he worked for was a fireman in Dallas with a significant drinking problem. In return for taking a healthy cut of my father's sales commissions, he would call my father while in a state of drunkenness and berate him for not making him more money. The solution was, of course, for my father to strike out on his own having established a good reputation and clientele. The "fly in the ointment" was that my father was semi-literate at best, having been on his own from the age of twelve. The educational and testing requirements for a broker's license were stringent. It just was not going to happen.
The plan developed for me to get a real estate broker's license and then my father could "work" for me. The courses needed to get such a certification fell under the FIRE department in the school of business, if you will. That is how I ended up with a business degree. I should add that it worked and my father made enough money to keep his home, pay bills, and put food on the table. I worked as a fry cook while in college to help pay my own way. It was a cooperative effort.
Thus, I matriculated with a business degree. In doing so, I had learned that I was not very good when it came to traits most necessary to be successful in the business world to include avarice and greed. I came to learn that the world of finance was based on the strong taking advantage of the weak and that insurance was very often a scheme based on people being sold policies they did not need or not covering losses most probable. I may have enjoyed the real estate business, I think, had not a horrendous economic downturn happened along, devastating the housing market. I was not the salesman my father was and there just wasn't enough business to support all of us.
I opted to go into banking, or rather, attempt to do so.
I made the rounds of banks in Dallas County. Over weeks, I became pretty discouraged. Bankers would tell me I could not live on the salary they paid. Sometimes, they would tell me nothing at all. Finally, one banker told me in a quite tactful way that my social class precluded my joining the Dallas banking fraternity. I had not gone to Southern Methodist University, did not live in Highland Park or University Park, was not a member of the right fraternity, or any fraternity, for that matter, and my efforts were doomed to failure.
I walked to my car and cried my eyes out. In retrospect, it was the best thing that man could have done to help me. I had to find another avenue.
I talked to my father. As mentioned, he was a salesman and made contacts with the right people. He had sold a large land parcel to a high-ranking executive with Southwestern Bell. Since my name was on a lot of the paperwork as the sponsoring broker, the conversation had apparently turned to me. The exec had told my father to send me to see him when I graduated. My father told me to do just that. I went to the building in Dallas and asked for an appointment. I am still waiting.
Friday, October 04, 2013
Affordable Care Act
It is probably no surprise to anyone who has read my previous posts that I am in favor of the Affordable Care Act. It is clearly time for this step in the evolution of our country.
The criticisms seem to come from two camps. One is that of fear and hatred. Some folks fear "death panels" or other such ridiculous notions. These criticisms merit no more argument than does segregation.
The other is a loss of freedom. Again, a reader of my past posts must realize that my experience has been that other entities than government present a greater threat to my freedoms. They include Big Pharma and corporate America in general.
I see no loss of freedom in the Interstate Highway System, FAA controlled air routes, and many other things the Federal government does. If they are able to reign in the excesses of our medical industry, I am all for it. We spend eighteen percent of GDP in this country, more than any other, for an inferior product. That is the attack on freedom. It needs attention.
Where were these folks when the Feds stepped in to save GM, Chrysler, and the banks?
The criticisms seem to come from two camps. One is that of fear and hatred. Some folks fear "death panels" or other such ridiculous notions. These criticisms merit no more argument than does segregation.
The other is a loss of freedom. Again, a reader of my past posts must realize that my experience has been that other entities than government present a greater threat to my freedoms. They include Big Pharma and corporate America in general.
I see no loss of freedom in the Interstate Highway System, FAA controlled air routes, and many other things the Federal government does. If they are able to reign in the excesses of our medical industry, I am all for it. We spend eighteen percent of GDP in this country, more than any other, for an inferior product. That is the attack on freedom. It needs attention.
Where were these folks when the Feds stepped in to save GM, Chrysler, and the banks?
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Why Can't Our Congresswoman hold a public meeting?
I certainly understand that, after the tragedy in AZ, security is to be considered. First, if we had a functioning mental health system in this country, there would be fewer tragedies of that sort. Second, we must not let events of that nature destroy our democratic republic. Lastly, there are methods of holding public meetings with adequate security precautions.
The real underlying reason this Congressional district has not seen public meetings is that the Congresswoman is aware enough of the real world to understand that Congress, in general, is not held in high esteem. If we add to that her allegiance to the Far Right and her dislike of cogent ideas, she just doesn't feel at home any more in this area, I think. The common people are altogether too common.
I recently moved here from the Midwest for personal reasons. I had the occasion to attend county fairs in rural Kansas. I watched as civic leaders engaged in friendly arguments, trying to be the first person to bid on the champion animal raised by a 4H youngster. To me, this seems the best place to support that entrepreneurial spirit we hear Right Wingers espouse. These young people select an animal, buy feed, keep records, care for the animal, and look forward to a profit when they sell. It is about as pure a form of capitalism as one may hope to find. And the civic leaders of those Kansas communities recognize that. They make certain the animal brings a premium to reward those youngsters for their hard work.
More recently, I attended a similar event in Southwest Washington. I was not really surprised that our Congressperson had no presence there, let alone did she attend. At auction time, I watched as the champion pig was offered for auction. There were no civic organizations, no politicians there clamoring to bid. I bought the animal at a fair price, at best. I wished someone had bid against me.
It seems that those folks on the right should put up or shut up.
To the point, our Congresswoman does not want to hear alternatives. She is of the opinion that, if one keeps an open mind, someone may put ideas in it. Hubert Humphrey said something to the effect that the moral test of government is the manner in which it treats those at the dawn of life, the children, those in the shadows of life, the disabled, and those at the twilight of life, the aged. Our Congresswoman doesn't adhere to such a philosophy. There are viable options that will be equitably painful for all. She does not want to hear them. There is no data to support many of the concepts she holds true. Often, the data proves just the opposite. She does not care.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
Here's Why I Can't Be a Republican, No Matter How Hard I Try
I have read of polls indicating that wealthy people are sure that they are wealthy because of something they did. In short, they earned the right to their wealth. While such an attitude is to be expected, factual analysis shows that the best path to riches is to be born to the right parents.
Some years ago, I happened to become acquainted with a scion of Dallas nobility. Coincidentally his ancestor, who had accumulated the wealth long ago, came from my little home town. It was there he began his fortune. He was a teamster, in the day that teamsters drove teams of mules or other draft animals. He freighted supplies across the prairie. Since the team knew the routes, the trips were boring. To pass the time, this fellow read law books. Eventually, he passed the bar exam and set up a law practice. Because his few clients had little or no cash, he was forced to take items in trade. Low on the list were the mineral rights to farms. The farmers thought little of signing away something they viewed as worthless. The lawyer could do no better, so he took what he could get.
Decades later, oil became an important commodity and those mineral rights were the basis for a huge fortune. There was really no great foresight or strategy. It just happened. Ol' Buck built a fine brick mansion which came to be known as "Ol' Red". He then fathered a substantial number of children. Those children did the same. And so on.
The first generation of offspring all inherited fabulous sums of money. Most all of them did typically Texas-sized things. One bought an island and added it to his sizable ranch. One built an amusement park to rival Disneyland.
After a generation or two, the fortune was diluted from the level of fabulous to perhaps substantial. Still, there was enough so that the children went to the right schools. In Dallas, for the boys, that was St. Mark's Prep and, for most, the college that all wealthy Dallasites consider the best in the world, Southern Methodist University. As an aside, I would mention that SMU once deigned to play my rinky-dink regional university in basketball, probably as a joke. That was the only college b'ball game I ever attended at which all the co-eds supporting the opposing team wore full length minks and pearl chokers! To the point, the third and fourth generation descendants of Ol' Buck went to the best schools and made all the right connections.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had scraped together enough money to make a down payment on a decrepit fishing cabin near a wonderful natural lake in East Texas. It was there I ran into Shane, I'll call him. Shane had also made a down payment on a little less decrepit cabin nearby. We began to go fishing together. That gave us time to talk. He liked to spend time with me and hear stories of the little town his family called home but no longer lived in.
Shane was at the time embroiled in a tempestuous relationship with the granddaughter of the fellow that owned nearly every warehouse in Dallas County, and many other counties. One evening, she got mad and threatened to drive back to Dallas alone. Shane went to her Jeep Grand Cherokee and ripped all the wires he could from beneath the dash. He walked to the lake and threw the bundle as far as he could throw. The young lady went to a neighbor and paid to be driven to the nearest sizable airport. There, Granddaddy's corporate jet swooped down and flew her the twenty minutes back to Big D.
Shane fancied himself a restaurateur. He had started several dives along Greenville Avenue in Dallas. All of them had failed, it seemed. I knew from my dealings with him that he was just as broke as I was, if not more so. I eventually got the courage to ask him how he was able to live a luxurious lifestyle with rich women, luxury cars, trips to Aspen and the Riviera, and a mansion in Highland Park.
He freely admitted he was broke as a twelve year old mule. The secret, he confided, was his background and social network. Shane told me he would come up with some crazy idea for an eatery and bar. He would then pull out the Rolodex. He would call twenty of his old friends from St. Mark's and/or SMU. The validity, or even sanity, of the idea had no bearing on the deal. Each friend was good for twenty-five grand, no questions asked. Thus funded with a half-million bucks, he would proceed to develop the concept, paying himself a healthy salary in the process. Eventually, he sold or closed the beanery, since he did not enjoy running the places. If there was any profit, it was returned to investors. If not, everybody had enjoyed being a big shot owner of a trendy bistro and got a tax write-off. He had done this several times and had not gone very deep in the Rolodex, at all. Finally, as he grew older, Shane established a successful eatery and settled down to run it.
I was reminded of the days shortly after my graduation from Rinky-Dink U. Armed with a degree in Finance and a very conservative outlook, I made the rounds to every bank in Dallas County. I got every answer but yes.
One bank VP with French cuffs and gold links told me, "You would not be able to live on what we pay."
Undaunted, I pressed on to the suburbs. Finally, a fellow in Duncanville took me in his private office and leveled with me.
"Around here, you will find all the banks are only interested in fellows with the right background, right schools, right fraternities, you know." I went to my car and sat in the hot Texas sun for a long time before driving home to my new wife.
Eventually, I walked into a downtown Dallas life insurance headquarters. To my surprise, the personnel officer was a native of my little home town. His father owned the picture show there. In short order, I was hired into a position for which I was completely unqualified. Coincidentally, that was where I saw Ronald Reagan. The Gipper, lately governor of California, came to beg from the owner of the insurance company so he could run for President.
Thus, my real education began. Without the connections, I could get nowhere. With connections, I got places I did not belong.
Sour grapes? By the bushel! That does not change the relevance of all this.
The relevance of all this, in my opinion, rests in the current political craziness. Poll after poll tells us that there are so many people who have been lulled into the belief that they, and they alone, have earned and deserve health, wealth, and privilege because their forebears earned it for them. Those of us that have never inherited, and will never inherit, a penny don't see it that way. History has shown us that situations such as exist today will ultimately culminate in a fair redistribution of resources. Then the process will start all over again. The variable is the level of pain and violence that must happen in order for it to take place. MacArthur led the troops against the Bonus Army. Dr. King gave his life for change.
Let us hope that reason prevails, and soon.
Some years ago, I happened to become acquainted with a scion of Dallas nobility. Coincidentally his ancestor, who had accumulated the wealth long ago, came from my little home town. It was there he began his fortune. He was a teamster, in the day that teamsters drove teams of mules or other draft animals. He freighted supplies across the prairie. Since the team knew the routes, the trips were boring. To pass the time, this fellow read law books. Eventually, he passed the bar exam and set up a law practice. Because his few clients had little or no cash, he was forced to take items in trade. Low on the list were the mineral rights to farms. The farmers thought little of signing away something they viewed as worthless. The lawyer could do no better, so he took what he could get.
Decades later, oil became an important commodity and those mineral rights were the basis for a huge fortune. There was really no great foresight or strategy. It just happened. Ol' Buck built a fine brick mansion which came to be known as "Ol' Red". He then fathered a substantial number of children. Those children did the same. And so on.
The first generation of offspring all inherited fabulous sums of money. Most all of them did typically Texas-sized things. One bought an island and added it to his sizable ranch. One built an amusement park to rival Disneyland.
After a generation or two, the fortune was diluted from the level of fabulous to perhaps substantial. Still, there was enough so that the children went to the right schools. In Dallas, for the boys, that was St. Mark's Prep and, for most, the college that all wealthy Dallasites consider the best in the world, Southern Methodist University. As an aside, I would mention that SMU once deigned to play my rinky-dink regional university in basketball, probably as a joke. That was the only college b'ball game I ever attended at which all the co-eds supporting the opposing team wore full length minks and pearl chokers! To the point, the third and fourth generation descendants of Ol' Buck went to the best schools and made all the right connections.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had scraped together enough money to make a down payment on a decrepit fishing cabin near a wonderful natural lake in East Texas. It was there I ran into Shane, I'll call him. Shane had also made a down payment on a little less decrepit cabin nearby. We began to go fishing together. That gave us time to talk. He liked to spend time with me and hear stories of the little town his family called home but no longer lived in.
Shane was at the time embroiled in a tempestuous relationship with the granddaughter of the fellow that owned nearly every warehouse in Dallas County, and many other counties. One evening, she got mad and threatened to drive back to Dallas alone. Shane went to her Jeep Grand Cherokee and ripped all the wires he could from beneath the dash. He walked to the lake and threw the bundle as far as he could throw. The young lady went to a neighbor and paid to be driven to the nearest sizable airport. There, Granddaddy's corporate jet swooped down and flew her the twenty minutes back to Big D.
Shane fancied himself a restaurateur. He had started several dives along Greenville Avenue in Dallas. All of them had failed, it seemed. I knew from my dealings with him that he was just as broke as I was, if not more so. I eventually got the courage to ask him how he was able to live a luxurious lifestyle with rich women, luxury cars, trips to Aspen and the Riviera, and a mansion in Highland Park.
He freely admitted he was broke as a twelve year old mule. The secret, he confided, was his background and social network. Shane told me he would come up with some crazy idea for an eatery and bar. He would then pull out the Rolodex. He would call twenty of his old friends from St. Mark's and/or SMU. The validity, or even sanity, of the idea had no bearing on the deal. Each friend was good for twenty-five grand, no questions asked. Thus funded with a half-million bucks, he would proceed to develop the concept, paying himself a healthy salary in the process. Eventually, he sold or closed the beanery, since he did not enjoy running the places. If there was any profit, it was returned to investors. If not, everybody had enjoyed being a big shot owner of a trendy bistro and got a tax write-off. He had done this several times and had not gone very deep in the Rolodex, at all. Finally, as he grew older, Shane established a successful eatery and settled down to run it.
I was reminded of the days shortly after my graduation from Rinky-Dink U. Armed with a degree in Finance and a very conservative outlook, I made the rounds to every bank in Dallas County. I got every answer but yes.
One bank VP with French cuffs and gold links told me, "You would not be able to live on what we pay."
Undaunted, I pressed on to the suburbs. Finally, a fellow in Duncanville took me in his private office and leveled with me.
"Around here, you will find all the banks are only interested in fellows with the right background, right schools, right fraternities, you know." I went to my car and sat in the hot Texas sun for a long time before driving home to my new wife.
Eventually, I walked into a downtown Dallas life insurance headquarters. To my surprise, the personnel officer was a native of my little home town. His father owned the picture show there. In short order, I was hired into a position for which I was completely unqualified. Coincidentally, that was where I saw Ronald Reagan. The Gipper, lately governor of California, came to beg from the owner of the insurance company so he could run for President.
Thus, my real education began. Without the connections, I could get nowhere. With connections, I got places I did not belong.
Sour grapes? By the bushel! That does not change the relevance of all this.
The relevance of all this, in my opinion, rests in the current political craziness. Poll after poll tells us that there are so many people who have been lulled into the belief that they, and they alone, have earned and deserve health, wealth, and privilege because their forebears earned it for them. Those of us that have never inherited, and will never inherit, a penny don't see it that way. History has shown us that situations such as exist today will ultimately culminate in a fair redistribution of resources. Then the process will start all over again. The variable is the level of pain and violence that must happen in order for it to take place. MacArthur led the troops against the Bonus Army. Dr. King gave his life for change.
Let us hope that reason prevails, and soon.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The High Cost of Medical Mistakes
My wife receives treatment for a rather uncommon type of cancer. Although we have insurance, the medicine is very expensive and, for that reason, we monitor the hospital bills and explanations of benefits closely.
The medication consists of two cancer fighting injections in a month, both administered on the same day. Each dose costs over six thousand dollars for a total cost well over twelve thousand dollars every month. I can fathom no other explanation for the exorbitant cost of the medication than Big Pharma's greed. On top of that, the stuff is very particular about how it is handled. If not handled properly, the medication sets up like glue in the injection needle and cannot be administered.
Because of the rarity of patients with this disease along with turnover at the Oncology Center in the hospital, the same person never administers the medication. Each month is a learning experience. In April, a nurse assisting the nurse who was administering the medication mishandled one of the syringes. The medication set like concrete. My wife waited as the nurse had to send to the pharmacy for another dosage. Ultimately, my wife did get two injections that day.
When we reviewed the bills, we discovered the hospital billed our insurance for three doses at six thousand dollars per dose! My wife received only two. Rather than hold the nurse accountable, the hospital passed the expense of her mistake on to the insurance company.
Big pharma makes money, the hospital makes money, and the nurse makes money, despite her lack of competence. The insurance passes the cost to the policy holders.
Every conservative-authored plan ostensibly enacting health care reform does nothing to reign in the exorbitant, sometimes fraudulent, overcharging by doctors and hospitals. If we are to control health care costs, we should hold the medical institutions and medical professionals accountable for their performance. The old saying that doctors bury their mistakes should be amended to add that they then bill for the bungling.
The medication consists of two cancer fighting injections in a month, both administered on the same day. Each dose costs over six thousand dollars for a total cost well over twelve thousand dollars every month. I can fathom no other explanation for the exorbitant cost of the medication than Big Pharma's greed. On top of that, the stuff is very particular about how it is handled. If not handled properly, the medication sets up like glue in the injection needle and cannot be administered.
Because of the rarity of patients with this disease along with turnover at the Oncology Center in the hospital, the same person never administers the medication. Each month is a learning experience. In April, a nurse assisting the nurse who was administering the medication mishandled one of the syringes. The medication set like concrete. My wife waited as the nurse had to send to the pharmacy for another dosage. Ultimately, my wife did get two injections that day.
When we reviewed the bills, we discovered the hospital billed our insurance for three doses at six thousand dollars per dose! My wife received only two. Rather than hold the nurse accountable, the hospital passed the expense of her mistake on to the insurance company.
Big pharma makes money, the hospital makes money, and the nurse makes money, despite her lack of competence. The insurance passes the cost to the policy holders.
Every conservative-authored plan ostensibly enacting health care reform does nothing to reign in the exorbitant, sometimes fraudulent, overcharging by doctors and hospitals. If we are to control health care costs, we should hold the medical institutions and medical professionals accountable for their performance. The old saying that doctors bury their mistakes should be amended to add that they then bill for the bungling.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
A Historical Perspective
I just finished reading Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose. It is a synopsis or recounting of the adventures of the Corps of Discovery, The Lewis and Clark expedition. Captain Clark apparently developed quite a reputation as a physician among the Plains Indians. He held clinics in which the patient paid for his/her care with supplies essential to the success of the venture.
Once, an aged man came to Clark complaining of pain in his knee and thigh. As Clark prepared treatment, the old man's son told Clark that the process was a waste, as his father was old, useless, and soon would die.
Thus we have perhaps the earliest articulation of the Ryan Medicare plan in American History.
Once, an aged man came to Clark complaining of pain in his knee and thigh. As Clark prepared treatment, the old man's son told Clark that the process was a waste, as his father was old, useless, and soon would die.
Thus we have perhaps the earliest articulation of the Ryan Medicare plan in American History.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Humorists Then And Now
Lately, we have heard a lot about civility in political speech. There seems to be evidence that the nature of political speech has not changed but rather our society's ability to behave with civility.
"There ought to be one day - just one - where there is open season on senators."
Above is a quote from Will Rogers, the great American humorist. In his day, the American people had enough sense to know a joke when they heard one. To my knowledge, Rogers was not investigated by the FBI or Secret Service about his remark. Maybe that is because they were busy chasing bootleggers and counterfeiters back then.
In any event, I do not support Mr. Rogers' statement, for the record. It was a joke, perhaps in poor taste, but a joke. It seems we Americans are incapable of laughing at ourselves anymore.
"There ought to be one day - just one - where there is open season on senators."
Above is a quote from Will Rogers, the great American humorist. In his day, the American people had enough sense to know a joke when they heard one. To my knowledge, Rogers was not investigated by the FBI or Secret Service about his remark. Maybe that is because they were busy chasing bootleggers and counterfeiters back then.
In any event, I do not support Mr. Rogers' statement, for the record. It was a joke, perhaps in poor taste, but a joke. It seems we Americans are incapable of laughing at ourselves anymore.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The Speech After the Tragedy
After listening to President Obama's speech in Arizona, it seems clear he is the best communicator to hold the office since FDR. He spoke to all of us while speaking to the families. The speech was powerful, placing no blame and motivating us toward healing. Most moving was his call to make our country the country the little girl, Christine, envisioned. While his shortcomings are adversely impacting his Presidency, to date his major speeches are not among them.
It now appears the President's political minions stupidly co-opted the memorial as a political rally by handing out T-shirts! This is despicable and heads should roll. I only hope the President was not party to this travesty.
Further, I found the cheering and applause to be rude and disrespectful to bereaved family members and those attending to pay respect to the victims. Never before had I heard applause and cheers after the reading of Paul's letter to the Corinthians. We must attribute the behavior to the fact that the event was held in a college venue and the young people in attendance had not the depth of emotion to understand the vulgarity of these demonstrations.
Since I happened to be tuned to CBS, an interview with members of Congress followed. Their answers were shallow and self serving, regardless of party affiliation. They wreaked of fear and self-pity. One Congressman's attempt to equate a madman with the terrible bigotry of the past was feeble and denigrating to both issues. Yet another Member pitifully related the impact of this tragedy on her children. All members jumped at the opportunity to rationalize distancing themselves from their constituents.
The best leaders are those that lead from the front. It sickens me to hear legislators refer to themselves as public servants. They don't get paid like servants. They aren't treated like servants. They are not servants, but leaders, and should behave as such.
While it is imperative that the violence be prevented, we must also remember that American politics has always been vitriolic and violent. Alexander Hamilton died from wounds inflicted by a former Vice President. Andrew Jackson's temper was legendary. He was a violent man. Abraham Lincoln is said to have made a speech while a state legislator in which he ridiculed a political opponent so viciously as to reduce the man to tears even as he sat in the state house. Lincoln, in turn, was the victim of the most vicious attacks, and, of course, assassination. Franklin Roosevelt was denounced as a Communist by many. McCarthy was a snake of a man, destroying many good people in his quest for greatness. Martin Luther King appealed to many because offered an alternative to violence when cities were burning.
The day President Kennedy died, I, a Catholic boy, sat in a public school room. I was dumbfounded when a classmate stood up after the teacher left the room in tears and shouted, "They got that Catholic sonofabitch!" As a child, he must have learned that hate at home.
We are a violent people.
People have strong feelings about the role of government. Often, they interpret the methods of our Founding Fathers incorrectly to justify a violent dissent. Others are simply predisposed to violence as a solution. Still others are just plain crazy.
The tragedy itself was the result of failure. A young man with a severe illness self-medicated with drugs and alcohol. To date, we do not know what, if any, attempts his family made to seek treatment for him. Once a person reaches his or her mid teens, there is really little control a parent can exert on a mentally ill child. Although the signs were there, no one else, including law enforcement and educators, chose to address his illness. That in no way excuses alleged his actions or exonerates him.
We need a comprehensive health care system to include mental health care. The recent health care reform is a first feeble step. We must eradicate illegal drugs and drug dealers. Personally, an alcohol free country would be a better country, as well. That is why we must join the President in making this a better country.
The President used this tragedy as an opportunity for a call to greatness. Let us strive for that greatness.
It now appears the President's political minions stupidly co-opted the memorial as a political rally by handing out T-shirts! This is despicable and heads should roll. I only hope the President was not party to this travesty.
Further, I found the cheering and applause to be rude and disrespectful to bereaved family members and those attending to pay respect to the victims. Never before had I heard applause and cheers after the reading of Paul's letter to the Corinthians. We must attribute the behavior to the fact that the event was held in a college venue and the young people in attendance had not the depth of emotion to understand the vulgarity of these demonstrations.
Since I happened to be tuned to CBS, an interview with members of Congress followed. Their answers were shallow and self serving, regardless of party affiliation. They wreaked of fear and self-pity. One Congressman's attempt to equate a madman with the terrible bigotry of the past was feeble and denigrating to both issues. Yet another Member pitifully related the impact of this tragedy on her children. All members jumped at the opportunity to rationalize distancing themselves from their constituents.
The best leaders are those that lead from the front. It sickens me to hear legislators refer to themselves as public servants. They don't get paid like servants. They aren't treated like servants. They are not servants, but leaders, and should behave as such.
While it is imperative that the violence be prevented, we must also remember that American politics has always been vitriolic and violent. Alexander Hamilton died from wounds inflicted by a former Vice President. Andrew Jackson's temper was legendary. He was a violent man. Abraham Lincoln is said to have made a speech while a state legislator in which he ridiculed a political opponent so viciously as to reduce the man to tears even as he sat in the state house. Lincoln, in turn, was the victim of the most vicious attacks, and, of course, assassination. Franklin Roosevelt was denounced as a Communist by many. McCarthy was a snake of a man, destroying many good people in his quest for greatness. Martin Luther King appealed to many because offered an alternative to violence when cities were burning.
The day President Kennedy died, I, a Catholic boy, sat in a public school room. I was dumbfounded when a classmate stood up after the teacher left the room in tears and shouted, "They got that Catholic sonofabitch!" As a child, he must have learned that hate at home.
We are a violent people.
People have strong feelings about the role of government. Often, they interpret the methods of our Founding Fathers incorrectly to justify a violent dissent. Others are simply predisposed to violence as a solution. Still others are just plain crazy.
The tragedy itself was the result of failure. A young man with a severe illness self-medicated with drugs and alcohol. To date, we do not know what, if any, attempts his family made to seek treatment for him. Once a person reaches his or her mid teens, there is really little control a parent can exert on a mentally ill child. Although the signs were there, no one else, including law enforcement and educators, chose to address his illness. That in no way excuses alleged his actions or exonerates him.
We need a comprehensive health care system to include mental health care. The recent health care reform is a first feeble step. We must eradicate illegal drugs and drug dealers. Personally, an alcohol free country would be a better country, as well. That is why we must join the President in making this a better country.
The President used this tragedy as an opportunity for a call to greatness. Let us strive for that greatness.
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Christmas has gone!
And now we have a new year. Let us hope this year will be a better one.
The Repubs have gained control of the House. The new Speaker has said that the mission is to repeal the job killing health care law. Does he not understand that the broken system of health care delivery is killing people, not jobs?
We have established friendships with many of the other survivors that are fighting the same cancer as my wife is fighting. Most are not as fortunate as we are to have health insurance with all of the features mandated by the upcoming changes. As a result, the list of survivors shrinks regularly. So many of these folks reach the point, sooner or later, at which they are unable to afford the medication which keeps them alive and allows them to function. Then, they are gone.
The new Speaker is a heavy smoker, I understand. When his turn comes, will he abstain from the health insurance offered to members of Congress? Will he go quietly into the night? I doubt it. Unlike so many afflicted by disease of unknown etiology, he could lessen the risk of his disease by changing his behavior. He refuses, offering a damnable example to young people in the process. Some leader!
The Repubs have gained control of the House. The new Speaker has said that the mission is to repeal the job killing health care law. Does he not understand that the broken system of health care delivery is killing people, not jobs?
We have established friendships with many of the other survivors that are fighting the same cancer as my wife is fighting. Most are not as fortunate as we are to have health insurance with all of the features mandated by the upcoming changes. As a result, the list of survivors shrinks regularly. So many of these folks reach the point, sooner or later, at which they are unable to afford the medication which keeps them alive and allows them to function. Then, they are gone.
The new Speaker is a heavy smoker, I understand. When his turn comes, will he abstain from the health insurance offered to members of Congress? Will he go quietly into the night? I doubt it. Unlike so many afflicted by disease of unknown etiology, he could lessen the risk of his disease by changing his behavior. He refuses, offering a damnable example to young people in the process. Some leader!
Monday, December 06, 2010
Good News!
The MRI led to another MRI and, ultimately, to a biopsy of the bone. They found no cancer in the bone. Hooray!! The doctor's advice was to recheck in six months. In the meantime, she will use a cane to relieve the strain on the hip.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Friday, April 09, 2010
To Opponents of Healthcare
I thought like you until my beautiful young wife was stricken with a rare cancer which our existing health care system had misdiagnosed for five years until it was too late. We were in a managed health care plan and the doc was paid a flat fee for each patient for which he was PC physician. Since the tests that would have found her cancer were costly, he didn't find it until she was in terrible pain and the cancer had spread to many parts of her body. Thank God, we changed docs and the hemi-colectomy saved her life. The mets are still there. They couldn't get them all. Taking the primary slowed the disease, though. In order to control the incessant diarrhea, she must take meds costing $150K per year.
It is only because I have the insurance on which the reform is modeled that she still has the freedom to unleash her God given talents to do what she is called to do. Without that protection, our life would be periods of constant diarrhea ultimately resulting in dehydration to the point of collapse. Then, because we would by now be on welfare, the ambulance would take her to the ER where they would pump her full of fluids. After a few days in the hospital, they would cut her loose to begin the cycle over again. It would not be long until the bed sores, pneumonia, and all the bad stuff associated with being bed ridden would have taken her. Because of the insurance with the features all will soon have, we can pay for her palliative care and she manages her pain and symptoms. That enables her to work every day and pay taxes.
The simple fact is that insurance companies and disease currently have control over many people's lives. I can go on and on. If you are thinking the unthinkable, you are the one really advocating your own personal "death panel" and you are despicable.
All human life is precious. So many naive or ignorant people think that if you are a Stage IV cancer patient, you must go to a hospice and die, thereby relieving the rest of us from dealing with you, kind of like a leper in the Bible. A life of wonderful quality is possible after a catastrophic illness. Pain can be managed and a person can contribute to society far in excess of the cost of their care. Stephen Hawking is a wonderful example of that. I think he lives in the UK, whose health coverage is reviled by all you conservatives. And if you want to argue the Constitution, I believe that wonderful document guarantees us the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. To me, that means the government has not only the right, but the responsibility, to foster a health care system in which people like my wife can live and make every attempt to be happy.
If you want to throw around "isms", Hitler's Nazism included the idea that those deemed inferior should be denied medical care and allowed to die.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Published! (Kinda)
I wrote a brief article about some fishing tackle I have owned for thirty years and submitted it to the manufacturer's website in a contest. It was selected for publication and I received a nice new reel in return. Now, if anybody ever read my blog.....
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Takin' the Fifth
On the evening newscasts, the Salahis are being skewered by a Congressional committee. As is their right, the invoke the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution and its protection.
The Congressmen are adept at making these folks look foolish and, perhaps, criminal. After all, they are lawyers for the most part and they know the response they are getting is the only intelligent one. Congressmen and women are drooling for camera time. That is all this is about.
These folks may or may not have thought they were invited to the People's House. Either way, they apparently threatened no one, nor did they hurt anyone. The worst thing they may have done was eat some of Colin Powell's caviar, or rather government caviar intended for Colin.
Some self-absorbed appointee most likely offered them a left handed verbal invitation. Regardless, they did not represent themselves as anyone but who they really are. They are guilty of incredible arrogance and self-aggrandizement at worst. A Secret Service guard failed in his duty, it appears. That should be addressed.
I never met these people and do not want to meet them. I just don't think they are criminals with relation to the White House dinner.
The Congressmen are adept at making these folks look foolish and, perhaps, criminal. After all, they are lawyers for the most part and they know the response they are getting is the only intelligent one. Congressmen and women are drooling for camera time. That is all this is about.
These folks may or may not have thought they were invited to the People's House. Either way, they apparently threatened no one, nor did they hurt anyone. The worst thing they may have done was eat some of Colin Powell's caviar, or rather government caviar intended for Colin.
Some self-absorbed appointee most likely offered them a left handed verbal invitation. Regardless, they did not represent themselves as anyone but who they really are. They are guilty of incredible arrogance and self-aggrandizement at worst. A Secret Service guard failed in his duty, it appears. That should be addressed.
I never met these people and do not want to meet them. I just don't think they are criminals with relation to the White House dinner.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
How Government Works - An Oxymoron
In school, we were told that our government has three branches. Some of us remember that. Most do not. Coincidentally, government has three levels of functionality, or rather, dysfunctionality.
The lowest level consists of the folks who keep things going. They patrol borders, account for mineral royalties owed to the Federal government, chase bank robbers, maintain aircraft, and collect taxes. They work hard for low pay. Witness the fact that many former Feds are the best defense attorneys and tax consultants. They do a lot better in the private sector.
The middle level starts at some level of management up to the highest level career employees, short of political appointees. These folks may or may not know anything about the mission of their agency. That is immaterial. Their interests lie in building turf and protecting same, covering their butts, and kissing the bottoms of peers and higher-ups in the interest of said turf protection and the acquisition of power. Power is what they live for. It is everything to them. And, because they have such a mean existence, they exercise that power in ways that are disgusting to normal human beings. If all you have is a twisted pomposity, you relish the opportunity to hurt others for no reason.
One such megalomaniac was responsible for staffing a large number of government offices in the midwest. Other bureaucrats more in line with the first group of government had recruited and trained good people who must then be turned over to the imperious little fiend. It happened that one newbie lived in Town A while another lived in Town B about two hundred miles away. Both recruits did well in training and showed equal promise. There were identical vacancies in both Towns A and B. The big shot saw an opportunity to inflict his will in a painful way and was never one to miss an opportunity. Gloating amid his subordinate staff, he purposefully assigned the resident of Town A to the vacancy in Town B and vice versa. He made no secret of his motive, for what good is your paltry little authority if you can't brag about misusing it within your fiefdom?
Of course, the result was that the recruits balked at the assignments and resigned. This meant the petty tyrant had wasted a lot of government money in such a way that would never be traced to his actions. The agency had to recruit and train two more employees. It is interesting to note this little man died within six months of retirement. Without some subordinates to mistreat, he wasted away quickly.
Another thing these mid level miscreants spend time on is bedding subordinates in return for favors and/or veiled promises. If the subordinate is able to get the jerk to come through with the promotion promised, the subordinate often becomes a willing vassal helping to enlarge and protect the fiefdom. The subordinate may sometimes be awarded a fiefdom all their own. In Texas, the leadership of one government agency can be traced through such relationships back several generations. A woman widowed early by WWII took a lover or two. Some of the fellows may have been congressmen, it is rumored. She gained her sizable holdings in this manner. She passed the empire on to the next generation in a similar way. It has been going on for sixty years now to successive despots of both sexes.
That is pretty typical stuff in government.
We must not forget the third and final level. These are the political appointees. They know nothing about the mission of the agency. Their specialty is delivering money and votes to the candidate. Other than that, they are clueless! They are the antithesis of vampires, coming to life only when camera strobes throw light upon their pale faces. Appointees live for photo ops. Political appointees never lie in the strictest sense because they think that, if they said something, it must be true. It is not that they disregard facts so much as they are unable to identify them. The world in which they live is perfect and they recognize nothing to the contrary. A perfect example is Napolitano's assertion that the system worked, despite the fact that a Nigerian terrorist failed to destroy an air liner in mid-air only because of his incompetence in mixing chemical cocktails. She really believed her statement to be true because she has absolutely no link to reality.
The politico must have well appointed corner offices, a limo at least as nice as the last appointee had, and someone to carry luggage on junkets. The jerks in the middle level see to all of this as part of turf protection and enhancement. It is also the responsibility of the middle to maintain the fairy world in which all political appointees and elected officials reside. The middle filters all information, being sure to remove any unsavory truth and replace it with the things the appointee wants, nay, needs to hear.
Appointees have names like Dorcas and Rahm, which precludes them from ever getting elected to positions of significance in their own right. They bask in the reflected glory of others. After all, they paid for it.
The lowest level consists of the folks who keep things going. They patrol borders, account for mineral royalties owed to the Federal government, chase bank robbers, maintain aircraft, and collect taxes. They work hard for low pay. Witness the fact that many former Feds are the best defense attorneys and tax consultants. They do a lot better in the private sector.
The middle level starts at some level of management up to the highest level career employees, short of political appointees. These folks may or may not know anything about the mission of their agency. That is immaterial. Their interests lie in building turf and protecting same, covering their butts, and kissing the bottoms of peers and higher-ups in the interest of said turf protection and the acquisition of power. Power is what they live for. It is everything to them. And, because they have such a mean existence, they exercise that power in ways that are disgusting to normal human beings. If all you have is a twisted pomposity, you relish the opportunity to hurt others for no reason.
One such megalomaniac was responsible for staffing a large number of government offices in the midwest. Other bureaucrats more in line with the first group of government had recruited and trained good people who must then be turned over to the imperious little fiend. It happened that one newbie lived in Town A while another lived in Town B about two hundred miles away. Both recruits did well in training and showed equal promise. There were identical vacancies in both Towns A and B. The big shot saw an opportunity to inflict his will in a painful way and was never one to miss an opportunity. Gloating amid his subordinate staff, he purposefully assigned the resident of Town A to the vacancy in Town B and vice versa. He made no secret of his motive, for what good is your paltry little authority if you can't brag about misusing it within your fiefdom?
Of course, the result was that the recruits balked at the assignments and resigned. This meant the petty tyrant had wasted a lot of government money in such a way that would never be traced to his actions. The agency had to recruit and train two more employees. It is interesting to note this little man died within six months of retirement. Without some subordinates to mistreat, he wasted away quickly.
Another thing these mid level miscreants spend time on is bedding subordinates in return for favors and/or veiled promises. If the subordinate is able to get the jerk to come through with the promotion promised, the subordinate often becomes a willing vassal helping to enlarge and protect the fiefdom. The subordinate may sometimes be awarded a fiefdom all their own. In Texas, the leadership of one government agency can be traced through such relationships back several generations. A woman widowed early by WWII took a lover or two. Some of the fellows may have been congressmen, it is rumored. She gained her sizable holdings in this manner. She passed the empire on to the next generation in a similar way. It has been going on for sixty years now to successive despots of both sexes.
That is pretty typical stuff in government.
We must not forget the third and final level. These are the political appointees. They know nothing about the mission of the agency. Their specialty is delivering money and votes to the candidate. Other than that, they are clueless! They are the antithesis of vampires, coming to life only when camera strobes throw light upon their pale faces. Appointees live for photo ops. Political appointees never lie in the strictest sense because they think that, if they said something, it must be true. It is not that they disregard facts so much as they are unable to identify them. The world in which they live is perfect and they recognize nothing to the contrary. A perfect example is Napolitano's assertion that the system worked, despite the fact that a Nigerian terrorist failed to destroy an air liner in mid-air only because of his incompetence in mixing chemical cocktails. She really believed her statement to be true because she has absolutely no link to reality.
The politico must have well appointed corner offices, a limo at least as nice as the last appointee had, and someone to carry luggage on junkets. The jerks in the middle level see to all of this as part of turf protection and enhancement. It is also the responsibility of the middle to maintain the fairy world in which all political appointees and elected officials reside. The middle filters all information, being sure to remove any unsavory truth and replace it with the things the appointee wants, nay, needs to hear.
Appointees have names like Dorcas and Rahm, which precludes them from ever getting elected to positions of significance in their own right. They bask in the reflected glory of others. After all, they paid for it.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
May I Suggest?
For the past few months, it appears that the fund raising for breast cancer research has taken a uniquely fashionable turn. I have heard the slogan, "Save the TaTas." We have all seen the pink glove video from the Portland hospital.
This is great stuff and I hope a cure is in the near future. The sad part about funding for cancer research is that it is a zero sum game. There is a limited pool of funding. Research into a cure for the particularly nasty cancer which has attacked my wife and many others gets little or no funding.
No one has, as yet, attempted to make carcinoid cancer glamorous or interesting. The disease carries with it symptoms that are very unpleasant, to say the least. It is also an expensive disease. Chemotherapy won't stop it in most cases, nor will radiation. The only option is palative care which costs tens of thousands each month. My wife has pointed out that she sees a new group of patients at the oncology clinic every few months. They either respond to treatment and get better or they do not and are gone.
Can we do better? Certainly. More people should call for a cure to this dreaded disease. Will you be one of them?
This is great stuff and I hope a cure is in the near future. The sad part about funding for cancer research is that it is a zero sum game. There is a limited pool of funding. Research into a cure for the particularly nasty cancer which has attacked my wife and many others gets little or no funding.
No one has, as yet, attempted to make carcinoid cancer glamorous or interesting. The disease carries with it symptoms that are very unpleasant, to say the least. It is also an expensive disease. Chemotherapy won't stop it in most cases, nor will radiation. The only option is palative care which costs tens of thousands each month. My wife has pointed out that she sees a new group of patients at the oncology clinic every few months. They either respond to treatment and get better or they do not and are gone.
Can we do better? Certainly. More people should call for a cure to this dreaded disease. Will you be one of them?
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Neo-cons and Other Robots
I just saw a video of Barney Frank addressing a "question" asked by someone who is about half-way through her paper cup of Kool-Aid. She holds up a sign depicting our President as a Hitler look-alike and calls health insurance reform a Nazi policy.
Now, I did not vote for Obama. Nonetheless, since Chuck Heston is gone, he is my President. I don't like people, however ignorant they may be, comparing a duly elected President of the United States to a genocidal maniac. I certainly understand Rep. Frank's reluctance to attempt any meaningful discourse with the woman. His comparison to a dining room table is unfair to tasteful, well-made furniture everywhere.
The simple fact is she and many other youngsters like her are enjoying the free ride. They will wait until they are seriously injured or sick to jump on the welfare wagon and soak the rest of us for free medical care. Sure, she squeals. So do all the other piggies at the trough.
So, tune back in to Beck or Rush and finish your Kool-Aid, dear.
Now, I did not vote for Obama. Nonetheless, since Chuck Heston is gone, he is my President. I don't like people, however ignorant they may be, comparing a duly elected President of the United States to a genocidal maniac. I certainly understand Rep. Frank's reluctance to attempt any meaningful discourse with the woman. His comparison to a dining room table is unfair to tasteful, well-made furniture everywhere.
The simple fact is she and many other youngsters like her are enjoying the free ride. They will wait until they are seriously injured or sick to jump on the welfare wagon and soak the rest of us for free medical care. Sure, she squeals. So do all the other piggies at the trough.
So, tune back in to Beck or Rush and finish your Kool-Aid, dear.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Why You Don't Like Me
I got it figured out. I have been less and less palatable to most people over the last twenty years. I used to wonder why. I figured it out. It's consistency.
I am anti-abortion, with the usual caveats. I believe it is wrong to take a life. I am also against capital punishment. I believe it is wrong to take a life. Simple, see? In today's world, the position I hold is weird.
I believe the Second Amendment of the Constitution guarantees that we have the right to bear arms. I also am in favor of Prohibition extended to alcohol, tobacco, and non-pharmaceuticals. Nowhere is tobacco mentioned in the Constitution, nor is alcohol. Simple, see?
As for race relations, since I view the concept of race as a non-entity created by people to cause trouble, the rest is obvious. See my previous posts if you really want to get ticked off.
So liberal folks and conservatives alike don't like to talk to me. My guess is, you'll never read this blog again. Nice not meeting you.
Did I mention I don't like pigeons?
I am anti-abortion, with the usual caveats. I believe it is wrong to take a life. I am also against capital punishment. I believe it is wrong to take a life. Simple, see? In today's world, the position I hold is weird.
I believe the Second Amendment of the Constitution guarantees that we have the right to bear arms. I also am in favor of Prohibition extended to alcohol, tobacco, and non-pharmaceuticals. Nowhere is tobacco mentioned in the Constitution, nor is alcohol. Simple, see?
As for race relations, since I view the concept of race as a non-entity created by people to cause trouble, the rest is obvious. See my previous posts if you really want to get ticked off.
So liberal folks and conservatives alike don't like to talk to me. My guess is, you'll never read this blog again. Nice not meeting you.
Did I mention I don't like pigeons?
Friday, August 07, 2009
Health Insurance
It seems to me the wrong sides are arguing for and against a national health insurance plan. Conservatives are against. Liberals appear to be for.
Long ago, the underwriters would sit around sipping coffee at Lloyd's in London. I was just a baby then and don't remember the details. It seems a shipper would plan a voyage across the seas. There were uncharted reefs and terrific storms. Maybe his ship would make it out and back, maybe not. Since ships cost a lot of money, not to mention the cargo, the shipper would go to the coffee house and talk to the underwriters. They had a chalkboard. They would write the details of the voyage on the board. Then, a large group would get together. The larger the group, the more the risk was diluted. The shipper paid the underwriters some money. In return, the underwriters agreed to share the expenses if the ship were lost. This practice is about as basic a form of capitalism as you can find.
Right now, the folks the conservatives deride do not pay. We who do have insurance pay for them. They get substandard care which prolongs their illness and increases costs. The provider passes the costs on by charging the rest of us more. The only people I can see that have a vested interest in continuing the present system are the providers.
I have read about union folks showing up at town hall meetings. Unions are supposed to be bad. The most powerful union in this country is the AMA. When they show up, you won't be able to get into the parking lot for all the Beamers and Benzes.
All doctors should be required to perform six years of compulsory service in the U.S Public Health Service. In return, they could get part of their fabled student loans forgiven. They get a lot of good experience, to boot.
Anyone who has read my previous posts knows my wife has a Stage IV cancer. They also know it went undiagnosed for at least ten years despite regular checkups and a litany of complaints and symptoms. Her treatments now cost over one hundred thousand dollars a year. We are fortunate that we have health insurance which is, coincidentally, overseen by the Federal government. We cannot be dropped and there is no lifetime max. Hopefully, that will not change, although there are no guarantees in life. I cannot fathom what awaits those people who are stricken with a truly catastrophic illness. Their lifetime maximum may be reached in less than a year.
I just cannot understand an argument against national health insurance. I must assume those who argue against it either have a vested interest in the current debacle or they are completely ill-informed.
If I were truly a liberal, I'd be against this national health insurance. I'd want things to continue as they are. I'd see all these people getting care and hard working folks paying for it with increased insurance premiums. I would not want to have to participate in a health insurance plan and pay to the best of my ability.
It's all backwards, as usual.
Long ago, the underwriters would sit around sipping coffee at Lloyd's in London. I was just a baby then and don't remember the details. It seems a shipper would plan a voyage across the seas. There were uncharted reefs and terrific storms. Maybe his ship would make it out and back, maybe not. Since ships cost a lot of money, not to mention the cargo, the shipper would go to the coffee house and talk to the underwriters. They had a chalkboard. They would write the details of the voyage on the board. Then, a large group would get together. The larger the group, the more the risk was diluted. The shipper paid the underwriters some money. In return, the underwriters agreed to share the expenses if the ship were lost. This practice is about as basic a form of capitalism as you can find.
Right now, the folks the conservatives deride do not pay. We who do have insurance pay for them. They get substandard care which prolongs their illness and increases costs. The provider passes the costs on by charging the rest of us more. The only people I can see that have a vested interest in continuing the present system are the providers.
I have read about union folks showing up at town hall meetings. Unions are supposed to be bad. The most powerful union in this country is the AMA. When they show up, you won't be able to get into the parking lot for all the Beamers and Benzes.
All doctors should be required to perform six years of compulsory service in the U.S Public Health Service. In return, they could get part of their fabled student loans forgiven. They get a lot of good experience, to boot.
Anyone who has read my previous posts knows my wife has a Stage IV cancer. They also know it went undiagnosed for at least ten years despite regular checkups and a litany of complaints and symptoms. Her treatments now cost over one hundred thousand dollars a year. We are fortunate that we have health insurance which is, coincidentally, overseen by the Federal government. We cannot be dropped and there is no lifetime max. Hopefully, that will not change, although there are no guarantees in life. I cannot fathom what awaits those people who are stricken with a truly catastrophic illness. Their lifetime maximum may be reached in less than a year.
I just cannot understand an argument against national health insurance. I must assume those who argue against it either have a vested interest in the current debacle or they are completely ill-informed.
If I were truly a liberal, I'd be against this national health insurance. I'd want things to continue as they are. I'd see all these people getting care and hard working folks paying for it with increased insurance premiums. I would not want to have to participate in a health insurance plan and pay to the best of my ability.
It's all backwards, as usual.
Friday, July 10, 2009
One of Us Is Insane, Sigmund
My regular doc thought it would be a good idea for me to see one of his psychiatrist buddies. I've been on anti-depressant meds for a long time and it just seemed like a good idea to check it out. The guy is at a med school, so we were joined by a couple of residents, fresh out of Pampers, it appeared to me.
He asked me about my education and job history by way of psychological history. The conversation worked its way to the fact that I was fired from the Feds for filing a reverse discrimination complaint. I explained that my attorney negotiated the deal to a retirement in return for not going to court and exposing the documentary evidence which would have given me a very good case. The residents were aghast! I explained that I had documents that the proved the Feds had systems in place to be sure white males got fewer promotions and awards than did other statistical groups. When I threatened to make the documents public in court, I was offered a settlement.
You could tell the residents were pretty upset, all the while working hard to maintain their "bedside manner". One of them complimented me on my language skills, a phrase which I interpreted as an accusation of severe spin doctoring. Guilty, I guess. I got my side; the Feds have theirs. If you believe the Feds about anything, you deserve the mess you get.
I had them in stitches when I described that my Vocational Rehab counselor got pretty upset upon hearing my opinion of Affirmative Action. It may have had something to do with the fact that he was confined to a wheel chair.
Affirmative Action is racism. And, Mr. President, opposition to it is a big deal and should be a big deal. Racism is wrong, no matter who engages in it. The fact that Affirmative Action is government sponsored racism makes it no less malignant.
Apologists who argue that Affirmative Action must be practiced to correct past wrongs sound to me a lot like Dick Cheney justifying waterboarding. Rather than violate the basic human rights of innocent human beings, find the people who committed the past illegal acts and prosecute them.
We come to the Supreme Court case of the firefighters who worked hard to score well enough on a test to earn promotion. Justice Ginsburg in her dissent said,
Yet Justice Ginsburg has also made some other rather stupid comments in a less formal setting.
I submit these statements as proof positive that the seat of our national government should be relocated to Benkelman, Nebraska. Further, all elected and appointed officials should be made to walk the entire way. Those that can't or don't make the journey have to get real jobs.
Look for it immediately after my coronation.
He asked me about my education and job history by way of psychological history. The conversation worked its way to the fact that I was fired from the Feds for filing a reverse discrimination complaint. I explained that my attorney negotiated the deal to a retirement in return for not going to court and exposing the documentary evidence which would have given me a very good case. The residents were aghast! I explained that I had documents that the proved the Feds had systems in place to be sure white males got fewer promotions and awards than did other statistical groups. When I threatened to make the documents public in court, I was offered a settlement.
You could tell the residents were pretty upset, all the while working hard to maintain their "bedside manner". One of them complimented me on my language skills, a phrase which I interpreted as an accusation of severe spin doctoring. Guilty, I guess. I got my side; the Feds have theirs. If you believe the Feds about anything, you deserve the mess you get.
I had them in stitches when I described that my Vocational Rehab counselor got pretty upset upon hearing my opinion of Affirmative Action. It may have had something to do with the fact that he was confined to a wheel chair.
Affirmative Action is racism. And, Mr. President, opposition to it is a big deal and should be a big deal. Racism is wrong, no matter who engages in it. The fact that Affirmative Action is government sponsored racism makes it no less malignant.
Apologists who argue that Affirmative Action must be practiced to correct past wrongs sound to me a lot like Dick Cheney justifying waterboarding. Rather than violate the basic human rights of innocent human beings, find the people who committed the past illegal acts and prosecute them.
We come to the Supreme Court case of the firefighters who worked hard to score well enough on a test to earn promotion. Justice Ginsburg in her dissent said,
"...But they had no vested right to promotion. Nor have other persons received promotions in preference to them...."
Yet Justice Ginsburg has also made some other rather stupid comments in a less formal setting.
"Frankly, I had thought that at the time Roe was decided, there was concern about population growth and particularly growth in populations that we don’t want to have too many of."
I submit these statements as proof positive that the seat of our national government should be relocated to Benkelman, Nebraska. Further, all elected and appointed officials should be made to walk the entire way. Those that can't or don't make the journey have to get real jobs.
Look for it immediately after my coronation.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A mime is a terrible thing to waste
When I was twelve, my family moved from a working class urban setting to a rural one. The town in which I had lived was large enough to contain a lot of different faiths and ethnicities. The rural town was in the Bible Belt and was overwhelmingly Protestant. My family was one of the very few Catholic families in the county. We drove to another city in another county every Sunday morning for Mass. We were definitely an oddity. There were a couple of other Catholic kids in school. They had learned to play down their faith and blend in. Having attended parochial school and imbued with a strong pride in my faith, I had not figured this coping mechanism out.
I endured prejudice unimaginable to most people. The drill went like this. The rednecks would surround me regularly. I was asked a rhetorical question. If the Pope asked me to submit to a homosexual act, I would have to comply, wouldn't I? I say the question was rhetorical because the first couple of times I tried to explain the infallibility of the Holy Father extended to matters of faith and morals only and the point was moot anyway, I got nothing but angry stares. I was probably the only guy in seventh grade who knew what infallible meant.
It went on. Since I was available to the Pope and the Pope wasn't planning a visit to Hickville, they would take a shot, they said. We went through this three or four times until the local Neanderthal population came to understand that Irish Catholic kids knew how to fight and would beat hell out of them in a pinch. You only had to kick the crap out of one or two before the rest lost their courage.
I was left unmolested. I had a few friends who had more intelligence and sensitivity than a cockroach, only a few. One of my friends was gay. He was into theater. We were friends. The "cool" boys snickered behind my back in the school hallways, partly because I did not shun my friend, partly because I was a Papist. The night we graduated, several of the cool guys pulled my gay friend from a car and disappeared with him. I searched for him as I feared they would kill him. By the time I tracked them down, they no longer had my friend. After a little dust up, I learned where they had left him. I went to the area and found him hiding in a tree. He rode back to town with me. Soon,I left town for college and never went back.
Recently, one of my old classmates contacted me about a high school reunion. I declined to attend. The classmate did send me a brief bio on all the people they had been able to track down. I had already seen a newspaper article explaining that one of my tormentors had become the town drunk. I was surprised upon reading the notes to learn that one of the Cretins was president of an oil company. Others had achieved varying degrees of success, as well. America! What a country!
I endured prejudice unimaginable to most people. The drill went like this. The rednecks would surround me regularly. I was asked a rhetorical question. If the Pope asked me to submit to a homosexual act, I would have to comply, wouldn't I? I say the question was rhetorical because the first couple of times I tried to explain the infallibility of the Holy Father extended to matters of faith and morals only and the point was moot anyway, I got nothing but angry stares. I was probably the only guy in seventh grade who knew what infallible meant.
It went on. Since I was available to the Pope and the Pope wasn't planning a visit to Hickville, they would take a shot, they said. We went through this three or four times until the local Neanderthal population came to understand that Irish Catholic kids knew how to fight and would beat hell out of them in a pinch. You only had to kick the crap out of one or two before the rest lost their courage.
I was left unmolested. I had a few friends who had more intelligence and sensitivity than a cockroach, only a few. One of my friends was gay. He was into theater. We were friends. The "cool" boys snickered behind my back in the school hallways, partly because I did not shun my friend, partly because I was a Papist. The night we graduated, several of the cool guys pulled my gay friend from a car and disappeared with him. I searched for him as I feared they would kill him. By the time I tracked them down, they no longer had my friend. After a little dust up, I learned where they had left him. I went to the area and found him hiding in a tree. He rode back to town with me. Soon,I left town for college and never went back.
Recently, one of my old classmates contacted me about a high school reunion. I declined to attend. The classmate did send me a brief bio on all the people they had been able to track down. I had already seen a newspaper article explaining that one of my tormentors had become the town drunk. I was surprised upon reading the notes to learn that one of the Cretins was president of an oil company. Others had achieved varying degrees of success, as well. America! What a country!
Enough Already!
Dear sir/madam:
I strongly protest the blatant racism and sexism of the Job Market segment aired today, June 11, 2009. I watched the segment with great interest, since I am out of work now.
The first subject in the segment was Tico, a young Latino, apparently. We were told his name, his area of interest, and his geographical location. Clips of his resume' were shown on the screen. The cougars conducting the session spent over two minutes regaling us with Tico's accomplishments, limited though they were. They generally fawned over him.
Next came an apparent Anglo female. We learned she resides near Atlanta. We heard of her extensive experience. We saw clips of her resume' and she received constructive criticism. Again, the time allotted to her was over two minutes.
Then we met James. Unlike Tico, James had obviously taken the time to dress for the session with a suit or sports coat and tie. We heard briefly that James was a transportation engineer and we must assume he has extensive experience. Sadly, we must assume that because James was quickly cut off. We never saw his resume'. We heard no advice given to James as to how he could enhance his chances for success. We were not even told where James lives! James got less than a minute of air time on the five minute, fifteen second segment. If anything, James was made to look less employable by this dismissive interview.
James deserves an apology on the air and another chance to display his abilities. NBC needs to apologize for its racist and sexist programming and pledge to do better.
I have to date dismissed the argument that the media is some vast liberal conspiracy. I still discount the conspiracy idea because conspiracy connotes organization, which is sorely lacking in the media. I do think if you lean any more to the left, you may well fall flat on your face.
Racism and sexism are wrong, no matter who engages in the practice.
Signature
PS: My wife, a high school guidance counselor for over twenty years, wants to interject she is really sick of all the women "personalities" sitting on stools displaying their legs. She has always taught her students there is another definition of dressing for success.
I strongly protest the blatant racism and sexism of the Job Market segment aired today, June 11, 2009. I watched the segment with great interest, since I am out of work now.
The first subject in the segment was Tico, a young Latino, apparently. We were told his name, his area of interest, and his geographical location. Clips of his resume' were shown on the screen. The cougars conducting the session spent over two minutes regaling us with Tico's accomplishments, limited though they were. They generally fawned over him.
Next came an apparent Anglo female. We learned she resides near Atlanta. We heard of her extensive experience. We saw clips of her resume' and she received constructive criticism. Again, the time allotted to her was over two minutes.
Then we met James. Unlike Tico, James had obviously taken the time to dress for the session with a suit or sports coat and tie. We heard briefly that James was a transportation engineer and we must assume he has extensive experience. Sadly, we must assume that because James was quickly cut off. We never saw his resume'. We heard no advice given to James as to how he could enhance his chances for success. We were not even told where James lives! James got less than a minute of air time on the five minute, fifteen second segment. If anything, James was made to look less employable by this dismissive interview.
James deserves an apology on the air and another chance to display his abilities. NBC needs to apologize for its racist and sexist programming and pledge to do better.
I have to date dismissed the argument that the media is some vast liberal conspiracy. I still discount the conspiracy idea because conspiracy connotes organization, which is sorely lacking in the media. I do think if you lean any more to the left, you may well fall flat on your face.
Racism and sexism are wrong, no matter who engages in the practice.
Signature
PS: My wife, a high school guidance counselor for over twenty years, wants to interject she is really sick of all the women "personalities" sitting on stools displaying their legs. She has always taught her students there is another definition of dressing for success.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Remembering Past Events
As I grow old, I have thought that I have experienced things that, while not important of themselves, might nonetheless be of interest to others as time goes by.
I may have been about seventeen at the time. I lived in a very small town with one theater. It was the quintessential last picture show. It was segregated, being in the South. Black people would queue near an outside entrance to the balcony of the theater. They sat upstairs. The main floor was reserved for whites. There was no difference in accommodations to my knowledge. The place was a fire trap in every regard, upstairs and down. I recall one night when a patron sat alone a row or two in front of me. When he laughed heartily during the movie, he leaned back and the whole row fell over backwards! The row of seats was not affixed to the floor!
On this particular night, I went to the show alone. It was a hot summer night and the theater was air conditioned. While I watched the previews, a group of black men came in to the auditorium. They must have refused to sit in the balcony and demanded to be seated downstairs. About ten black men took places together in a row of seats. I should point out I knew everyone living within ten miles of the theater, because I worked in the local market and saw everybody in the county pretty often. These young men were assuredly not residents of the area.
Of course, a small group of local rednecks began to grumble. One stood up and loudly announced he would not share the auditorium with a group that he described using that vile epithet with which we are all so familiar. His minions rose and they strode out, attempting mightily to make a scene. They failed.
The rest of us watched the movie. I, for one, noted the significance of the evening but had no strong belief that I deserved to sit where others could not. I claim no sense of righteousness. It just did not seem that anyone should make a big issue about sitting in that dumpy theater, no matter where they chose to sit.
After about ten minutes, the group of black men left the theater.
I watched the rest of the movie, along with others. I remember nothing about it, simply because it was not a good movie. I then rose and went home. No one ever spoke about the event. I often attended the theater afterward. I honestly do not remember if black people came into the theater and sat downstairs after that night. Maybe they decided that they did not want to sit downstairs if they were not going to get an argument. Hopefully, they had better venues for entertainment, instead.
Dr. King was killed later in time. This was one vignette in day to day history.
I may have been about seventeen at the time. I lived in a very small town with one theater. It was the quintessential last picture show. It was segregated, being in the South. Black people would queue near an outside entrance to the balcony of the theater. They sat upstairs. The main floor was reserved for whites. There was no difference in accommodations to my knowledge. The place was a fire trap in every regard, upstairs and down. I recall one night when a patron sat alone a row or two in front of me. When he laughed heartily during the movie, he leaned back and the whole row fell over backwards! The row of seats was not affixed to the floor!
On this particular night, I went to the show alone. It was a hot summer night and the theater was air conditioned. While I watched the previews, a group of black men came in to the auditorium. They must have refused to sit in the balcony and demanded to be seated downstairs. About ten black men took places together in a row of seats. I should point out I knew everyone living within ten miles of the theater, because I worked in the local market and saw everybody in the county pretty often. These young men were assuredly not residents of the area.
Of course, a small group of local rednecks began to grumble. One stood up and loudly announced he would not share the auditorium with a group that he described using that vile epithet with which we are all so familiar. His minions rose and they strode out, attempting mightily to make a scene. They failed.
The rest of us watched the movie. I, for one, noted the significance of the evening but had no strong belief that I deserved to sit where others could not. I claim no sense of righteousness. It just did not seem that anyone should make a big issue about sitting in that dumpy theater, no matter where they chose to sit.
After about ten minutes, the group of black men left the theater.
I watched the rest of the movie, along with others. I remember nothing about it, simply because it was not a good movie. I then rose and went home. No one ever spoke about the event. I often attended the theater afterward. I honestly do not remember if black people came into the theater and sat downstairs after that night. Maybe they decided that they did not want to sit downstairs if they were not going to get an argument. Hopefully, they had better venues for entertainment, instead.
Dr. King was killed later in time. This was one vignette in day to day history.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Cabbages & Kings
Wow! A lot has happened since I last checked in. My wife's cancer is still with us, though growing slowly. We have moved from daily injections to a once a month "depot" injection administered at the doc's office. It is a kind of "slow release" treatment.
She chose a doc on the West Coast. That entails frequent flyer miles. She really likes the doc, so the trips are no problem, comparatively. She deals with this issue much better than do I. She goes hard all the time, with no regard for herself. I tend to be overly protective of her. Others who observe her clearly forget she has a serious illness. She controls the diahrrea by avoiding food. Eventually, that makes her weak. She has to stop then. The result is the occasional collapse for a few days.
While I am at it, let me chide those who are certain that cancer, or other serious illness, must be the result of some bad habit. I have been asked by acquaintances what caused her disease. If she knew, don't you think she would have changed it? She never smoked and she worked out regularly. Quite simply, bad things sometimes happen to good people. If there might be an identifiable cause, it is a teaching career in an inner city school district. Tremendous stress does wear on the body. Still, many others from many walks of life are also stricken.
Which brings me to an issue. There must be some kind of national health insurance in this country soon. My wife and I are fortunate that we have insurance. What must others do that cannot afford the treatments, which cost about seven grand a month? What must they do? They must die! As for the objections that such a move will result in long waits for service and poor care, let them try to get into M.D. Anderson in less than six months. And once they are there, I defy them to feel like anything other than one of the lowing herd. The treatment may well be effective in many cases, but it is delivered to patients en masse.
We go on.
She chose a doc on the West Coast. That entails frequent flyer miles. She really likes the doc, so the trips are no problem, comparatively. She deals with this issue much better than do I. She goes hard all the time, with no regard for herself. I tend to be overly protective of her. Others who observe her clearly forget she has a serious illness. She controls the diahrrea by avoiding food. Eventually, that makes her weak. She has to stop then. The result is the occasional collapse for a few days.
While I am at it, let me chide those who are certain that cancer, or other serious illness, must be the result of some bad habit. I have been asked by acquaintances what caused her disease. If she knew, don't you think she would have changed it? She never smoked and she worked out regularly. Quite simply, bad things sometimes happen to good people. If there might be an identifiable cause, it is a teaching career in an inner city school district. Tremendous stress does wear on the body. Still, many others from many walks of life are also stricken.
Which brings me to an issue. There must be some kind of national health insurance in this country soon. My wife and I are fortunate that we have insurance. What must others do that cannot afford the treatments, which cost about seven grand a month? What must they do? They must die! As for the objections that such a move will result in long waits for service and poor care, let them try to get into M.D. Anderson in less than six months. And once they are there, I defy them to feel like anything other than one of the lowing herd. The treatment may well be effective in many cases, but it is delivered to patients en masse.
We go on.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Politics of Cancer
We have traveled to Houston to M. D. Anderson Cancer Center. We have also been in contact with several groups consisting of patients and caregivers. They have been most helpful. It is from them that we have learned of the political aspect of the medical community and cancer treatment. These people have great knowledge of various physicians, their skills, and their approaches. However, if they candidly share this information online, they are subject to rebuke and mistreatment from the medical community! So, you get these email message posts stating simply, "Call me". At that point, a candid conversation takes place. Perhaps the next step is to meet in some dark alley way to exchange information about doctors and treatment methods. I sometimes fear we are moving toward a second Dark Ages.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)