Health-care Shmealthcare
Come Back to Me, Veronica (You Bitch)

by Conner Banks
Post Manhattan Reporter
August 13, 2009
Is P.F. Jones?

In Washington and in townhalls around the country, people are getting fired up about how to reform the American health-care system.
Everywhere you look, people of good conscience are debating the issues-
universal coverage versus rationing.
free market versus single-payer.
public option versus co-op.
On all sides, people have reasonable disagree-
Oh bullshit.
I can't write this.
I can't pretend that health-care reform would bankrupt America.
I can't pretend that Canada and England have worse health-care than America.
I can't pretend that a single-payer system is less efficient than ours.
The VA and Medicare are both single-payer, and both are far more efficient than any Health Maintenance Organization.
I can't tell you that a public option and a co-op are the same thing, because they're not.
I can't pretend that bureacrats are going to visit your grandparents to decide when they're going to die.
I've read the bills and you know what?
I can't tell you that a public option would bankrupt HMOs like our sister company, Jones Health Assurance, because that's bullshit.
I can't tell you that a public option would make your premium go up, because it wouldn't.
In fact, the competition would make HMOs lower their premiums.
You know, the premiums that doubled in the last eight years to match the HMOs' doubling profit margin.
I'm probably going to get fired for writing this, but I don't give a shit.
My life is fucked.
My wife just left me, and the only reason she didn't take the dog is I threatened to blow my brains out.
I can't believe she actually thought I had a gun.
I should get one.
I know I fucked up, but how can she just leave like that?
What happened to "'til death do us part," bitch?
Who just leaves like that?
So what if I drink and get high?
Like leaving me will stop that?
The only reason you found me with the neighbor like that was because you hadn't touched me in months.
All the shit I have to put up with at work and you couldn't even stay awake when I got home at night?
Then you cut me off for shit you found in the Visa bill, but that was all from my secretary, and she's not even my secretary any more.
Oh, fuck it.
Just fuck it.
I don't care anymore.
This won't get printed anyway- not once the copyeditors see it.
Stick a fork in me.
I'm done.


The Army of Truth
Vladimir Himler
Death Panels



  Bookmark and Share
front page about us mission statement the characters