Nothing came to me but more questions.  Satisfied that no further gastric contributions could tell the tale, I rose from the bathroom floor, shrugged unconvincingly and hit the flusher.   What a perfect way to end unseemly encounters.  Flush them. 

I proceeded to weave an unsteady trail down the hallway in the general direction of a coffee pot.  My daughter had arisen before me and FOX News was already drifting in from the other room; Bill Hemmer recounting the latest on the decision to move the admitted 911 terrorists to NYC for trial. 

And then it struck me like a wet trout. 

Why – I hadn’t been drinking the night before at all!  This was no hangover!  This was Bizarro-World 2009 (or as some call it, the Barrack Obama Presidency) — in full flower!

Recovering from the jolt of reality that had knocked coffee grounds everywhere, slipping and sliding on them I staggered into the living room to stare at the TV screen.  Yes, it was coming back to me like a recurring bad rash – the Commies had taken over as America slept.  And we were all out of 2% cortisone cream. 

As the inebriative disorientation of an Obama reality continued to blur my vision, I recounted some of the more recent national realities. 

Emergency stimulus bills – $800 billion in spending, cash-for-clunkers, tax cheat cabinet, Marxist czars, quadrupling the national debt within 10 months…and as Communist China lectures us about deficit spending and fiscal responsibility…Obama pushes hard for a socialized medicine bill that will cost taxpayers at least two trillion dollars, nationalize one-fifth of the U.S. economy, and drive insurance companies, hospitals and doctors bankrupt, leading to rationed health care and a gross decline in research and overall quality of medicine.

But I don’t want to rush to judgment.  It’s only been ten months, give the guy a chance.

Huh!!????

And in the We-don’t-rush-to-judgment category… Major Hasan’s shooting spree at Ft. Hood that left 13 dead and 30 wounded seems to have the mainstream media baffled.  It seems he must’ve been a nut.  He must’ve been tormented by fellow soldiers for his religious views.  He must’ve been a victim of the system…who simply snapped.   And we don’t want to rush to judgment that he may have been a Muslim jihadist murderer terrorist, dead square in our midst, at the largest Army base in the country…that simply wanted to kill as many Americans as possible for his jihad, for his Allah.  Gee, sure didn’t send up any red flags…even with the bitter and angry Wahabbist rantings to his fellow soldiers, his communication with a noted Muslim radical cleric, and oh yeah, his phone calls, documented by the army, to Al Qaeda!

Hmmm…how could anyone possibly have seen anything bad coming….?

And now… The people that admitted to having masterminded the destruction of the Twin Towers and murdered three thousand Americans are to be put on trial a few blocks from where the towers fell in downtown Manhattan. 

As a “Star Trek” alumnus, I am bereaved that the phrase “Beam me up, Scotty!” has been so over-used…or I’d be tempted to use it now.

The ACLU will ensure that these self-admitted terrorists’ ‘rights’ will be guarded as they’re extended every legal privilege, the same as a law-abiding citizen of the U.S.  Upon discovery it will be revealed that they were not Miranda-ized and made fully aware of their ‘rights’ when they were apprehended.  Upon discovery it will be revealed that ‘proper’ search-and-seizure methods were not used when these miscreants were arrested.  Wire-tapping may have been used that the ACLU will have a problem with.  Three of these fellows were strapped to a board and had water poured over their faces, convincing them that they were in danger of drowning – all in a very successful attempt to procure valuable information that may have saved thousands of more lives of Americans.

And the CIA, the FBI, George W. Bush and the entire U.S. Military will be put on trial for the court of world opinion to evaluate – a years-long, hundred-million dollar dog-and-pony show of a trial for the America-hating Leftists to rally behind.  “You see?  You see how bad we were before?  You see what Bush/Cheney/Halliburton gave you?  Well…we’re not like that anymore.  And to show you how sorry we are…we’re gonna serve up America’s autonomy and exceptionalism on a silver platter.  Everybody come take a bite — who wants white meat?”

In Bizarro-World 2009…up is down.  The good guys get prosecuted and the bad guys walk.  So how many betting men do we have out there?  Has Vegas set the odds yet?  And what’s the line and spread on these five guys walking?

In a rush to re-establish to the world our supposed, and heretofore, absent humility and global cooperation – and in the name of a misguided allegiance to some missing ‘higher good’ for humanity, we have abruptly changed direction and now champion a new banner – ‘Peace through supplication…strength through softness’.

Future Al Jazeera news headline in Arabic:  “The Pussification of America is complete.”

I suppose some will merely deem it to be the natural countermanding of Mr. Obama’s predecessor, George Bush’s ‘cowboy’ persona, in both personal style and foreign diplomacy.  Mr. Obama, in order to counterpoint Mr. Bush’s ‘cowboy swagger’ (Bush calls it “walking”), bows low to foreign heads of state – some would say grovels – and in every tone and rhetoric, apologizes to the world for our excellence and achievement. 

And, oh by the way, we’re sorry we’ve been such horrible racists – unlike you all.

But now that we’ve proven to the international community that we’re no longer racist and are suddenly all too aware that we’re the focal point and primary cause for everything bad, destructive and unstylish in the world — Europe cheers us.  How better to validate their own insistent bend into socialism?  Socialists everywhere just love us now.  Third-world despots embrace our epiphanic rush to change.  Hamas and Hezbollah smile their congratulations at our new enlightenment and willingness to abdicate our superiority of both strength and ideals — all in the name of tolerance and ‘balance’.

Enemies of America everywhere smile warmly at us…as they sharpen their daggers.

Our allies around the globe are getting nervous.  And who could blame them?  I read of Neville Chamberlain’s assurances to his countrymen in 1938 after meeting with Hitler in Munich.  He was certain he had engineered a path to peace in Europe — through appeasement.

Ronald Reagan used to speak of America as a “…shining city on a hill.”  A place of liberty and freedom and personal responsibility; a place people all over the world looked up to and emulated, and couldn’t wait to visit, and even emigrate to legally, to start a new life, a better life for themselves and their families.  He reminded us of our strengths, of our compassion, and of our unending ingenuity, drive and resourcefulness.

Ronald Reagan made us feel good about being an American.  He held us to the high standard of honesty and fiscal responsibility and individual initiative and personal accountability for our actions.  The ultimate result of these ideals was success – success, achievement and excellence, the likes of which the world had never before seen.  And something else we had: Pride in America.  There were no ‘apology tours’… no gestures of contrition… no tacit appeasement, to anyone, anywhere for any reason.  We believed in peace through strength.  And these were not empty words – they were backed by actions.  Reagan meant the words he spoke — and you could take them to the bank.  Reagan spoke of the success that we enjoyed by sticking to our ideals, American ideals.  He said it was ‘morning in America’. 

The image was of the sun coming up in the morning…and not of its setting.

Honest and ardent students of history are not just nervous – they’re alarmed.  This country we know and love, this America, is fast becoming unrecognizable to many of us.  It’s like we’ve had this big wham-jammer of a party…and now we awaken to a monstrous hangover. 

It’s the morning-after in America…only the aspirin bottle is three years away.

How can you tell when they’re lying?    Their lips are moving.

They think you’re stupid.   It’s understandable that they should think that, because though they may on occasion listen to you, they never really hear you.  Hence, the only frame of reference for feedback on their incredibly absurd redistributive ideas, tax-and-spend proposals and unprecedented treasury-busting health care take-over bills…comes from their own constituents, the Democrats.  Whoops and hollers, cheers and laughter, nods, smiles, enthusiastic ‘yes-we-cans!’… as they serve up yet another heaping portion of socialist slop you’ll be expected to grab your ankles and pay for.  They think you’re stupid.

As the entire Democratic Party has now been fully commandeered by the hard Left, I wrestle daily with the following quandary:  Are they evil?  Or merely dense? 

Anyone paying attention and not mired in self-deceit can easily see that everything the current administration and Democrat-controlled Congress is doing and attempting to do is based in Marxian principles of redistribution, government takeovers of private industry and control of the American citizenry.  And anyone with just a rudimentary knowledge of basic economic principles and merely a modicum of historical perspective can see that capitalism lifts up and advances any civilization it touches; whereas socialism degrades quality of life by enriching the government as it dis-empowers the individual.  Freedom-loving people worldwide have been battling these statist oppressors throughout the millennia.  The failure of a modern American voting populace to intellectually link the smiling promises of today’s ‘free’ lunch with the blood, death and horror of tyrants of the past is to shame us all with a new definition of national  myopia.

They’re lying to us.  A bill crafted behind closed doors, excluding participation by the opposition party, the Republicans, and rejecting all alternative ideas about health care reform like freedom to shop insurance plans interstate?   Or TORT reform,  so that doctors don’t have to practice defensive medicine?   Or how about cutting down government red tape so hospital administrators don’t have to add the cost of voluminous paperwork to medical bills, and pairing back excessive government regulations so that hospitals and doctors can drive down costs through healthy competition?   But Steny Hoyer called it an open and transparent process.   Right.

Timothy Geithner is asking the government for more control over the Fed.  That’s certainly comforting.  His answer to current economic woes is to borrow more hundreds of billions from China…and print more money.  But – if they’re printing billions and billions of more dollars, doesn’t it make the dollars already in my hand…worth… less?  Uh…yeah.   And just wait until next year when the banks start to put these newly printed dollars into circulation.  And gold shoots sky high and the dollar plummets.  Then the fun begins…

They’re stealing from you.

Not only are they working around the clock to shore up their losses and lunatic-lefty programs, but they are preparing to raise your taxes through the roof.  Some of them will be hidden ‘fees.’ (Watch for them to pop up like measles spots when the virus begins.)  Some of them will be overt, you’ll be able to see them, at least for the ‘wealthy’ – you know, anyone earning over 100K.  But once inflation kicks in, pretty soon that will be the greater majority of us.  And they’ll expect us to be happy we’re earning so much.  And never mind the fact that those dollars we’re earning are becoming ever-increasingly worthless, and our standard of living is starting to tank.  Shortages, rationing, loss of services…   Anyone remember the long lines at the gas stations in the Carter years?  Odd-and-Even days to fill up?  Fist fights at the pumps…station owners wearing side-arms?

But our leader smiles endearingly and promises us that it will all work out.  After all, there is a beautiful rainbow in the sky and if we just follow his dream for America we will find at the end of it (after eight short years)…a pot of gold.  We merely have to Believe.  Just close our eyes, stare at his picture, click our heels three times and the Leprechaun in Chief will deliver us a pot of gold.

As the media and the Marxists march us to the edge of the bottomless pit of total government control of our wealth, our businesses, our property…our very lives…(some call this tyranny)…we are left with this question about our current leaders:   Are they evil…or merely stupid?   Or both?

And more importantly…what are you going to do about it?

Help me along — I am apparently a bit slow.  Something is ‘art’ if the ‘artist’ says it is art.  Even if the viewer of said art is highly offended and appalled by this so-called art.  Then it’s his or her problem… get over it…go back to Wasilla and blow up a moose. 

But should you dare suggest that it might not be the best use of public funds to bankroll exhibitions that the majority of Americans consider to be highly offensive and even pornographic —  well…then you obviously must be a hate-filled, intolerant, racist homophobe, and you are to be minimalized as a right-wing fringe kook. 

Oh, I see…  The artist is to be given free latitude to explore the limits of his or her creativity without the stifling puritan sensibilities that close-minded conservative crackpots constantly try to place upon them.  After all, the ‘artist’ is above reproach.  The artist resides in the ivory tower of high aspirations, dontcha know.   They lift mankind up to a loftier vision of the possibilities of man, careless of where their heightened genius will take them.  They’re only the messenger of this Higher Vision that chooses none but the special people, (like themselves, the artiste), through which to speak to the world.  And they don’t want money for their genius contributions to the betterment of society, oh no.  (Or so they proclaim…as they lobby for and receive huge government grants and subsidies for their ‘art’.)

They are the self-Chosen Ones…smarter, more enlightened, brimming with brightness, and sweeter smelling than the rest of us mere mortals.  They deign to move about and amongst us, only by their generous beneficence.  They and they alone are the true Givers in our sad and squalid society.  They are the signposts that point us in the correct direction as we silly little peons putter about our sad, pathetic lives, hoping beyond hope that we can actually get along without their inspired and beatific counseling.  They have built crystalline cathedrals of ego dedicated to their shining self images of magnificence and human exaltation, their exaltation and nobility of … The Artist.

I love it.  You don’t have to go to school.  You don’t have to gain a degree.  You don’t have to work for any length of time at anything, really.  All you have to do to be an artist…is call yourself an ‘artist’.  I could glue some petrified dog-poo to a board, swipe it with blue spray paint, hold it up high — and some doodle-weed would call it ‘art’.

Which is fine!  I have no problem with that.  Throw monkey snot on the wall, frame it and call it whatever you want.  Just don’t make John Q. Public to pay for it! 

FTS!  

Having been a member of the film community for over thirty years…and considered by a few (close family members) to be somewhat of an actual ‘artist’ myself, I speak with a modicum of authority on this issue.  The level of merit (or the lack thereof) of my particular brand of ‘art’ is a debate for another time.  Suffice it to say that I have been firmly ensconced in the Los Angeles artistic community for the better part of my life… and I know a few things.

First off – there’s a ton of bullshit calling itself art out there.

I know – I’ve made a lot of it.  And the copious amounts of energy propping up the “it’s art!” illusion…well…that’s a whole industry unto itself.   And that rubs us up against one favorite saying of mine; in fact I think I coined it:  “Just because you say it’s ‘art’ – don’t mean dick.”

Now… I apologize for that.  Not for the vulgarity, but for the poor grammar.  (But it’s funnier with poor grammar, so there it is.)

And let me say that I have nothing against art, or even the worldwide community of artists.  In fact, I am a great lover of art.  But I’m also realistic enough to accept that my definition of what art is and what it is not and your definition of same are very likely, at the end of the day, quite different.  We will probably agree on some — and vehemently come to odds over others.  Because no two tastes are alike.  What is art to me might be dog-poo to you.  And vice versa.  That’s cool, to each his own.

And in a free market, this works out just fine.  The struggling artist on the sidewalk displays his wares — and as I walk by, my eye catches a particular painting that speaks to me.  I am drawn closer and stare at it in fascination.  Something about the texture in his brush strokes, or how he played with the light glinting off the ocean…or the posture of the old woman, say, and how it spoke to me of human resiliency and hope…and suddenly I had to have the painting.  We strike a quick bargain; the artist receives my cash happily and I walk away with a piece of art that moves me in some positive way.

Or I’ll be spending a lovely day at Venice Beach, having lunch at my favorite sidewalk café …and a street performer will suddenly break into a hilariously annoying comedy mime act, preying on hapless passersby, to everyone’s delight and amusement.   He charmingly passes the hat, collects his tips, makes us laugh some more and we are literally throwing cash at him, so grateful for the brief show.  His performance art was offered freely, and we enjoyed it, and many of us chose to support his craft and give him money.  This talented street artist cleans up, and everyone walks away happy.

The above scenarios happen to me all the time.  And this is how art is supported in a free and rational society.  Voluntarily.   By free choice.

It is not a free and rational act to form an institution that hires ‘artists’ of varying degrees of talent (and possibly dubious and questionable motives), paid for by dollars taken from taxpayers who have no say as how those dollars are spent.

One word:  Maplethorpe. 

Not to speak ill of the departed, but it wasn’t just homo-erotica and such exhibits, which included photos of bullwhips inserted in a man’s anus (all funded by the National Endowment for the Arts), that brought this ‘artist’ to fame; it was also a quaint little speciality called ‘Coprophagia — in which he displayed photographs of various insects consuming animal feces. 

Lovely.  Your hard-earned tax dollars at work.  (Hey – Art happens!)

And you know what?  I don’t even have a problem with people calling that ‘art’.  If they want to pay for photographs of flies eating poo, fine.  Not a problem.

But when you and I and my friends and neighbors are forced to pay for that — then I have a huge problem with it!

Art is probably the most subjective form of human expression imaginable, and as such — Art should not be subsidized by the government.  Either art is free – or it’s a business.  And if it’s a business, it should be run like a business, in which goods and/or services are offered in a free market and citizens have the option of purchasing said goods and services – or walking away.   This is just common sense; and I can hardly believe in this supposed age of enlightenment that this is even a controversial notion.

Art is a business.  And government has no business forcing us to pay for any of that business.

It had to happen, it was inevitable, I suppose.  She slid past us with her, “For the first time, I am proud to be an American” proclamation…and we even looked the other way when she and her husband spent hundreds of thousands of taxpayer dollars on a fun-filled New York City getaway of Broadways shows, dining and shopping.  (Sure, they may have used their own personal cash, but I doubt they ponied up out-of-pocket for the myriad of security vehicles, the legion of secret service agents, the bomb-sniffing dogs, etc, etc.

So, in a carefully publicized and orchestrated publicity event, the First Lady last week launched a full contingent of security, including three dozen D.C. police vehicles;  they had closed H Street, Vermont Avenue, two lanes of I Street, plus an entrance to the McPherson Square Metro station. Security had swept the area, in front of the Department of Veterans Affairs, with bomb-sniffing dogs.  They had installed magnetometers in the middle of the street, put up barricades to keep pedestrians out, and took positions with binoculars atop trucks.   There was press and interpreters for the hearing-impaired — and with over 100 viewers in tow, Michelle Obama went and did her own shopping. 

Why – she’s just like you or me!  She’s a Woman of the People.  

But hey – her husband is the Prez of the U.S., for god’s sake.  Give him his due; he’s earned a few perks.  However, it occurs to me as odd that the same people who tell us that we are killing our planet because of Global Warming (or Climate Change if you like), and that we must ‘reduce our carbon footprints’, blissfully take a small army of heavily armor-plated SUV’s out to buy a food item that one of their employee’s could have procured riding a bicycle to the local Whole Foods.  Tuscan kale.  (I had to look up just what Tuscan kale was.  It’s like a cabbage or lettuce.)  I would love to have seen behind the no-doubt stoic and professional eyes of the lead security agent as Mrs. Obama announced to him (or her) that they were about to mobilize the full arm of White House Security and go on a merry jaunt across town to buy some lettuce. 

I suppose this is all just part and parcel with Michelle Obama’s newfound pride in being an American.  And aren’t we taxpayers generous?  Hmm.  That’s probably not the right word.

Lest we forget, by their own words, the economy is in a shambles, and people are suffering and struggling like never before.   Yet the Obama’s have no problem grinding up our tax money for hundreds of security personnel on fun little luxuries like a shopping spree to buy Tuscan kale?   Normal lettuce like you or I would buy just won’t do.  No, it had to be the finest, most expensive and rare certified organic lettuce, at $20/lb, imported Tuscan kale from Italy.  But she’s a ‘woman of the people’, dontcha know.  She can relate to the little guy. 

But no one can scream the H-word.  That would be beating up on the girl!  (H-word…  think ‘hip’– and rhymes with Democracy)

I don’t know what the price tag to taxpayers is for this lovely little publicity and image enhancement stunt, but I shouldn’t belabor it too much; because the President is engaged in one of his own as of this writing.  He is flying in to New York to tape an appearance on the David Letterman show.  This is the Obama’s answer to sagging poll numbers – go back in to campaign mode, fly high on the thin air the cult of personality lends you.  Although, the fact is that President Obama never came out of campaign mode.  He lets his radical friends from the ultra Left write legislation that he doesn’t even read, much less understand; then hit’s the airwaves and tries to sell it to the American public.  He’s like a high-end Carney barker.  The circus performers create the acts and he gets out there and smiles and charms and hawks their wares. 

I’m not saying he’s not good.  Oh, he’s good.  He’s verrrry good.   And that should scare the hell out of all of us.

If you’re like me, you grew pretty irritated at hearing the daily litany of all the supposed abuses of power the Bushes and the Cheney’s inflicted upon us.  But the previous administration looks like Mennonite penny-pinchers compared to this new group.   A couple trillion bucks defecit…and pretty soon you’re talking real money!

I suppose it’s the New Way.  This must be that Change we kept hearing about.  It’s the Culture of Entitlement.  And oh what fun it is to spend Other People’s Money.    Who would have thought it could be this much fun being the First Lady?  I suppose it’s like being Queen.  No one says ‘No’ to you.  There are only ‘Yes’ people wherever you turn.  “Yes, Madame First Lady, that’s a great idea.  Yes, Madame First Lady, we can take off and shop for Tuscan kale.  Yes, Yes, Yes we can… do whatever we want!”

“We won.”

I heard about the Tuscan kale caper and I couldn’t help recalling some history…and thinking about another First Lady of sorts, Marie Antoinette.  She had a bad public relations problem at the time that, in the fervor and unforgiving tumult of the French Revolution, ended up costing her her head.  When asked what the poor peasants should eat if there isn’t enough food, the elitist and arrogant woman answered simply, “Let them eat cake.”  As cake at the time was a luxury only afforded the wealthy, this was a public snub of the haughtiest of natures.  

“Let them eat kale,” is a phrase I know I would never hear from the lips of the striking First Lady.  But still, all in all…she does seem to have the haughty down.

Nearly three thousand souls perished.  Not combatants on a battlefield, but average everyday citizens like you and me, starting their days like any other, working to earn a living to feed their families.  Along with them were hundreds of valiant firemen and policemen rushing in to the buildings to save lives. 

The images of those New Yorkers the next few days wandering the streets around Ground Zero with pictures of their missing loved ones, hoping beyond hope that perhaps it was a simple bump on the head and temporary amnesia that kept them from phoning home to tell them they were okay…  These thoughts suck the wind from my soul. 

Like most Americans, I was profoundly moved and shaken that fateful morning; and I knew instantly that our lives as Americans were forever changed.  The surreal unfolding of events took me from shock to horror…to fury.  I remember calling the Marine recruiter the next morning and asking where I go to enlist.  He asked a few questions, and then informed me I was too old by two years to join the military.  ‘But I’m a wonderful hand with a rifle,’ I argued, ‘versed in everything from pistol to shotgun to rifle to machine gun.  I’m your boy (okay I’m not quite a boy), but trust me, you guys want me on your front lines.’  The answer remained a polite but firm ‘No thank you, sir’.   So I sat helplessly like so many millions of us — glued to the TV screen, hoping for some positive news, praying something good to come from this horror.

I remember that anger, that blind rage, that boiling fury I held deep in my bowels that day.  But when John Nolte asked me to write something about 911…I couldn’t think of a thing to say.  I, like so many Americans, had pretty much forgotten that awful day.  Oh sure, I remembered the images, the newscasts, …the movie, ‘United 93,’…but I really had to struggle to remember what I was going through, what we as a nation were going through on September 11, 2001.  And I know I’m not alone.

How can that be?  How could we have let one singular event that reshaped an entire foreign policy, altered a national zeitgeist, and changed the very way we view the world…how could we have let that memory dim?   Is our selective memory just a survival mechanism that chooses to dwell on the happy and pleasant and let the trauma and terrors of life fade into a merciful fog; like a flesh wound that hardens and clots, then forms a thick, crusty scab, only to fade eventually leaving scarcely a mark?

There are some, of course, who don’t want anyone to remember 9/11.  The reasons they would obfuscate the meaning and redirect the focus of the attack are varied and insidious, and they are the topic of a different essay.  Here I will simply take a few moments to register my reflections on the real meaning of 9/11.

We have been attacked, we suffered a grievous loss of humanity, and we are at war.  Here, in America, we are under assault.  We have vicious enemies abroad…and determined enemies here among us.  People who want to destroy the America we cherish so dearly, and for whom so many brave souls have made the ultimate sacrifice. 

They hate us because we’re rich.  They hate us because we’re exceptional.  And they hate us most of all…because we’re good.  We’re by no means perfect, but more often than not, we do the right thing.  We defend innocent life.  We oppose tyranny.  We offer aid and support to disaster victims.  We give in vast abundance, more than any other nation has done since the dawn of time.  But most importantly… we offer the world that ‘shining city on a hill’ image that President Regan so famously coined, to serve as the model to liberty-loving people worldwide…and a beacon to draw them nigh.

The Islamic fascists who hate us and wish us ill?   They want us to suddenly alter our lifestyles, throw ourselves on our knees, pray to Allah and accept Sharia law.   They want us to atone for our past ‘sins’ as a nation and pay penance for the ‘evils’ we have perpetrated upon the world.  They want to change America.

As the events of 9/11 taught us…. Not all change is good change.  There are many enemies to our great nation – from without and within.  They hate America and want to re-fashion it into their concept of utopia.  

God grant us the wisdom to tell friend from foe! 

Do you hear the pounding of the drum yet?   It’s your neighbors, your friends, the grocers, the trucker, the doctors, the businessmen, the students, the citizens of this great country…Americans like you –  speaking out, by the tens of millions, shouting in a unified and deafening, resounding cry… This is our country!  This is America, dammit!!  

Stand up for what America is.  And don’t let anyone sell you what America is not.

FADE IN:

Biggo slips quietly into the ornate den. Seagulls can be heard amidst the distant crash of waves. Three security men stand about the room, in attentive, professional bearing.  A silver-haired, bloated old man lies on the couch

Biggo enters the room and sits in a chair beside the couch.  He smiles at the man.

Biggo – “Bunky…so wonderful to see you.”

Bunky – “And so great to see you, sir.”

Biggo - “How are you feeling, my old friend?”

Bunky – “Never better.  Feel on top of the world.”

Biggo – “Your health is my only concern.” 

Bunky – “I wish I’d known you were coming, I would have made a pitcher of margueritas.  There’s some delicious port here…or would you like a scotch?”

Biggo – “No time for that, Bunky, I’ve got to get back.  Nobody knows I’m here.  I just wanted to spend some time with The Lion, spend some time with my friend…and talk.”

Bunky – “You do me honor, sir.”

Biggo – “Well, Bunky…funny you should say that.  Because I have an idea how you can do me a great honor.”

Bunky – “Really?  Do you an honor?  Just name it, sir.”

Biggo – “As you know…I’ve been having a hell of a time convincing the Amercian people that they need my health care bill…”

Bunky – “Those damn Nazi right wingers.  Hate speech!  We’ve got to silence them.”

Biggo - “And I know you’ve been championing the cause for many years…”

Bunky – “My doctors are the finest in the world.  I should’ve been dead decades ago with my liver.  Ha!  Wouldn’t it be great if the American people had the same sort of medical care us Senators enjoy?”

Biggo – “Don’t even joke about that, Bunky.”

Bunky – “Oh, yeah, right.  Sorry.”

Biggo – “Seriously, I’ve got enough trouble sellin’ this damn thing.”

Bunky – “Sir, I’ve fought hard to bring National Health Care to the people.  They think they don’t want it, but they really do.  I know they do.  They’re just…confused into thinking that they don’t want it.  We have to find a way to shove it down their…I mean, we need to convince them…that they’ll be better off with us in total control.”

Biggo smiles broadly.  Bunky has to squint from the dazzling glare.

Biggo – “That’s what I came over to talk to you about.  You know…your own health has been declining rapidly…”

Bunky – “Oh, I’m feeling great these days.  Really, feeling much stronger.  Watch, I can do pushups…”

Biggo – “No, no…that’s cute, but…you’re really going downhill fast.  It’s a crisis.  I’ve had several End-of-Life conversations with your doctors.  Hate to say it, Bunk, but you’re fast-approaching room temperature.”

Bunky – “What?  No… It is a little breezy in here, but… I’m strong as an ox.  We’re gonna play touch football this afternoon.”

Biggo – “You’re a brave fighter, Senator.  But get real — you’re pretty much toast.”

Bunky - “Pulse is strong, I’m regular, I’m whitening my teeth…”

Biggo chuckles good-naturedly and leans forward.  He gestures enthusiastically, suddenly energized with an exciting new plan of hope and change.

Biggo – As you know, Bunky, we don’t believe in letting a crisis go to waste.  A crisis lets you do things you thought you otherwise could not do.  Like passing this monster of a bill.  Now, here’s where you can be of great service to me…as well as your country.”

Bunky – “I feel like jogging.  Who’s up for a jog along the beach?”

Biggo – “You’re really not fooling anyone, you know.”

Bunky – “I’m feeling spunky.”

Biggo – ” ‘Spunky Bunky’ …ha, ha, you’re killin’ me.  But seriously.  This is critical for my bill.  If we can get a boost in the polls…I can convince the blue dogs to put us over the top.  It will take something big, though.  It will take something that can pull at their heartstrings.”

Bunky - “Toss a ball around?   Maybe a quick game of Frisbee?”

Biggo – “Bunk… This has been your cause.  You’ve been the one pushing for this for years!  If you were to suddenly…I don’t know, just off the top of my head….uh…expire…”

Bunky – “Expire?  You mean…?”

Biggo – “Think of it.  You’d be a legend.  The press coverage for days, endlessly touting your…uh…well, they’d underscore your…ummm….good intentions.”

Bunky – “I have had good intentions.”

Biggo – “Of course you have.  And you’ve had the name.  That famous name.  The legacy.  And now…if you do this one small thing…you’ll have…the Legend.”

Bunky – “The Legend.  Yes.  And… the press coverage…”

Biggo – “Endlessly spectacular.  The weeping…the mourning as the cortege passes by in Hyannis Port …the haunting dirge as the caissons  go rolling along…  Catholic Bishops will speak…I will give a grand tribute…children will sing…oh, the tears and the sweet national sadness…  It will be epic.”

Bunky – “The people love me…”

Biggo – “And the Senators will take up a new battle cry for health care:  “Let’s do it…for Bunky!”

Bunky – “Yeah… do it for… Bunky…”

Biggo – “I’ll name the bill after you!  The biggest expenditure of funds ever approved in our history.  The largest act of government ever passed…and your name will be on it.”

Bunky – “Ohhhh….aaahh…really?   My… name on it?”

Biggo - “You’re my brave soldier.”

Bunky – “I…I don’t know what to say, sir…”

Biggo looks up and nods to one of the security men, who picks up a black bag and steps forward.

Biggo – “Don’t say anything, my friend.   Just go to sleep.  And dream of my legacy… er, I mean your legacy.  Dream of your legacy.”

Bunky – “You sure I can’t get you a scotch?”

Biggo – “No time, Bunky.  I have to get back, my girls wanna go to… Moshup Beach, I think it’s called.”

Bunky – “Do you know that’s a nude beach, sir?”

Biggo – “It is?  Huh.   (thinks a moment)   Coolio.”

Bunky – “You’re not going to use a pillow, are you?  Don’t use a pillow, I hate that.  It would feel like…drowning.”

Biggo – “No, no…I like the karmic symmetry, but no.  We’re more elegant than that.  It’ll be just like going to sleep.”

Biggo pats Bunky on the hand and stands to leave as the security men approach the old man on the couch.

Bunky – “One last thing last thing, sir?”

Biggo – “Yes?”

Bunky — “Why… do you call me Bunky?”

Biggo laughs endearingly. 

Biggo – “Cuz you’re my brave soldier!  I call all my brave soldiers Bunky.  My grandma, that typical white woman, I called her Bunky.   I needed a boost two days before the election and – boom.  Ahhh…..  What a good sport she was.   (sighs)  …ol’ Bunky Gram…”

Biggo pauses to wipe his eye…then turns to the door.

Bunky – “Wait a second, wait a second…  Uh. Uh…  A quick bike ride before you go?”

Biggo – “Dignity, Bunky.  Remember – a national health care bill…named after you.”

Biggo winks endearingly and leaves.   Bunky settle back, smiles.  Closes his eyes. 

The men moved in…

Bunky - “Yeah…Do it for Bunky.  The Bunky Bill.   The…Bunky…Bill…  Bunk…eeee…

FADE OUT

We have been hearing a lot lately about a key ingredient to the President’s proposed National Health Care bill – the ‘public option.’ Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi stated adamantly in the press last week that passing a health care bill without a public option…is not an option.

Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it almost sounded like a threat.

This appears to be the lynch-pin for the president’s proposed health care package.  And though Health & Human Services Secretary Sebelius hinted that the administration was not necessarily married to the notion of the public option, she swiftly recanted her statement after having returned from the woodshed.   Apparently annoyed that people were actually paying attention to administration members’ statements, and under the cover of self-righteous snark, Ms. Sebelius flung a swipe at the media with, “…must’ve been a slow news day,” and proclaimed that there was no change in the president’s policy.  The public option was still prominently a part of the plan.  We were obviously brainless douchebags for thinking otherwise.

I must pause here a moment for I am lost in blissful reverie, picturing that closed-door damage-control conversation between Rahm Emanuel and David Axelrod.

What would a giggling fly on the wall sound like?

I amuse myself to distraction daily listening to White House press briefings and counting the new phraseology emanating from the President’s hapless mouthpiece, Robert Gibbs. I think I read somewhere that Mr. Gibbs’ prior position before the White House gig was as spokesman for Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, but I may be mistaken; check me on that.  One thing is certain; this administration is chock full of clever little word craftsmen.  Want to gain favor with the lefties in your party?  Rename War on Terror as Overseas Contingency Operation.  Suspected terrorists are now innocent detainees, in bad need of taxpayer-funded Caribbean vacations.  A catastrophic and irresponsibly monstrous spending orgy by a new Democrat administration is termed a ‘massive debt inherited from Bush.’

And socialism is called The Public Option.

Hey, if I didn’t know better, I’d think…yeah, that sounds pretty good.  Options…that means choice, right?  And choice is good, yeah?  (Except of course if it’s choice for parents to determine where to send their kids to school, then choice is bad!  Man, it’s hard to keep up.)

It’s such an innocuous term – Public Option.  Sounds non-threatening, and so very enlightened.  Like Affirmative Action.  So positive and..well, affirmative.  Yes. Yes, Affirmative, YesssssssWeeeeeCaaaaaaanadian.

I just listened to an orthopedic surgeon from British Columbia tell Bill O’Reilly, that the problem with the Canadian health system is access.  Too many people wanting treatment and too few doctors.  And that’s in a population of 30 million.  What will our system look like with this single-payer set-up in our population of ten times that of Canada?

Yet the President and the Speaker of the House are telling us daily that a single-payer system will provide better service for all and drive down costs.

Now…I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know when someone’s talking out their butt.

As a pre-med dropout who bailed from pursuing a medical career largely because I was warned about an ever-increasing government intrusion into the medical industry, I must ask you:  What will motivate a young, bright college student to apply to medical school?

Altruism?

I would venture the following advice to anyone who would like to get a clear idea of what is the best way to proceed with improving our health care system:  Ask the doctors.  Ask the medical personnel.  Ask the hospital administrators.  Ask the nurses.  Hell, ask the patients!  Ask the people who are most affected by this proposed catastrophe of a bill.  Ask the senior citizens, who will be most immediately affected. The answer comes back nearly unanimous: They hate this bill.

Those who don’t live in gingerbread dreams and marmalade skies know what this bill portends – with its massive spending, bloating of the federal bureaucracy, and turning one-sixth of the American economy over to the federal government.  It means massive disorganization, massive waste of resources, fewer doctors willing to put up with an ineffective needlessly convoluted system, with less competition for goods and services, hence poorer quality, and ultimately — less personal control of your own life.

But the President says he’ll ‘let you retain your own health care insurance.’ Isn’t that nice of him? He’ll let us keep something that we already pay for, that is ours.  So magnanimous of him.

It is useful to occasionally ask yourself the question….who works for whom?

Everyone like magic? Watch closely; for sleight of hand can turn a leader into a jailer. Don’t blink. They say ‘trust me, it will all be fine.’ And yet they admitted this week that they had underestimated their projected 10-year deficit by 1.9 TRILLION DOLLARS.  ‘Oops,’ they said.  ‘My bad.’

Yeah…and all of us right-wing nut jobs getting all worked up.  Like a couple trillion dollars of debt to our kids and grandkids is any kind of big deal.

The problems with our health care system is that we’ve got too much government involved in it, not too little.  Endless debates over ‘whether we can afford it’ are moot.  A watered down version of a bad bill is still a bad bill and needs to be killed dead.

Socialism-light…is still socialism.

I’m not hoarse anymore.  I’ve spent the past nine months or so screaming at the top of my lungs — fun things like, ‘The emperor has no clothes!’ and ‘He’s a socialist community organizer and Saul Alinsky acolyte!’  and ‘No he can’t, he really really REALLY can’t!’ The police have been called to my house only twice, something about a public disturbance, but in the end the neighbors sort of just got used to it.  (Like living close to the train tracks. After a while you don’t even hear it anymore.) And I did get to engage in a couple of protracted socio-political discussions with my local gens d’arms, and though unamused, they both times let a simple admonishment suffice. (And here’s a shout-out to Harvard Professor Gates: the key element here is that at no time did I mention anything about either officers’ mother.  Just an FYI.)

But I don’t scream anymore. Though it did serve to stimulate my circulatory system, gave me a good cardio workout, and also raised my singing voice four octaves.  (I’m a baritone, but can now sing Stevie Winwood, and for that I’m grateful to Obama.)  But I must say this; with what I’ve seen come out of this administration the past seven months…I wouldn’t trust them to run my kid’s lemonade stand, much less the heretofore uncontested best damn health care system in the whole freakin’ world.

Cash for clunkers?

In today’s non-logic of destroying a perfectly good used car so you can trade it in for $4,500 of taxpayer’s money…I’m wondering what would be the clunker trade-in value for one grossly inexperienced and vastly overrated community organizer?

…reporting live on this historic occasion.  A crisis of epic proportions may have been averted…by an invitation from the White House to simply sit down …and have a beer.  This creatively innovative and charmingly elegant President has thrown the old book out and is writing his own.  It’s the audacity of hope and change we can believe in.  It’s a new deal and a new dawning of how business gets done today – over beers.  It has been hinted by White House sources that if today’s summit goes well, possibly other summits may be in the offing.  My source in the Administration said a possible Vodka Fest with Vladimir Putin, a Hookah Pipe Sit-Down with Ahmadinejad, and even a Sake/Mao-tai/RiceCake pow wow with Kim Jong-Il are being floated as of this broadcast with the State Department, Keith Olbermann and Oprah Winfrey.

And now, the President’s helicopter has landed.  The President’s contingent of roughly three thousand security personnel are assuming their perimeters, extension perimeters and contingency perimeters.

Sgt. Crowley and Professor Gates await the President beside the picnic table arranged for this seminal benchmark in race relations in America.

The beer is on ice – a large keg bearing the Presidential Seal.

And finally, President Obama emerges from the helicopter… now he salutes the Marine guard… and, following his entourage of executive security, walks through the park and approaches the bench.  The President’s gate appears regal…yet relaxed.

Now Professor Gates walks forward to greet him.  The President takes his hand… bows down to him, as is the President’s custom…and now… they…they seem to be doing an extensive ‘brother’ handshake and shoulder bump.  Now a hip bump…both sides…and the booty wiggle and strut…fist bumps and finger snaps…crotch grab, that’s a new one…and finally they seem to be done.

And now the President turns to Sgt. Gates and offers a formal handshake.  Could that be construed as a ‘white-man’s handshake’?  You make the call.  And now…the President is saying something to Sgt. Crowley…he’s apparently impressed Crowley showed up with his own beer.  Let’s see if we can get a boom mic in to hear…

Sgt. Crowley – “…and I don’t know, sir…my mom always told me ‘never show up to a party empty-handed,’ so…

The President laughs and claps him on the back.

President Obama – “Classic!  Could you be any whiter?”

Sgt. Crowley – “Ha ha..well…blame it on my mom.”

Prof. Gates – “Yo Mama.”

Sgt. Crowley – “Yes, that’s right.”

Prof. Gates – “Budweiser.  Fool didn’t even bring Stella Artois.  You show up with Bud.  You just assume ‘cause I’m a Black man in America that I drink Bud?  That’s racist!”

Sgt. Crowley appears to look on with some confusion.

Prof. Gates – “I suppose you ‘spected me to bring a forty?  Of what, Colt-45?  You think I gonna drink a malt liquor?  That’s racist!”

Sgt. Crowley is popping open a Bud and.. just shaking his head.

President Obama – “Gentlemen – can we all take a picture together?  Shaking hands?”

The three men are now posing together… Crowley and Gates, beaming for the camera in a handclasp… the President standing behind them… a hand on each shoulder.  Truly, a Sadat/Begin/Carter Middle East Peace Accord moment.  The cameras are flashing a fusillade of strobes.   Oh…the history in the making…a thrill up all our legs!  And this reporter is quite certain …a Nobel Peace Prize waiting in the wings of his legacy.

President Obama – “Sgt. Crowley, I still can’t get over you bringing a six-pack!”

Prof. Gates – “Now wait a second, here, Mr. President.  I coulda brought beer.  I didn’t bring nothing cuz I assumed, being an invitation of the White House, that beer would be provided.”

President Obama – “As indeed we have.  Gentlemen!”

On a cue from the President, now the Executive Staff rush in and pour beers for the Professor and the President, while apparently Sgt. Crowley is staying with his Bud.

It seems the Professor is hesitating…

Prof. Gates – “Is that Stella?  I only drink Stella.”

President Obama – “Of course it’s Stella.  I’m the President of the United States of America.”

Sgt. Crowley – “Thanks, I’ve got a Bud.”

The President is taking a seat at the picnic table alongside the Professor, opposite Sgt. Crowley.  The President just sipped his beer.  He smacked his lips and beamed his famous smile, in clear executive pleasure.  Oh my… he has never looked more commanding!

President Obama – “Nothing like a nice beer on a hot summer day.”

Sgt. Crowley – “I agree, Mr. President.”

Prof. Gates – “True dat.”

And now…oh yes.   I was worried, but there they are.  The Executive Assistants are being careful to remain just out of camera frame as they set up the Presidential Teleprompters on either side of the President.

Sgt. Crowley is looking a bit…dubious… obviously overwhelmed by the grandeur of the moment…but he says nothing.

And now…ladies and gentlemen…the President of the United States of America –

President Obama – (reading, turning to the left…then the right)  “So, I’m glad we could come together here in this beautiful park on this momentous occasion to mark the turning point in global race relations.  The symbolism of this one important act will resound throughout history.  And I think we have some pretzels.”

The security force is producing several bowls of pretzels now…

Prof. Gates – “Are those Roll-Gold?  I only eat Roll-Gold.”

Sgt. Crowley – “Thank you, Mr. President.”

President Obama – “Now.  I am hoping that on this historic occasion, we can at last and for all time, mend the broken fence of interracial relations.  We have the opportunity here to establish a global accord on this day…over beers…to cement a new understanding between races of tolerance and understanding and brotherhood.  And can we top off those beers for you guys?”

Sgt. Crowley is declining still sticking with his first Budweiser as Prof. Gates accepts a refill.  I’m not sure at this point if it’s a political point the police officer is making here, a strategic ‘line-in-the-sand,’ or if…he simply prefers Bud to Stella.

And now…as the camera dollies in tight on the President as A and B camera get isolated B-roll shots of Professor Gates’ and Sgt. Crowley’s reactions to the President…

President Obama – (reading from teleprompter)  “As you know, this recent controversy in Cambridge got many people up in arms, thinking that possibly the police in general, the Cambridge police department specifically, and you, Sgt. Crowley, even more specifically were at fault for the incident by racial profiling.”

Prof. Gates – “Racism, straight up.  I been disenfranchised.”

President Obama – “And I’m willing to concede, now having examined the facts of the incident more closely, that there may have been an over-reaction on both parties involved.”

Sgt. Crowley – “Mr. President, first of all, thank you for this gracious invitation to meet with you and Professor Gates.  I appreciate the Holiday Inn accommodations as well as the bus ticket to get here.  But I must say that I don’t myself understand how this all got so out of hand.  I received the call, acted in accordance with department policy, and that’s all.  I simply did my job.”

Prof. Gates – “Does your job include tearing a man out of his own home and victimizing yet another African-American who just wants to exercise his rights to be a free Black man in America?  The honorable Martin Luther King marched for that, he died for that.  Does Selma, Alabama ring a bell?  Four hundred years of oppression!  Racial profiling amongst the police is epidemic!  Kunte Kinte knows what I’m talking about.  And may I have a refill?  And, Mr. President, have you got some spicy mustard for the pretzels?”

Sgt. Crowley – “Professor, respectfully – race had absolutely nothing to do with your arrest.  The woman who reported the incident, who made the 911 call, is now being called a racist, and that is not fair.  She was doing her civic duty to the community in what she perceived to be a break-in to your house.”

Prof. Gates – “Breaking in to my own house!  A black man in America, of course, I’m a criminal!  You racial profiling!  All you whites do that!  Yo mama do that!  Attica!  Attica!!”

President Obama – “Now, Professor Gates, I’m sure that that’s not true.  I don’t believe that Sgt. Crowley’s mother was even in the vicinity at the time.”

Sgt. Crowley – “No, Mr. President, she surely was not.”

Prof. Gates – “Y’all like to do that on the po-po.  You see Black, you think ‘criminal.’  As an expert on Black history, Black inter-community relations, Black struggle psychology, and organizing Black blackness, I am offended and insulted the way the police and you, Sgt. Crowley, and yo mama, have victimized me and my brothers and sisters for four hundred years.”

Sgt. Crowley – “What??  I’ve…only lived here for…”

Prof. Gates – “And I’ll tell you one more thing.  This whole thing is indicative of what the Black man face on a daily basis, victimized and held down by the white extablishment.

President Obama – “But Professor…I’m the establishment now.  I’m President of the United States of America.  Me.  A Black Man.  With a rich cultural heritage.”

Prof. Gates – “Well, you half-way there.  Say man, can I get some Gray Poupon?  I like that Gray Poupon, that French stuff.  You got some of that?”

President Obama – “Can we get some Gray Poupon for the Professor?  Now, back to our summit here.  As you know…racial tensions in this country have run high, primarily due to my predecessor, George W. Bush.  He not only handed me an economy in shambles, he handed me a powder keg of racial tensions.  But with my election, I brought you the hope and change we need.”

Prof. Gates – “Speaking of change, I need to change my room at the Four Seasons.  Too close to the elevator, can’t hear my movies.  Can you handle that, Mr. President?”

President Obama – “Can we get somebody on that?  Can we get the Professor a new room?”

Prof. Gates – “Oh, and I got a frequent flyer number here, too.  I want credit for those miles.”

President Obama – “Yes, sir, we will make sure you get credit for the flights.”

Prof. Gates – “Do they give double credit for first class?  I heard they give double credit for first class.”

President Obama – “I can assure you, Professor.  We will look into that and get back to you.”

Sgt. Crowley – “Sir, again, I want to thank you for inviting me to meet with you and the Professor.  And I must say this – the police have a very difficult job.  And sure, there are occasionally some bad apples in the mix, but this is not the norm.  Our department at Cambridge has only the highest of professional and ethical standards.  We’re not asking for an apology.  We just need to have these accusations of racism stop.  We are not racists.  The woman who reported the incident is not a racist.  I am not a racist.”

Prof. Gates – “Yo mama.”

Sgt. Crowley – “And my mother is not a racist.”

Prof. Gates – “Yo mama, yo daddy, yo bald-headed granny.”

President Obama – “Gentlemen…and I think I speak now for the sentiments of the American people.  Can we..can w-we…can we just get along?”

Now the President reaches into his pocket…and pulls out…coins of some sort…

President Obama – “Okay, now… Who wants to play ‘Quarters’?

Oh wait a minute…it seems Sgt. Crowley is standing…is he going to leave?

Sgt. Crowley – “I have to get back to Cambridge, sir.  I have to catch my bus.  Thanks once again, and you can keep the Bud.”

Sgt. Crowley is shaking the President’s hand …and now he turns to shake the Professors hand…oh!  The Professor… just waved off the sergeant… oh Diss!   The sergeant simply shrugs and walks away to his awaiting taxi.  It seemed rather…I don’t know…’above-it-all’…  Not exactly the posture of a man intent in proving he’s not a racist, wouldn’t you say?

The President is now bouncing coins into his beer mug.

The professor seems distracted as he dips his pretzel into some mustard.

Prof. Gates – “Is this dijon?  I only eat dijon mustard.”

…Back to you in the studio…

And I agree – that the President is doing his level best to buck this country up. 

His bucked-up foreign policy has signaled weakness to our detractors and encouraged aggression from those who would destroy us. 

He bucked up our financial institutions by taking control of over 600 banks.  He bucked up the automotive industry with at first his bail-outs with strings, and firing CEO’s, and placing stipulations, regulations and mandates on formerly private companies. 

With his ‘cap-and-trade’ bill, he bucked up the energy industry by passing the largest tax hike in history… to further buck up the middle class. 

He’s bucking us up with his racist, activist supreme court nominee, the not-so-wise affirmative action judge Sotomayor.  He’s bucking up our economy by plunging us into an abyss of debt and raising taxes on those who build industry.   He’s bucking up big business; he’s bucking up small business.  In fact, the only faction not getting bucked up are the unions and government workers.  The message seems clear:  A) Join a union or B) Go to work for the government, or C) Do both…. or we’re going to buck you up.

But does the buck really stop there?   I think there’s plenty more on the way.   Thus far we still have freedom of speech, freedom of expression.  But with a revised version of the Fairness Doctrine due to come down the pike to silence talk radio and regulate the Internet, the president and his brood will be sure to buck that up too.  After all, it’s only been six months.  Plenty of buck-up time still to go.

And we still have the 2nd Amendment in place.  The right to keep and bear arms.  But as anyone who follows history knows, hardcore socialists can’t wait to inflict all sorts of gun control, restrictions, registrations, and eventually, confiscations on its citizens. 

It’s so much easier to control people when they cease to be citizens, and start being subjects. 

You see, our leader, President Obama, is the smartest man in the universe.  He is so smart, he doesn’t even have to have ever run a business himself in order to decide what is best for businesses.  And he doesn’t have to be a doctor or ever have run a hospital to know what is wrong with our health care system and how to make it less expensive and run more efficiently.  And he’s never even believed in capitalism and the free market system, but he swears he knows how to make that work oh so much better, too.

You have to admit, this guy is really good at bucking things up.

Now…all you folks who voted for this amazingly charismatic, yet annoyingly vapid, arrogant and incompetent man…I know it’s an embarrassment to admit.   And your pride will prevent you from an overt admission that you made a tragically wrong decision last November 4th.   But we understand.  Sometimes, with a stiff shot of media manipulation and some bad water, we make mistakes.  I myself admit to one of momentous stupidity when I, in the mid-seventies, actually cast my vote for Jimmy Carter for Prez of the United States.  (However, in my defense, I had been stoned off my gourd for the previous three years, it was college hysteria, and all the hot chicks seemed to be Democrats.  Or, come to think of it…not so much hot…as easy.)

But let us put aside our differences, our past mistakes, and our collegiate encumbrances.  What’s done is done.  Now we are faced with a leader who wants to supersede the Constitution and discount our American way of life for something more resembling a Eurotrash ghetto. 

He wants achievement to be punished and restricted…and he wants non-performance, indolence and apathy to be rewarded.  He promises Utopia, in which all worries of life are vaporized, and everything is free, paid for by himself, The One…and financed by the suckers who have fallen for that old-fashioned notion of working hard, earning a living, and keeping what you earn to spend on your own family.   We are being systematically bankrupted, stripped of our freedom, and saddling our grandkids with monstrous debt.

And Mr. Obama just smiles…and tells us to ‘buck up’.

I think about my country…about the brave servicemen who have paid the price for our liberty…and how those liberties are being quickly eroded and squashed by this new president and his sycophantic, erudite and despicable cronies in Congress…and I just want to cry.  But I don’t.  I suck it up.  Because I know there will be a reckoning.  There are just too many of us that love our country and want the socialists to keep their filthy mitts off of it.  So …to the parasites…to the statists, socialists, Marxists… to the thieves who continue to pass bills that legalize theft….

Buck me?   No….  Buck you, Mr. President.

On the up side, it gave me a chance to study all the people in line.  An occupational habit, I study people wherever I go, particularly when I’m a captive to some long, slow-moving queue.  The line moved so slowly, in fact, that I had the opportunity to memorize what all 32 line-standers were wearing, the color of their hair, the shape of their faces, my best guess at their ethnicity, their height….and as I was starting to indulge myself with guessing each person’s weight and how I would do working at a carnival, my thoughts began to wander.  (Did I mention the line in the post office moved very slowly?)

I had satisfied my fill of people-study; had mentally crowned the Strangest Looking, Most Obese, Most Attractive, and The Most Likely To Use The Word ‘Obsequious’ In A Sentence…and my attention began to wander to the workings inside this post office.  I live in the San Fernando Valley and this post office is smack dab in the middle of a vast inland-empire suburban metropolis.  It serves thousands upon thousands of people…very slowly.  There were three postal workers on duty to serve the public that day.  I should say two postal workers, as one would periodically rotate out for a ten-to-fifteen minute break.  A smoke break, judging from the heavy tobacco smell that accompanied each of their returns to duty.

“Hi, How are you today?” the Postal Worker rasped, as I had finally arrived at the desk.

“Well…I’m a little annoyed to tell you the truth.  I’ve been standing in this very boring line, waiting for all of you to finish your respective cigarettes, pushing my large package along the linoleum, watching you and your co-workers slowly attend to the customers like you’ve got all the time in the world.  Like this is some sort of purgatory we’re all corporately stuck inside, nobody going anywhere; and you all seem quite indifferent to whether or not this whole sad circus will drag on into a dark and dreary bleak eternity.  That’s how I’m doing!  How the hell are you?

Nah, I didn’t say any of that.  I wanted to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible so I hoisted my large package up onto the counter.  The post-person weighed it.  I saw $32.96 appear on the scale readout.  Cool, I can handle that.  Then he measured the package.  20″ by 20″ by 26.”

“Your total is $97.50.”  Straight faced, no joke.  I stared at him until I re-entered earth’s atmosphere and managed a, “Uh…I’m sorry.  Say what?”

It turned out the weight was a thirty-six buck charge, but the large(?) size added an additional sixty-four.  The value of the contents, a broken speaker, which if it had been working right, which it was not, was still worth less that the cost of shipping it.

With a sigh I lugged the package out of the post office, trundled down the street to the local UPS station…and ended up sending my package to Tennessee for forty bucks and change.

Why am I dragging you (slowwwly) through this sad and torridly tortured tale of Fun with Postal Workers?  Yeah…you guessed correctly: If the President gets his way, the same people who run the post office will soon be running our health care industry.

How’s that for a happy thought?

I even see a possible cost-cutting consolidation:  Mail your packages, buy stamps, and have your gall bladder removed – all in one convenient location!  And since the number of doctors will decrease dramatically, hence increasing the wait time…you will be able to self-medicate with the new Easy-Does-It Gov-Care Med Dispensers while you’re waiting in line.  With the right combination, hours will seem like seconds.

The President addressed a fawning crowd in Wisconsin last month and delineated the ‘catastrophic’ consequences of not spending trillions of tax dollars immediately to fix our ‘broken health care system.’  People can’t afford health care, they’re dropping like flies, and it’s an urgent crisis.  We’ve got to completely reorder medical care in America and we have to do it immediately, or we’re all gonna die.  It’s a crisis.

Sound vaguely familiar?

But I want to be specific if I take issue with Mr. Obama.  So here goes:  The President said, “Rising premiums are straining family budgets to the breaking point.”

Oh, I see.  But…is that all families?  Half the families?  One tenth?  Fifteen-sixteenths, what?  Can you be specific, Mr. President?  And what exactly is the ‘breaking point’?  And could massively reducing taxes help at all?  Just a thought.

Obama went on, “In the past nine years, health care premiums have gone up three times faster than wages have gone up.”

Could that have anything to do with an increasingly litigious mindset and left-leaning encouragement of frivolous lawsuits in which hospitals, doctors and health care institutions are sued at the least provocation?

How about the resultant ‘ get-something-for-nothing’ attitude fostered by the Left’s welfare society of entitlement?  And what about the increasingly intrusive role of government meddling in the industry of health care and health care providers, which by all reports of those directly involved, indicates that the presence of government in the health care industry at all drives premiums higher.  I’m just saying.

The Prez continued, “…desperately needed tests and procedures are put off, because the price is too high.”

But at least we can get those tests and procedures, Mr. President, without having to wait two years, as is so often the case in Canada, or Great Britain, or New Zealand or any place socialized medicine holds its people in rationed third-world misery.

My father was a surgeon and sat on the board of the CMA, the California Medical Assoc., and was one of the board examiners who went around and inspected hospitals.  The expertise acquired enabled him to later build three hospitals himself, and manage nine more.  And I had been telling everyone I was going to be a doctor as well, since I was six years old.  But you know?  My father told me about the evils of socialized medicine and how it was creeping into our system.  My father ultimately influenced me to not go into the medical practice.  The reason:  Government had become far too intrusive in the health care industry.  And this was 35 years ago.

It’s only gotten worse since.  More and more would-be doctors are seeking other professions as the word gets around.  It used to be – you work hard, do well in a four-year college, go to med school, work your butt off for four years, then another two at internship and residency, and then, you open up a private practice.  But there’s no such thing anymore.  Because it’s not private – the government is your partner.  And more and more, the government is becoming your boss.

With fewer and fewer doctors there will be much longer waits to a) get in to see a doctor, and then b) receive any treatment.  In Britain and Canada where they have ‘free’ national health care, waiting times of two years are not uncommon to receive life-saving surgery.  And a lot can happen in that time.  Like…you can die.

The President tells us our health care system is ‘broken’ because health care has gotten more expensive.  Really?  That makes it ‘broken,’ because it’s expensive?

Health care costs in the country have risen in the past few years.  Absolutely right.  New innovation and high-tech breakthroughs cost a lot of money.  New life-saving drugs are expensive, because years of research and development are necessary to bring them to market.  The best costs money.  Don’t you pay more for a finer cut of beef at the grocery store?  Don’t you pay more for a nicer car, one that has more amenities?  We don’t have the cheapest health care on the planet, it’s true – but we do have the best health care system.  So when President Obama every other day proclaims solemnly that ‘our health care system is broken’…what the hell is he talking about?

He’s talking about controlling more and more of your daily lives.

Our health care system isn’t broken; it’s the best in the world.  I’d say our government is broken, starting with President Obama!

When foreign dignitaries get very sick or need life-saving surgeries, do they book it in Canada?  Or England?  Hell no – they come to the U.S.  The medical technology, physician expertise, and quality of medicine is the highest here than on any place on earth.  And it costs money to develop the medicines, the technology and train the doctors.  Why do people think that good things shouldn’t cost money?

And these AARP adds.  And ‘The Scooter Store.’  Granny doing donuts on her living room carpet and happily proclaiming she didn’t pay anything out-of-pocket for the scooter.  That’s because YOU all paid for it.  And I don’t mean to be harsh here, but …does Granny really need to motor around her house?  Wouldn’t her doctor agree that her health would benefit if she merely got up off her sedentary butt and walked to the kitchen.  Walked to the bathroom?  Walked around and exercised a bit, pumping life-giving blood through her extremities?  Of course it would.  Granny – God bless ya, but — Stop thinking that other people should have to pay for your stuff!

And another thing — You hear many in the news today saying, “The main problem with National Health Care is ‘How are we going to pay for it?’”  Really?  That’s like saying, “Listen we of course want to tie you up, shove a dyslexic hamster up your bum, place you upside-down in a glass tube of acid filled with scorpions and jellyfish…but the main problem is ‘How do we pay for it?’”

Uh….Forget how we pay for it – it’s a stupid idea!!!!!

Okay, Gary, you obviously have no compassion.  What about the poor?  What about the poor who can’t afford health insurance?  I would ask you for a definition of what ‘they’ can afford.  Can they afford that HD wide-screen?  Twenty-four-hour Direct-TV All Sports channel?  How about that brand new Hummer?  I know a lot of people who say they can’t afford health insurance, but manage to take three vacations a year on their boat and have more toys that I’ve ever had.

Choices.  People make choices in life.  They choose to spend their money on health insurance.  Or…they upgrade their wide screen.  Get their house painted.  Buy a new dining room set.  Or…they save up to pay for their health care insurance.

Yesterday, at yet another Town Hall Meeting, (or as I like to call it, Doctor Obama’s Magic Traveling Medicine Show), a rather rotund woman, Debbie, came up to the President and tearfully pleaded that she was diagnosed with a tumor and didn’t know what to do.  In a brilliantly staged move, the Snake-Oil-Salesman-in-Chief warmly embraced her bulk, saying that she was “Exhibit A” [of why our health care system is broken].  And I couldn’t help but remember that old TV show from the late ‘50’s…”QUEEN FOR A DAY” in which each week three women would come on and tell their sad tale of woe and disaster and deprivation to the studio and television audience.  The studio audience would then vote for whom they thought was the most deserving Queen-For-the-Day.  It was heart-rending.  One tragedy bested by yet another disaster, and finally trumped by an apocalypse of misfortune.  Tears, sad organ music, and warm, supportive love and grieving.

And finally it was announced, and the winner was crowned “QUEEN FOR A DAY”!  The pipe organ would swell as tears and applause and a robe and crown and the new Queen of Pathos was regaled with new washer-dryers, sewing machines, vacuum cleaners, reclining chairs…and it was all so maudlin and sappy.  But the show was a big hit.  People tuned in to hear the sob stories and get their heartstrings tugged.  And afterward…they felt a little better about themselves.

This is the essence of Liberalism.  It’s all about feeling a little better about yourself by doing ‘something nice’ and giving something to someone else.  And I say GOOD!  As long as no one is forcing me to give to someone else.  I’m all too happy to be nice to someone else, to give to a stranger, let’s say…voluntarily. (And by the way, Americans, and in fact Conservatives, are the biggest givers on the planet.)

But you write it into law, and back it up with a gun…now we got a problem.  Liberals are very generous – with other people’s money.

So when a zillion ‘Debbies’ come to me and ask me to pay for their health care, to treat their tumors, I say…HUNH?  Why should I have to pay for your health care?  And likewise, why should you have to pay for mine?  You don’t pay for my groceries, I don’t pay for yours…and isn’t food more vital that health care?  Here’s a novel idea:  Why don’t I pay for my health care and you pay for yours?.  Just a thought.

But how about this for people like Debbie:  HEALTH CARE TELETHONS!  Televised much like the Jerry Lewis MS Telethons, each stricken victim parades forth and tells their story – straight into the camera.  And the phones will light up with pledge money.  We can have menthol drops standing by for those not quite motivated to shed real Oprah-worthy tears.  And yours truly will keep whatever we raise above and beyond what your surgery or treatment ends up costing.  And I’ll put that money in a lock-box.  To be disseminated at a time and to a recipient of my choosing.

Now doesn’t that make more sense than what the Prez is proposing?  That because supposedly 30 million in this country (largely illegal or simply opting out) don’t have health insurance, our health care system — the best, most advanced medical system ever known to mankind — is ‘broken’ and needs to be turned over to the federal government to run?

What the President is proposing is insanity.  Return the medical industry to the private sector.  That is the only way to reduce costs and keep the quality of service at its optimum.