Health Care Debate

There is a lot of noise going on about socialized medicine and bla bla bla. Jesus christ, can you think of anything more dumb than worrying about the red menace? Fucking hell, Glenn Beck recently asked someone if he liked Karl Marx! Why is nobody asking Glenn Beck the important questions, mainly "Where is your time machine and how did you get here from 1952?"

My point about health care is this...let's say that, hypothetically, it would cost me exactly the same amount of money to get my health care from the insurance company or the government. Let's say $5,000 a year. I pay $5,000 a year just in case I need to have surgery or something.

Now let's say that, hypothetically, I never ever ever have to go to the doctor's office. That $5,000 isn't ever coming back to me. In the current system, that money went to the insurance company, which means that my annual $5,000 went into some corporate insurance d-bag's pocket.

If it was a government run program, my $5,000 wouldn't be going to profit, it would be going into the system that was making sure my fellow American's were getting the medical attention they required. And that doesn't bother me at all. That makes me proud to be an American.

Hypothetically, of course...

"The Office"

I know I owe you guys the end of my "Traveling" blog, but I've been watching the office, and it's been blowing my mind.

Jim came back from his interview at corporate and asked Pam out to dinner?!?! WHAT? What's gonna happen?!~?!

I could just start season 4 and find out, but I enjoy just flipping out for awhile.

on the road...

I've never been a big fan of traveling. Well, actually that's a bit of a lie. I used to love traveling, but it changed at some point from something that totally fascinated me to an incredible waste of time.

I used to view everything past my block as having limitless potential for adventure. I harassed my parents constantly to loosen the leash they had me on. I wanted to get a job. I wanted to get a bike. I wanted to get my drivers license. I wanted to learn to fly a plane. At a very young age I packed a bag full of triskets and a pepsi and rode my bike exactly half a block away, found a cool spot under a tree and chilled out for a few hours. When I reached adolescence I started taking walks to the neighborhoods I was less familiar with around Brentwood, and as a teenager with a license I tended to enjoy getting lost in random outer LA towns and trying to drive my way back. I would be gone for hours and was happy as a clam so long as I had music and no one to answer to.

Then when I first went to go look at colleges I discovered what travel really was: I took a long flight to a place to pick up a car with my dad and we drove. And drove and drove and drove. I had no idea where I was going. I had no idea where I was. All I knew was that Dad would tell me where to turn, and after HOURS in the car listening to the same tapes over and over again we would arrive at a college where I would interview (awkwardly), then get back in the car and continue the journey once again. After my week of looking at schools around the east coast, I decided that I was done with traveling for awhile.

Each expidition after that was similarly annoying. The road trip across America was dominated by my brother and his douchey tendencies. The trip to Europe was tainted by a perpetually upset stomach, a lack of culinary expertise, and my miserable gay friend and his hag who liked me. Road trips had breakdowns. Flights were cancelled. It wasn't long before I only wanted to dig in somewhere and never ever leave.

I found a place in Queens, New York and stayed there for five years. I traveled as little as humanly possible and was happy as a clam.

Then came improv tour.

To be continued...

I BEAT HOUSE!

I was watching “House” the other day. It was the episode where they treat a homeless woman who is having seizures. About twenty minutes in I made a startling realization: I know what’s wrong with this woman.

“Sensitivity to light...violence and aggression...bats where she sleeps…she’s got rabies!”

(I had just recently listened to an episode of “This American Life” which talked about the symptoms of rabies.)

Now, I am not a doctor, so I gave the episode the benefit of the doubt. “Surely this team of professionals would have thought of, and already ruled out rabies as a possible diagnosis.” But low and behold, forty minutes later…

“My god…it’s rabies!”

I BEAT HOUSE TO A DIAGNOSIS!

You’re damn right it’s rabies, Foreman! If I existed in your TV world, that fictional woman would be ALIVE right now!