Happy Birthday Dad.

As we drove past my old apartment tonight I realized that it was twenty years ago tonight that we had, not our last Christmas birthday with you, but certainly the last Christmas where we still believed that our Christmases couldn't possible ever change. Where Christmas was filled with not hurt, but love.

I looked at your youngest son tonight, sitting in the kitchen with the other guys and I could have sworn it was you. The only thing missing was a cigarette and the leg cocked up in the kitchen chair, oh and hair of course. ;) It looked so much like the old days where the fathers just stayed away from the madhouse of the festivities until forced to become part of the celebration because someone had a gift for them.

I remembered when you would finally move from the kitchen into the living room to watch all the kids open their presents. I remember how hard it was to find something to give you that would need for your Christmas birthday and it always seemed to be only socks. I know the actual present didn't really matter that much anyway, but I always wanted to find you something better.

Although it was absolute chaos tonight, you would have loved it.

You would have loved seeing what fine adults your grandchildren are now. You would be so very proud of them. You would have loved that your and mom's influence didn't just extend to your children remaining closer than any family I know, you would have smiled seeng how the next generation is as dedicated as we are to remain committed to each other, no matter what.

You would have delighted in seeing your oldest great grandson now quickly becoming an adult who is one of the kindest guys I've known. You would have spoiled those next two great granddaughters who were dropped into our family, not from the stork, but from a gift from God and the State if Indiana.

You would have loved watching your youngest great granddaughter twirling in her new dress singing a beautiful Christmas song. And I know without a doubt that you would have been holding your youngest great grandson and loving that toddler stage. And you would have had tears in your eyes from laughter when this 18 mo old picked up an empty(thank goodness) beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and trying to swig it like he was a pro. You would have loved that our family continues to expand and yet never grow farther apart. Whether that expansion is through marriage and children, children though adoption or through bringing them into our family though new relationships.

I believe you would be proud that although it seemed impossible at times, we did manage to continue our family in your absence. And really shouldn't that be every parent's goal? To know that you raised your kids to be responsible strong adults who have against all odds raised their kids the same and who are now training their own children the same way.

But I hope it gives you peace that although there will always be an empty chair at Christmas, the room is filled with life, love and laughter.

But I wish you were here to enjoy all these wonderful new additions to your family and that they could have experienced a doting great grandpa.

But we still miss you.

I don't know of they celebrate birthdays up there in heaven, but that will not stop me from wish you a happy birthday anyway. I love you Dad. "Always Will". "Always will".

My Favorite

"This child that you delivered, will soon deliver you."

And please enjoy my friend's Z's version her voice is so beautiful.

Merry Christmas Friends. I hope peace for each of you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Random Acts of IPhone

I got nothin' to say, but they say an Iphone is worth a thousand words. That IS the saying, isn't it?

I could write a post every fifteen minutes if you would get inside my head all day long because I often think, "I could post something on this." And then I never get around to it. I snap a pic and have a great idea in my head but sitting down and typing it out is like herding hummingbirds.

So make of this what you will. Caption them, enjoy them, ignore them, it's up to you.

Anyone want to try to guess why this shadow is important?

Our yard frog after a storm.

I now have an orchid fetish.

Baby fish face

Don't ask me.

Ginny's homemade spaghetti recipe.  She isn't my aunt legally, but she sure is in my heart.

Yeah, even the Dish Guide has this right.

Saw this on the interstate one morning. Bigger it up to see why i did.  

Interesting Cha Cha answer.  One that I happen to agree with.

Note to self:  Don't try to catch your favorite Pampered Chef knife when its' falling.

Agriturismo in Volterra, Italy.  - Returning May 2013.

Manarola, Italy.  Returning to the top of the cliff again! 

Sowell and Friedman vs Piven

I might have to listen to the whole set of Milton Friedman videos.

These videos are old, but they are so very true today. Found one on a blog somewhere and just started watching the follow-up videos.

Lump in My Throat.

Stole this from my buddy, Ed.

Thank you Vets for your service.

Letters - REPOSTED for Veterans Day

This is a repost in honor of all of our veterans.  Thank you each and every one of you. 

He was young and newly married. By all accounts his bride was sweet, funny and beautiful and I'm sure they were starting their new life with a lot of hopeful expectations.

The letter was not in the plans.

But it came anyway. It looked alot like this:

In 1969, the number of troop levels in Vietnam had only slightly declined from the peak established two years previously.

The young marriage never stood a chance and was over before the end of his Basic Training.

Testing at the end of the Basic and Advanced Infantry Training indicated he was eligible for NCO Training school. Knowing that the odds were high that every draftee would be sent to Vietnam, he surmised that the 16 weeks of training would be 16 weeks less he would be in the middle of a nasty war.

They called guys like him "Shake n Bakes". They threw them into 16 weeks of training, shipped them off to Vietnam and called them Sarge. He was 20 years old.

His brother-in-law drove him to the airport. He was the only one in the family that he would tell even the date of his departure. He did not want any "goodbyes". It was likely a combination of not wanting to have a dreadfully emotional family departure, not tempting fate with a goodbye that could be forever and not wanting to lose control of his own emotions.

So he went off the "serve his country" for the next year. He still has the calendar where he marked off each day one by one. Was he afraid? Oh yeah, I would bet he was. Only someone mentally unstable could not be afraid.

Reality struck hard as the night flight was arriving in the midst of the war. Below you could see the rounds of the enemy fire. The pilot explained they would be turning off all of the outside lights of the aircraft while they landed in order to keep the enemy from shooting the plane or the young soldiers as they departed. Upon landing the guys literally had to run to a bunker while the bullets rained around them.

Most of the year he spent in a fox hole or beside one in his personnel carrier. There was little time in base camp. His mother sent a "care package" every three weeks or so. He still remembers them "saving" him from starving from the C rations. If you think those thoughts fade over time, you're wrong. Yesterday, without any discussion whatsoever that would trigger that memory he repeated those words. It was resurrected because he had taken a can of Vienna Sausages to work, thinking those tasted so good back then. I guess they did if you lived on C rations for nearly a year. Yesterday's lunch made him gag after forcing down three sausages. He recalled the guys practically fought over Beanie Weenies C rations . He shared the care packages with his troop, well at least some of them. He still recalls how they were estatic when there would be a drop of a pallet of warm beer.

War was different then. The Vietnam war cost 55,000 American lives. It was not waged smart. It was not waged to win. I'm reminded of a quote by General Schwarzkopf during Desert Storm, "when you go to war, you go to WIN." The general learned that lesson in Vietnam, where we sent our boys in trickles. Kill enough of them and then just send in a few more. It was not strategic. If was not even labeled a war, it was a "police action". There were no battle lines as in past wars. It was bloody and there was no way to accurately distinquish your enemy from your ally. By all accounts, American involvement lasted close to 20 years.

He would tell you there wasn't alot of sympathy of the deaths of 12-year-olds, because they were the ones who would walk up next to your buddy and casually put down a "satchel charge", a bomb hidden within an inconspicous satchel. Even young kids were your enemy and would kill you if given the chance.

Christmas Eve 1969: At night, the armored vehicles would form a parameter, much like a wagon circle of the olden days. His personnel carrier ended up just in front of a previously created bomb crater. This was one time his size was on his side. At 5'5, he could fit inside the crater unlike his fellow troops. He went to sleep that night lying in the crater.

At 1:00 a.m. Christmas morning, the night sky lit up like the 4th of July. The Viet Cong went on full attack. The other guys in the armor vehicles next to him were in the line of fire. The crater was small so he scrambled to get up to get to the personnel carrier and the machine gun. But he couldn't.

Only 6 months ago did he finally tell the following part of the story.

He felt as if something was physically pushing him back down. Confused, he tried again. And again, he was "shoved" back down. It was not fear, it was not a lack of courage, he had been tested for those too many times before and had "passed". When he was finally able to tell this part of the story it was because he could finally admit that he believed that night a force greater than himself actually forced him back. He never told that story because he didn't think anyone would believe him and he was simply overwhelmed by the feeling that it was only because it was simply not 'his time". A few minutes later he tried again, finally managing to scramble out of the crater and climbing up to the machine gun where he began firing the clips.

After a prolonged fight, he said the guns would get so hot that when you stopped firing they would continue firing rounds all on their own. They called that problem "cooking off". The guns were cooking and fired on their own until they cooled off.

Forty years later, Christmas Eve still brings back memories of that night. Two of the men were shot beside him. It was not a quick death. He heard their screams continue all night. The battle was too intense for the medics to arrive or for anyone else to help them. The men screamed through the wee hours of Christmas morning until they finally died from their injuries. Their screams finally ceased, well, except where they continue in his head to this day.

A few months later he would temporarily lose his hearing when a missle hit the side of his personnel carrier. It was supposed to have exploded on impact. If it had, he would have lost more than his hearing, he would have been dead. But again, it was not "his time".

Each night while the armored vehicles rounded up in their circle, one of the vehicle's crew would stand watch. They would station themselves on foot about 1/4 of a mile beyond the parameter of those sleeping. Back at the parameter every 15 minutes or so, they would request you to "break squelch" three times, which meant all was clear. Break squelch is silently hitting the transmit button on your field radio without speaking. It was a silent way to let the troops at the parameter know all was well. If you didn't respond or didn't break squelch three times, then the guys at the parameter knew there was a problem.

He talks of the night where he could hear the enemy walk right past him. It's moments like these where you learn to be stealthly quiet. He had to wait. He had to let them get past him before he could radio back to fire a round of illumination in order for them not to hear his transmission. Firing an illumination round would tell him where the artillery was pointed and then he could tell them where to adjust the rounds to ensure they were aiming toward the enemy and not the guys on watch. If he was off on his coordinates, it would have been very very bad.

Requesting an illumination round also carried a great risk. Firing it also warned the enemy. Once they spotted the illumination, they would run like hell. Which meant they could run right back into you if they scattered back in your direction.

Again, it was not his time. His coordinates were accurate and the enemy did not run in his direction.
An entire year spent in his young life. He tells of the plane ride home. All lights were out during take off and all was silent within the cabin. Any light or noise could let the enemy know a plane was leaving and it would be shot down, killing the soldiers who, up until then had been lucky enough to survive their tour of duty.

Upon reaching the proper altitude, spontaneously all of the men let out a deafening cheer. They had made it.

They were going home.

Except for very few men in his family, he never spoke of his time in Vietnam. It took 30 years when he finally began to tell the stories. Things like how the Koreans would go up into the mountains at night and brag to the Americans how many VC they had killed. The soldiers didn't believe them until one morning they brought back four severed heads of the enemy. Some men held the heads up by the hair for pictures. He refused claiming he never wanted his mother to ever find a picture of him in such a pose. He had sent the pictures to his step father, swearing him never to share them with anyone. Years later, they were returned to him and lay today among the other pictures that were taken at that time.

He harbors no ill for the guys that split to Canada. It was what it was. He never used a "Vietnam excuse" for anything in his life although now he wonders if it didn't harden his emotions, making him less open to expressing his feelings towards those he has loved throughout the years since.

He fought for his country. Every time, and I do mean EVERY TIME the National Anthem is sung, he stands still and if you look at his forearms you can see the goosebumps rise. The same is true for Lee Greenwood's Proud to be an American.

The day after 9-11 he adamantly stated that if the military would take someone his age he would enlist, he would go and fight and die for his country if need be. This time it would be his own choice. But of course, the military would enlist only men and women half his age.

He's not particularly political, nor does he keep firm tabs on world events. But he firmly believes in defending this country and keeping a strong military defense. To do otherwise invites the evil in this world to overtake the very freedoms that he and thousands before and after him have fought for.

America "appreciated" his efforts along with thousands of other young Vietnam soldiers by calling them baby killers and condemning them for being drafted into a war and serving their country. Only now do most Americans realize how badly the soldiers were treated.

Occasionally he would come across some of the things he had from the war and his service. About five years ago he wrote to the Army to get some of the medals from his service which were now missing, either from being lost or having never received. He wanted to make sure he could "pass them on" later.

The process was to write a letter to the Army. They would research your records and send you a notice of the medals you should have received and then you could request any missing medals.

The letter arrived while he was working a side job and his wife opened it, curious as to which ones he didn't have. They had been married for 15 years and when they met, enough time had passed so that he had told her nearly all of the stories that he had been hesitant to tell over the years.

Reading the listing of medals, she was confused. He had repeated over the years which ones he had and which ones were missing. She didn't remember all of the names, some were for the units in which he served, some of his rank and some of merit. But she was sure she never heard him mention one she saw on the list the Army sent.

She called him at work and asked him which medals should be on the list. He recited them off from memory and did not mention one of them that was on the list. The same one she had never heard him speak of.

He had served his country. He didn't do it by choice, but he had done it willingly and proudly.

He had not been awarded the missing medal in a ceremony nor even told of it in 35 years.

Weeks after receiving the offical letter from the Army, 35 years after his discharge, a goverment employee delivered the missing medal.

There between the electric bill and a sale catalog for Macys, the postal worker casually tossed a small package that contained his long-ago earned Bronze Star into the rural mailbox.

Please, if you have former war vets in your family, ask for a time when you can sit with them and find out all of their stories. I have Uncles who were in WWII and the Korean War. All of them are now gone. When my Uncle Bob passed away he had medals with the scription of "The Last Man" There was more than one. He fought in Sicily (if I remember correctly). I cannot imagine what must have happened to have "earned" that medal. I wished I had asked him to tell me about his war medals.

These stories should not be buried with our heroes. Ask someone you know, write it down and save history for our grandchildren.

I'm Going To Throw Up

America is lost.

As A Woman

I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of being labeled "female". By both campaigns.

I don't spend my day thinking about my gender. I don't spend my day thinking about who will cater to my ass because I quite frankly never look for anyone else to take care of me.

I don't want anyone finding my name in a binder because they are looking for the best woman for the job. I want to be hired because I am the best PERSON for the position.

If you are in business and you turn down a better qualified man to hire me because I'm female, then you are too stupid for me to want to work for you.

If you hire a less qualified black woman instead of me, then you are too stupid for me to want to work for you.

I seriously doubt that because my female parts didn't spit out a kid as much as I wanted them too that makes me less inclined for my "lady parts" to try to pull a lever when I vote.

I would never deign to assume that most men don't think with their man parts for the majority of their lives. (sorry guys, but you know the minute a pretty girl is within a mile of you that's exactly what happens). But I sure as hell don't know ANY woman that makes the voting decision based upon what their uterus thinks.

Hell, these idiots claim it's the vagina, not the uterus that holds the baby they rejoice in aborting. I didn't get the joy of ever holding one precious life of mine and I know the difference.

(See the orignal thing below)

QUIT CATERiNG THE €£#% to me.

I find it disgusting.

What I cannot fathom is that even as I have never embraced the feminist bull, the next generation of women have actually taken a HUGE leap backward.

I had resisted reading the latest woman fad novel. But a young girl I worked with convinced me to read the trash. I purchased it on my Nook Glow and hoped all the way through the end I could find one, just one redeeming value in it.

Instead what I found out that women in America have apparently raved about a trashy novel whose heroin is some fraidy cat college coed who gives up her virginity to some warped S&M sicko and then subjects herself to the demeaning abusive bastard that needs to spend his days in a maximum security prison with Big Bubba as his cell mate.

What in the hell has happened to women these days?

If that lousy piece of trash is what the majority of women in America immerse themselves in then it's no wonder the Obama Campaign would think an ad with an idiot Hollywood nobody comparing voting for the first time as losing her virginity as a good idea.

At this point, I am inclined to believe that women should never have been given the right to vote in the first place.

Friday I stood in line at the courthouse for 30 minutes to cast my vote. They said the early voting began October 6th and it had been a constant stream everyday. Already 6,000 had voted. There is not doubt how my county votes. Except I cannot help from eyeing everyone in line and wondering if they are voting for revenge or because they love the country.

Original idiotic ad:

Things that seem to be a no brainer.

"Providing protection is a tad more important for an Embasssy than a Co-Ed."

Greg Gutfeld. The Five.

News From a Swing State

Been hanging out here in Fort Myers since a week ago Wednesday.

From a pure non-scientific analysis, the ads are rampant here. For the most part the Romney ads have been positive, Obama ads have said Romney will end Medicare, eliminate the mortgage deduction and kill all young women like he was an Islamic extremist.

In the airport I saw one women with a big Obama button the night of the debate. Other than that I have seen no sign of Obama support.

A drive from here to Bonita Beach along Fort Myers Beach, we saw perhaps a dozen beachside properties with Romney Ryan signs. Not a huge endorsement, but we saw none for Obama.

Along a fairly large empty lot just off Bonita Beach, there were four large signs blasting Obama with "Get Him Out". Saw smaller versions along Bonita Beach, probably a half dozen places with anti-Obama signs.

Three cars or so with Romney signs. Not one with Obama.

So, in this swing state, I have seen one Obama button versus twenty or so Romney signs.

Oh.

A couple days after we arrived, the house phone rings. We only have it connected for the alarm and it's registered with the Do Not Call List. When I answered it a pleasant young lady (dare I say she sounded black without being labeled a racist?) greeted me saying she was from the Obama campaign and asked me of I could be counted on to provide them financial support.

I laughed my best imitation of a Joe Biden laugh and said NO. The nice lady then asked, "so are you still undecided?" I could not help but laugh again and say ,"no, I have NEVER been undecided."

By now I would have thought she would have gotten the message, but like most Obamabots she could not see the overly obvious sign she was in the wrong track.

She asked me if I was then supporting Romney. I told her that I supported Anyone But Obama. She wished me a good day and I returned the favor.

And tonight the house phone rings again however Bob picked it up. He was evasive as to who they wanted to speak to but the conversation was quick. He couldn't understand the caller other than she was from the Obama campaign. Not sure who hung up first, the guy that hates politics but will be voting for Romney or the caller who couldn't get the answer she was looking for.

Just read where Frank Luntz is taking Florida out of the swing state category. If our experience here is any indication, I'd say he's correct.

The Sell

I make it pretty clear that I despise shopping. Unless it's a book store or a kitchen gadget store, I avoid shopping until my attire looks so ragged that one might assume I'm on the verge of being homeless.

While I was making out my grocery list this morning, I got a wild hair to buy some new tennis shoes. The last pair I bought was over three years ago right before I left for Italy. Up until then I would not pay more than $50 for tennis shoes. When I was trying on shoes, the saleslady at Dick's Sporting Goods convinced me to try on some $120 shoes with bright lilac stripes. They were not anything I would have picked out, but once I tried them on I realized that she was right. My high arch was supported by the not-so-me shoe and I never regretted spending that money.

So today I went to the mall to hopefully find another well informed salesman who could tell me the right kind of shoe to get for my feet. It took awhile, but finally I got a salesguy that showed me the same type of shoe, but it was much more my style and now at a bargain rate of $79.

Instead of immediately exiting the mall, which would be my normal M.O. I trekked out to see if I might actually find something that captured my eye.

So I'm walking past the stores and kiosks when one of those hawker kiosk guys tries to stop me. I glanced over, shook my head and moved on. The young man then asked me a question I couldn't quite hear. Normally I would just walk on but something about the tone of the question stopped me. He was a young guy with a Middle East accent and look.

I couldn't quite place his accent, not Indian, not Saudi. When I slowed to figure out what he said, he smiled. This kid was slick. He wasn't overly attractive in a physical sense, nice looking, but just okay but this boy knew how to put out the charm.

He asked me if I wore my nails natural. Well I do now and although they are thin, the last few weeks they have survived long enough to be a nice length. He gave me a flirty smile and took a buffer and buffed my thumbnail to a clear nail polish shine.

I knew I was not going to spend money on an overly priced buffer and he shows me this whole kit. I'm a hard sell and I wasn't falling for a charming, sweet talking cute 20 year old. So I don't fall for the cute grin when he tells me the normal price is $62 but its on sale for $49. No way Jose, I mean Mohammad. He continues asking me questions about my nails. I tell him I'm too lazy to mess with them. Then he asks me what I do, when I tell him I'm in IT he asks me if I wash my hands a lot. He continues holding my hand when I tell him no. He smiles and says "So you're a dirty girl." I wasn't quite sure if he knew the double entendre or he was just making a joke. In either case it still made me laugh. He knew I was on to his game.

He didn't have the hokey charm, but real charm, obviously well versed in charming the ladies, even the old frumpy ones. So with a definite "No" he then pulls out a crunched up box. Gives me another charming song and dance. By then I'm smiling. We both know its a game he's good at. I tell him so. He shows me the discounted box and then turns it over and says, "And look here, this is made in Israel. Not in China." So then I'm wondering if my new cute crush is an Israeli. Which instantly makes him even more cute in my book. He takes out his calculator and says he can sell me the damaged box for $24. I tell him I'll pay him $15.

He smiles and puts his arm around me. "Oh I can't do that." I laugh, enjoying this kid's successful attempt at making an old lady enjoy being flirted with even if its just for a sale. I told him he was really good at this but I didn't really need it but I enjoyed his sales pitch as I walked on.

I browsed a couple stores for a whole 15 minutes, which is much too long for my taste and start my way back. I know I must pass the kiosk again and honestly the thought about the products being made in Israel was sticking in my brain occupying the same space as still enjoying being flirted with by a young boy. (No, I'm not under any delusion that he was flirting other than for the sale, but it's still a nice feeling.)

So I walk back toward the kiosk and I find my cute young man. He starts to go back to his spiel when he realizes this was the fish that just got away. He grins that cute smile, puts his arm back around me while pulling out the damaged box and I grin and tell him I'll give him $20. He then says, "oh Baby, no." He already knows he has me reeled in and I laugh again at watching this snake charmer in action. You have to appreciate a good salesguy that can pull that off without seeming smarmy.

He's still flirting as he's ringing up the sale. Tells me his name is at the top of the receipt, it's Zion. Huh. I'm again wondering if he's Israeli. Call me racist, but it's easy to find a young Israeli more charming than a Pakistani. Perhaps it's because I'm thinking about him practicing to be a suicide bomber.

I leave the mall smiling, which is unusual for me.

Maybe now I understand better why old men are swayed into the charms of young good looking girls that know how to put on a good flirt.

Hey, I'm old, not dead.

What???

When liberal psychos Chris Matthews and Ed Schultz are saying Romeny wasn't angry, but determined and that Obama looked weak and using a lack of debate experience as an excuse was not accurate the you know that debate didn't go Obama's way.

Normally I cannot watch MSNBC but this debate analysis is just pure entertainment.

Imagine what the VP debate will bring.

The Bot Man Cometh

My email is filling up with unpublished comments from some bot regarding my Tolerance From My Back Yard post.

I suppose that the assholes that create these things keep posting over and over regardless if the comments actually are published.

Blogger at least stops them from being published but not from sending the email notification.

But in case you're in need, I have plenty of leads on buying various drugs now.

I've turned on word verification until the bots kill themselves from a drug overdose.

Sorry guys.

That Play Was CRAZY

Let's forget all this bickering, yelling, fighting and calling of names.

Ha, if the video below wasn't there, you would think I was talking about the election, wouldn't you?

Nope.

Silence is Golden

Been awfully quiet around these parts lately.

No real reason other than I've been spending too much time wrapped up in this lousy election season. CnC and I went to see 2016. He's been pestering ever since to do a He Said She Said and I've been too lazy.

We went to dinner before the movie. Bob joined us for dinner. When he started complaining to CnC about my obsession with politics I started laughing. Usually my brother is ALWAYS on Bob's side, but I knew this was one area where Mark would find it impossible to join in razzing his baby sis. I told Robert he was preaching to the wrong choir.

The family has gathered today down in southern Indiana for a semi-reunion. I ate like a pig last night at my favorite place down here. A German restaurant that has the best chicken livers in the country and apple strudel.

I was going to upload a picture but Mr. Jobs must have hated bloggers.

I WILL NOT FORGET

He's never known a pre 9/11 world.

My grandson was born in the year 2002.

And yet, he's still young enough to not know of the threat that we still face.

I don't hate anyone.

But I still don't trust. Some want to call that bigotry. That still just under the surface I do not trust Islamists.

If I am suspicious of people that belong to a faith that wishes to wipe Israel off the face of the earth, if I'm suspicious of people that plotted to kill thousands of people doing nothing more than going to work in the morning in a very tall building, if I still believe they would do it again and pray to Allah to make it worse than 9/11 and that makes me a bigot, then so be it.

Everyone grieves differently. I learned that horrible reality after my father's death.

On the anniversary of 9/11 my grief is only assuaged by wallowing in deep, white hot anger.

My grief is not right or wrong, your grief is not right or wrong. It just IS.

Some refuse to relive it. That's how they must deal with it.

For me, I must wrap myself in the memory. I have to spend time feeling it all I've again. I do not know why. It's just my way of handling it.

When I think about 9/11, I have absolutely no doubt that Satan lives today. And he breeds the hatred that inspired these evil men.

What frightens me more than that horrible day is the insistence from so many today that we are bigots if we believe the Islamic extremists are no longer a threat. That we are to turn our backs on the very people that wield box cutters so they can slice our throats again.

No, of course they do not want to harm us. No reason to think it could happen again tomorrow.

Are we safer? Probably not by much.

Where are you Jeff D? Update: Jeff D is a pathetic loser.

Since you're my ghost IP visitor I never know whether you still visit occasionally. Tonight I tried to go to your site and you were gone.

I hope that's not true, I know blogger sometimes gets site messed up.

Hope things are okay.

Update: See Diamond Dave's comment below. Jeff was a hoax.

Hey Jeff: Google Brad Paisley's song, Online. You make George Costanza seem like a success.

H.O.L.Y. COW

Someone is having a huge facepalm moment this evening.

Hurricane Watch

Our Fort Myers neighbor called and said our community was putting down sandbags and putting up the hurricane shutters.

Not to worry, our shutters are safe.....tucked away in the corner of the garage.

My Favorite Martian

My nephew posted this today on Facebook.

This "kid" makes you feel the excitement of seeing your dream come true.

Ignorance At It's Best

Just when you think government can't come up with any more ignorant ideas comes this.

Another suicidal idea from the Great State of California, specifically San Bernadino County.

I'm becoming more and more convinced we should be requiring IQ tests before running for office. ANY office.

So the geniuses holding county offices in San Stupiderino County have decided it would be a good idea to use eminent domain on property whose owners are under water in their mortgages to "save" the property values.

WTF?

So we have local governments across the nation cutting back on police and fire services because of critical budget shortfalls but we have counties in California of all places thinking they should now bail out homeowners whose houses are worth probably half of what the mortgage is.

Were these idiots dropped on their heads when they were young?

Ignoring the obvious problem of the county finding funding to buy the property in the first place, they believe they would then give the homeowner a reduced mortgage. Yes, the local government thinks they will now be in the mortgage business. Assuming the homeowner would suddenly begin paying the new mortgage (and that's a big ASSumption) these county gubmint pinheads apparently do not understand the words, cash flow. Their money is now tied up in long term investments. Extremely low interest rate long term investments. Let's imagine five years from now when rates are tripled what they are today and the county needs to borrow funds at the high rate while the mortgages might be returning 4%.

They also do not understand what will happen to the real estate market by their "solution" to the looming foreclosures.

Just what do they think will happen to very single mortgage lender in the country?

I could give them a one minute lesson in what happened when parts of Chicago passed a ruling that every mortgage applicant had to receive mandatory counciling within 7 days after applying for a mortgage.

Lenders have to process loans FAST. Delaying an application for at least a week is an eternity for a lender. As soon as that was announced the mortgage company I worked for took the zip codes involved and red-lined the area.

No mortgage would even be considered for houses within the affected areas. And every other mortgage company did the same.

If these knuckleheads in California get this done, they have just killed the real estate industry there.

There will be no bank, no mortgage company, no investor that will ever lend there again. People and companies have this quirky aversion to lending money only to have some local government use their powers to return half their investment.

If it wasn't for my friend Z I'd think the entire state is nothing but crazed whackos.

Add that to the real estate sales tax that was buried in the Affordable Care Act. If you make more than $250k a year (which would not be rich if you lived in the Golden State) there is now a 3.8% sales tax on the full sales price on the property paid by the seller. What does that have to do with health care? Not a damned thing.

No way the housing market will recover anytime soon.

I don't know these people, so this really isn't a post about politics. It's actually pretty funny. Well, I guess it wouldn't be if you were the one in the video, but it's entertaining for the ridiculousness of the subject.

Now that's gotta hurt.

H/T Hotair

Always The Bridesmaid - He Said - She Said.

One night I dreamed that I was the Matron of Honor for a friend of mine. I remember thinking it was kinda odd that I was chosen as the "First" girl since I am technically only a friend of a friend. So I wondered why our mutual friend, the best friend wasn't even in the wedding party.

I was standing up looking over the crowd for our mutual friend during the wedding, in my dream it was in the church where my niece had gotten married when I was her Matron of Honor.

It was odd enough, but even a bit more so since Jim, my friend of a friend is a guy. And he's gay.

That's always the misconception people have about Conservatives, especially Christian Conservatives.

They assume we hate gay people. I don't hate anyone. Well, Wasserman-Schultz might come close, but that's a story for another day (or not).

Anyway, after my dream, I wrote on Jim's facebook page about my dream. He found it quite amusing as did I.

Kevin worked with me for a couple years. He was a great guy, always chasing the hot chicks that were WAY out of his league. He even once asked our boss out after we quit working together. She declined.

Out of earshot Jim would INSIST Kevin was gay. He always said he had his "gaydar" out and that Kevin was gay and just wouldn't admit it. It had a bit of a ring to truth to it, though.

And, of course a couple years ago, Kevin decided he WAS gay and did come out of the closet. Jim just shook his head. Jim has been with his "husband" for years. I'm pretty sure they have never gotten legally married, but he's worn a wedding band ever since I've known him.

Both Jim and Kevin are conservative. Interesting, no?

Because Jim and Kevin are friends of mine on Facebook, I would not comment there of my opinion on the whole Chick-Fil-A fiasco. I respect both of them and did not want to have them think I was judging them. I found it interesting that neither of them or my other gay friends posted anything either. Nothing for, nothing against.

Here's what I do know.

Suppose Jim's partner's family did not approve of the relationship (hypothetical). And suppose after living together for years that Jim's partner was deathly sick. And suppose the family wouldn't allow Jim into see his partner on his death bed, or be allowed to go to his funeral.

That's just wrong, I don't care what you believe.

But.

While I believe Jim should be afforded every single right that a married man should have, I have an issue with those rights being called "marriage". My faith justs prevents that. I just can't go that far.

But I don't believe that being gay is any "worse sin" that any other. And so I will not judge Jim or Kevin or anyone else. I honestly believe they are born that way. (Please no one start with the Lady Gag Gag line.)

I don't think God is going to toss Jim and his partner into the flames of hell unless they could be prayed back into straighthood. A sin is a sin and thankfully Someone gave His life so that none of us would burn. The truth is we should all burn, right?

For Jim's sake I do wish there was a Civil Union where he and his husband could be afforded the same rights as me and my husband, but currently our state would not recognize that union. Thankfully he is not in that situation where his partner's family would ever deny him his decent human right to be with the person he has loved all these years.

So, I saw no point in broadcasting my fervent belief that Mr. Cathy has every right in the world to believe and SAY that he believes in the Biblical tradition of marriage. I didn't see my gay friends screaming about how Cathy is evil and shouldn't be allowed his freedom of speech or religion. They don't push their "agenda". They don't even seem to have an agenda.

They love who they love. And who they love does not affect my life one little bit. It's only when someone, anyone starts claiming that by expressing their belief they should be tarred and feathered and put out of business that it begins to affect my life. I chose to remain silent on the subject for the sake of my friends. They apparently decided to do the same. Or more likely they also believe in freedom of speech and religion even when it disagrees with what they believe and live. As much as I despise Westboro satanists, they have a right to their hateful speech. I have no doubt they will burn in hell while my gay friends and family will not.

Tolerance my friends goes both directions. Now let's see what He Said.

Take a Minute and Feel Good About Life

This will do it for you. Watch all the way through. Makes me wanna hug someone.

Keep Your Eye On The Ball Folks

While you're being distracted with either eating the best chicken nuggets today or saying you'll never eat at Chick-Fil-A again, something else is taking effect.

Only Catholic Churches are exempt.

That's ONLY CHURCHES.

Catholic Universities and Charities are NOT exempt. They've DELAYED charitable institutions until after the election.

So, while everyone is concerned that Chick-Fil-A is able to express their speech and religion, today anyone who believes that abortion is murder is now REQUIRED to pay for abortion producing drugs.

I won't, but I am really REALLY wanted to post one of those horrible pictures of those precious lives that have been slaughtered. Instead, I'll post a pic of the newest member of my family, my great nephew, CnC's first grandbaby.

How anyone can believe our First Amendment rights are not under attack is beyond me.

So eat the chicken or don't eat the chicken, but pay more attention that today, if you are a pro-life business owner that has self-funded insurance, you are today REQUIRED to pay the entire balance of someone else's decision of aborting a baby.

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you." Jeremiah 1:5

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances."

11 Minutes and Counting

Until the Opening Ceremonies.

So, enjoy.  (Dang it.  I uploaded the wrong video the first time).  This one's better.

Beans Don't Burn On The Grill

"Took a whole lot of tryin'.
Just to get up that hill."

Sounds like George Jefferson was an evil capitalist.

Now imagine if someone told Mr. Jefferson,

"Look, if you've been successful, you didn't get there on your own. You didn't get there on your own.  I'm always struck by people who think, 'Well, it must be because I was just so smart.' There are a lot of smart people out there. 'It must be because I worked harder than everybody else.' Let me tell you something: There are a whole bunch of hardworking people out there. If you were successful, somebody along the line gave you some help."

I applaud you George.  You DID get there on your own and you ARE entitled to enjoy that DEluxe apartment in the sky. 

"Now we're up in the big leagues,
Gettin' our turn at bat.
As long as we live, it's you and me baby,
There ain't nothin wrong with that."

No there is NOTHIN' wrong with that.

God love ya George.

(Dang it.  Andrea Tantaros beat me to this.  I wrote this the other night when Sherman Helmsley passed away and I didn't publish it.  Tonight's One More Thing on The Five included the theme song and talking about George being a capitalist.  I could have claimed she stole my idea if I had only published it first.)

My New Job Opportunity

Just received in the email today.  Yeah, I think I'll jump right on this one.

Hello,  (No, I didn't even blank out my name, there was no name after Hello)

We would like you to pay attention to the following job offer.

Our company is called Worldwide Electronic Retailing Shipper incorporated. We are currently recruiting employees to fill in the position at courier service department. We have an online department looking for employees on the internet, so if you have received this letter, that means that your CV has been seen on the web by the online recruiting department managers.


WERS inc is a European company based in Poland that provides retail sales of products(mostly modern electronic devices) and selling it to European customers. We are growing and continue to develop since 2005.

The position we offer you will include receiving the products and shipping them out.


You will be required to receive shipments via FedEx, UPS, and send through USPS.


There are no investments from your side. Company provides pre paid shipping labels. Your pay is monthly and it is $60 per each package rate with $1500 minimal guaranteed amount. After first and second month of successful cooperation, we provide the modern devices as a bonuses for each of our employees. (Apple iPhones and Mac laptops, Blackberry phones and Sony Vaio laptops).


The requirements are:


- be available to work on PC with internet access
- have day time contact phone number
- 18 years old minimum
- constant shipping address

Mostly all packages are not big and will not require any special storage place.
If you are interested, please contact us via email.

Imagine If You Will

That you are sitting at your desk one day when your assistant walks in terribly upset.

He begins to tell you a story about witnessing a horrible act, an obscene act.  One that would bring shame to your organization.  But you hesitate.

Surely your assistant is wrong, surely a guy you've known for years is not doing something so unspeakable to young boys.

So you do what your position requires. You tell your immediate boss.  And that boss decides to do nothing. 

Nothing.

That's best, right?  Why would you want to jeopardize your organization's reputation? 

But deep down, you know that's not right. 

MAYBE, perhap just maybe you might go along with that.  Assuming that the problem would not be allowed to continue.

But it does. 

And you do NOTHING to stop it.

Nothing.

Maybe you could justify one instance.  Maybe someone has a talk with the bastard who could not only do something so vile, but do it openly, in the showers of the school.  Maybe you could talk yourself into believing that it would stop.

But then you could not blind yourself to the other boys that came along.  Those that were becoming close to the monster you KNEW would rape them.

If you were a "good man".  If you were truly someone to be admired.  If you did not believe your almighty football god outweighed the evilness of permitting more rapes of innocent, needy young boys.  If you were not even a good man, but at least a decent man, an average man. 

What would you do when you realized the second boy?

What would you do when you heard another story, of someone else realizing what was going on?

What would you do when you are discussing the situation in email exchanges with your bosses?

Would you justify that you did only what was required of you?  Would you say to yourself in the mirror each morning that you should not report the incident to the cops because it would embarrass your school and ruin the school's reputation?

Would you know all that and still watch another young man's life be ripped apart and you did NOTHING?

For THIRTEEN YEARS???

Were those 111 wins THAT important to you Joe?  That you would not just sell out your own soul, but you offered up to the football god you loved so much innocent children who only needed help?

I might believe Paterno was a decent man, not a good man, but at least a normal human being IF he had said with the second boy, ENOUGH.  But he didn't.

And neither did the administration.  Or the assistants.  Or the janitors. 

NO ONE said anything.

What kind of evilness/vanity/ego must you possess to sell off more young boys to be raped in honor of the football god?

May the Good Lord have more mercy on your seemingly untortured soul, Joe.  He would have to be more forgiving than I could ever be. 

Please, for all you college football fans, do NOT tell me how unfair it to the school or the kids that were in those winning games.  They still got the "glory" of winning.  They still have their championship rings.  They just lost their "hero".  Who was never a hero at all.  He was a man who cared more about his reputation than preserving the innocence of a young boy.

I can sympathize with their loss when they realize their idolized coach was only driven by ego, but I cannot understand how they could be more upset over having their wins recorded as losses over what they must realize was the sacrificed young boys to the ultimate football god.

Visitor From Aurora

I'm not quite sure who it is, but occasionally I get a visitor from Aurora, Colorado.  I've wondered if it could be Lili, but that's just a guess since I know her IP address used to appear from Denver. 

Whoever you are Aurora, I just want to tell you that my prayers are with you and your community. 

Just devastating. 

I'll Keep An Eye Out For You

It was something I had considered numerous times, but I always dismissed it fairly quickly. 

Why would I want to spend several thousands of dollars on risking a surgery when I could have the same thing by pushing some contacts into my eyes every morning with no risk?

Listening to the details of having some laser slice into your cornea versus throwing on my Coke bottle type glasses that I had been wearing for more than 30 years left me feeling a bit icky whenever anyone I knew talked about how wonderfully they could see.

Years went by.  Technology improved. More nearsightedness was sliced into non-existence.

I got older.

And so did my eyes.  

I began wearing glasses in the 5th grade.  My first pair were the ugly cat's eye type.  But I was amazed at how clear everything was.  It was odd that words on the board and leaves on the trees were so......crisp.

Over the years my eyes grew weaker and weaker.  By 2006, my contacts were -9 and -8.  In clear sightedness terms that means I was practically blind without my glasses.  When I was 20 and we had a fire in my parents house, I actually ran back into my bedroom to get my glasses because I couldn't see enough to move around the house.

When my best friend had her eyes done several years ago, I was more intrigued than ever.  I swayed back and forth.  I weighed and assessed every option.  Even to the point of thinking that having my eyes work all on their own would be taxing, straining even.  I thought about the short periods of time I would not have contacts or glasses and think about how the fog of extreme nearsightedness was somehow comforting.

I know that probably sounds odd, but being nearly blind was also a security blanket.  Except for those times when I might have stepped out of the shower or gotten up out of bed and forgotten where I put my glasses.  At those times I would realize what an incredible handicap my eyesight was.   I could walk my way around the room, but I would have to feel along the counter or nightstand hoping my hands would touch the glasses so that the world could become focused again.

When I made the appointment for the consultation I asked Bob to go with me.  Normally I would never do that, I'm a big girl, I don't have to have my husband escort me to and fro.  But even making the appointment I was nervous.

The doc explained all the risks.  The odds of something going wrong are so incredibly low.  They have been performing Lasik hundreds of thousands of times (I'm assuming).  In all the years of knowing people who had had the procedure, I had only heard glowing reviews.

But listening to the risks was a bit more upsetting than I expected.  One of the risks was that the micro-flap they slice into your cornea not be complete, even though it's precisionally calculated by a machine.  If that was the case, they lower the flap and do not perform the procedure.  Bob asked him if they would go ahead and do the other eye if that was the case.  The doc explained that my eyes were so poor that he would not perform the procedure on one eye because the difference in sight would create a significant issue with my eyesight.

On the way home, my mind is screaming at me, "Just WHY are you considering this move when you can see perfectly with your contacts or glasses?"  Well, I had been needing to don a pair of cheap reading glasses in the past few years since my contacts were so strong and my eyes were getting so old.  But with plopping a pair of contacts in my eyes, there was virtually nothing I could not see far away

While I was pondering that question, Bob asked, "WHY do you want to do this again?"  It was a hard question to answer.

But I booked the appointment.

And one February morning in 2006, I gathered up my courage and walked into the Doctor's office to have my eyes sliced and lasered. 

My nerves were on high alert.  I longed for a doc who would have given me some mild sedative prior to the procedure, but that was not to be.

The procedure is performed in a reclining chair and I can't recall if there is something that might strap your head down to keep from moving.  I don't remember that, but it seems logical.

To ensure your eyes do not move, they drop some numbing drops and then have a circular suction ring literally lift your eyeball just slightly up from it's normal comfortable sitting position inside your eye socket.

Get the drift?

No?   Well, here's what it looks like.

That is the most uncomfortable part of the entire surgery.  It feels like your eye is gonna just pop right out.  This image doesn't accurately reflect the feeling of that ring lifting up your eyeball. 

Anyhow.

The doc lifts up my right eye.  The one with the worst vision.  One eye had horrible vision and the other was worse than horrible.  As he narratives the entire process, he begins to pull up the worse than horrible one.  The microkeratome then hovers over practicing the flap slice.  Doc thinks it looks good, and lowers the microkeratome to make the flap.  There was no real feeling, other than being a bit creeped out knowing it was slicing into my cornea (I'll be damned if I almost typed Corona. ;)  The doc then takes a light version of plastic tonges and lifts the flap.  The laser then comes over and precisely singes the cornea according to the pre-programmed prescription.

Down the flap goes and we move on.

Now comes the eye gouger.  Ooops, I mean that thingy up above that sucks up your eyeball.  The microkeratome again does a hover over the eye it's about to perform some micro-thin slice of cornea for the flap. 

Practice hover looks good, lower and slice into my left cornea.   At least I thought it sliced.  But for some reason the Doc reaches over and does a hover with the slice-o-matic over my left eye again. 

Then in the same tone of voice I hear him say, "The flap is not complete.  We'll have to do this later." 

Dead silence.

I think it was the tone of his voice that threw me off.  What?

After 10 seconds or so, he repeats, "We'll have to do this later, the flap did not cut completely."  This time the tone of his voice was different.

It had a tone of........dare I say it.....PITY.  With maybe a bit of regret/guilt thrown in.  The tone of his voice was what I grasped far greater than his words.

I remember laying there, with my eye still sucked up into that nasty eye-sucking equipment and thinking what I was hearing was not what he was saying.  I was trying to stay calm and NOT allowing myself any thought about how I might have just made the biggest mistake of my entire life.

I said very slowly, "WHAT does L.A.T.E.R mean?"  I was somehow trying to convince myself he was talking about 30 minutes, an hour, something OTHER than LATER.

He said, "About three months."

Looking back, I can tell you what I felt was probably shock.  I just took a pair of perfectly good eyeballs, sliced them both, singed the hell out of one and left the other in it's near-blinded state.

While I'm still trying to process his words, he steps on the pedal to push the reclining chair upright.  The nurse comes in, she missed all the excitement and he more or less repeats what just happened. His voice,  again was dripping with regret. 

The nurse made some sound that one makes when they hear bad news and have nothing they could possibly add to make things better.

If I had been in a better frame of mind I would have yelled at them to STOP with the pity tone.  That was so hard to hear.  And, of course I couldn't see much.  The correct eye would have a normal blurry vision for a day or so, the uncorrected one would normally be legally blind and now had some half-assed sliced flap.

They led me out of the operating room across the hall to the exam room.  I hear them call Bob into the room.

Bob's voice was light and had his normal "about to make a joke" tone.  As soon as he sits, the doc explains what happened.  Again he uses the horrible pity tone.  While I understood the doctor's regret, the tone reminded me of how the nurses talked to us after they diagnosed my dad with liver cancer.  I wanted to just run away from "needing" pity.   The doc explained that microkeratome had performed a perfect practice slice but yet did not fully open the flap when it cut.  That was why he moved the machine back over my left eye again to see if the machine was set correctly.  It had been, but it just "blinked" on the actual slice and left a half-flapped flap.

I could barely see across the room to Bob, but he just simply said, "Ohhhh." after the doc told him what happened.  The sound of that "Ohh" was like another slap in the face.  It was another sound that made me think I had just ruined my sight forever.

After the doctor explained that after the slice of the flap would heal, they could perform PRK (on top of the cornea, not under a flap) in about three months, the nurse walked me and Bob out of the office.  She said, "I'm so sorry." as we were leaving.  I was more than shocked that she "allowed" herself to say that. 

From the doctor and nurse's reactions I could tell it was very rare that things went wrong on Lasik.  I was just one of the lucky ones. 

We drove home in near silence.  I knew that I could not see out of my left eye uncorrected at all.  They had explained that I could not insert a contact into that eye for a couple of weeks.  I had a "correct" right eye which was actually only corrected to about 20/300 because it had had such poor vision prior to Lasik.  I went home to rest (recommended even IF things had been perfect) and Bob took my cell phone with him and called my family.  I didn't want to even imagine what was going through their minds. 

Without a contact in my left eye and 20/300 vision in my right, I would not be able to drive until my left eye was partially healed. 

I attempted to use my old Coke bottle glasses with the right lens pushed out to see if I could drive, but the difference in vision and the distance of the left lens made the whole world swirl around as soon as I would move. 

Bob drove me to work the next week and when I was finally able to put a contact lens into my left eye I was able to drive. 

But I couldn't SEE.  Yes, I could see enough to drive, but judging distances was horrible and the lack of perfect vision in my right eye left clear vision something I had taken for granted.

During that time, I realized that communication is not just about hearing what people say, but about what their face is doing, where their eyes are looking.  During those three months, I found myself becoming so incredibly withdrawn at work. 

Since I could not tell who I was meeting in the hall until they got close and even then I could not tell IF they were looking my direction, I just became silent.  I rarely talked to anyone, including my friends at work.  I loved trading jabs with my co-workers, but I realized that I had relied on that entire communication skill by seeing the reaction on my friends' faces.  Without that clue, I became a recluse.

Three months later, I was again strapped into that chair of hell and they lifted the right eye flap to do a bit of correction on it and they then performed the melting PRK on the left cornea.  By the next day I had vision that worked, uncorrected.  Something I had not experienced since third grade or so.  The nurse told me later that the only other problem they had ever seen in hundreds of Lasik surgery was with the wife of a prominent Indianapolis attorney.  She never said whether they sued.  The risks were graphically detailed before I ever signed on the dotted line and I read enough to know that some doctors would have just gone ahead and performed the Lasik on the BACK of the cornea flap and would have permanently impaired my vision.

Because my left eye was corrected only once, the vision far away was not perfect, but I could read without any aid.  For the last several years I used my right eye mainly for distances and my left eye for reading.  Only at dusk was it difficult for me to see out of my left eye.

A couple months ago I finally bought myself a pair of prescription glasses.  Since it's been a few years, reading was becoming difficult and the glasses help my left eye with distances.

But instead of wearing Coke bottles, I now have a pretty pair of glasses, thin lenses with hidden trifocals.  And I don't HAVE to wear them.  Not like before, when I was wrapped into a fogged cocoon of nearsightedness without glasses or contacts. 




Yeah, that IS the right lens of my old glasses.  And this was after technology allowed the lens to be "thin".  And the picture at the top of the page is my right eye after the first surgery.  The bruising is normal after being attacked by the great eye-sucker machine.


Would I do it all over again?  I'm not sure I can answer that even now.  Those three months of feeling like I had just f'd up my vision is still hard to forget.  And the lack of being me, communicating normally with friends and family was something that stays with me.

But it feels so weird even now to have good vision without aid.  And when I put on my new cool tiny glasses, I don't feel like a nerd, I feel like I'm one of those hip chicks on TV that wear glasses to look good.

OK, maybe not QUITE that like that, but a girl can dream.

Not Just Another Pretty Face

I just happened upon this when I was researching what I thought was just a silly update I posted on Facebook about Mike Rowe making all the Captains from Deadliest Catch cry during every After The Catch episode.

Just when I gave up thinking anyone on TV had a lick of sense.



And here.



I always thought Mike Rowe was one of the sexiest men on TV, but somehow he just got even sexier.  Women love a man that can fix things, but we love men who are smart even more.

And he's one of those guys that look sooooo much better in his dirty job than he does a suit.

♪ ♫ How in the heck are you gonna wash your neck ♪ ♫

Yep.



AND the well pump's out.
Don't look behind my ears Ma.

I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

This morning a guy I knew from high school posted a rant of his facebook page about the "wingers" reaction to the Supreme Court's decision last week over the "Affordable" Care Act.

His wife is severely chronically ill and without health care.  She is back in the hospital requiring surgery.

In his very nasty bashing of everyone that was against the act, he stated that his payment under the act would only be $250 a month to cover he and his gravely sick wife.  I have no idea where he got his calculation, but sadly, he honestly believes it.  Of course he would be supportive of the decision because he has no concept that covering a pre-existing condition will be so expensive he will not be able to afford it.  And on top of all that, he'll be charge a "penalty", this new tax because of it. 

Today I found an article that, although I disagree with the doctor's reasoning behind thinking the act will leave us worse off, her logic of what will happen under ACA is right on the money.

And I found the article at HuffPo of all places.  Here it is below in it's entirety.

Did John Roberts Give Mitt Romney A Gift

By Marcia Angell, MD

The Supreme Court's decision to uphold the Affordable Care Act, aka Obamacare, puts me in mind of the old proverb: Be careful what you wish for. Democrats on a victory lap should watch their step, because John Roberts may have given Mitt Romney a gift. The impact on the health system will be much smaller than the political fallout, because with or without Obamacare, the American health system will continue to unravel -- quickly if Romney is elected, slowly if Obama is re-elected.


First the policy, then the politics:

Obamacare is simply incapable of doing what it is supposed to do -- provide nearly universal care at an affordable and sustainable cost. The problem is that three years ago, in his futile efforts to win over Republicans (remember the embarrassing courtship of Olympia Snowe?), Obama gutted the law before it was even passed. He made the private insurance companies the linchpin of the new system, and promised them millions of additional customers and billions of taxpayer dollars. He also did nothing to rein in the profit-oriented delivery system that rewards providers on a piecework basis for doing tests and procedures. So with all the new dollars flowing into the system and no restraints on the way medicine is practiced, the law is inherently inflationary.

Although there are some provisions to curb the worst abuses of the insurance companies, such as excluding people with preexisting conditions, there is nothing in the law that would stop insurers from raising premiums. A senior executive of the industry's trade association, America's Health Insurance Plans, told me privately that that's exactly what the companies will do if regulations cut into their profits. Thus, costs under Obamacare will almost certainly rise even faster than at present. No reform can work well or very long if its costs are unsustainable.

In fact, it is unlikely that Obamacare will ever be fully implemented as it stands. If Romney is elected, with a Republican Congress, it will be quickly overturned. If Obama is re-elected (and I hope he is, despite my disappointment in his health plan), it will come apart more slowly. But unravel it will, as costs rise and it becomes clear that there are still tens of millions of Americans priced out of the system.

Here's how the unraveling will look:

Many of the uninsured who are subject to the mandate to purchase private insurance will choose to pay the penalty/tax instead. That will lead the insurance companies to raise their premiums, demand that the penalties be greater, or both. Deductibles and co-payments will increase to the point that many people will have insurance they can't afford to use. (This is the case in Massachusetts.) Many employers will simply stop offering health insurance, since our high unemployment means workers no longer have the leverage to demand it, or they will stop insuring dependents (thus avoiding having to cover grown children to age 26). In addition, because insurers have a strong financial incentive to evade the new regulations requiring them to take all comers, it will take a huge bureaucracy to monitor them.

Next year, states are supposed to set up insurance exchanges to pool risks and offer a menu of approved insurance plans for individuals and small businesses. But they are unlikely to be functioning by 2014, as called for in the law, either because Republican states simply refuse to set them up and hamper federal efforts to step in, or because of the administrative complexities. Some states may also refuse to accept the funds to expand Medicaid, as called for in the law, since the Supreme Court found that they could opt out without losing their existing federal Medicaid funding. Here again, the bureaucracy necessary to aid and monitor state compliance will be huge, diverting resources from health care. In addition, there are likely to be multiple legal challenges to nearly all provisions of the law.

Obamacare partially offsets the costs of federal subsidies to insurance companies and Medicaid costs by cutting Medicare reimbursement to providers. That means hospitals and other health facilities will take a hit, and many are already struggling.

So that's how it will unravel. There will be efforts to patch it up as we go along, but because Obamacare leaves our current inflationary system largely in place, they are unlikely to be successful.

Now for the politics. Even though the Supreme Court decision will have little long-term effect on our health system, the political ramifications will be great. To be sure, it's a victory for Obama, but that will be evanescent. Now the Republicans are on the offensive, and greatly strengthened by John Roberts' insistence that the mandate is a tax, not a penalty. Remember how hard Obama tried to avoid the T-word? Republicans are adept at painting Democrats as tax-happy, and Roberts has helped them to do just that. Pundits wonder what got into the Chief Justice. Was he just trying make the Supreme Court appear to be above politics, given all the recent evidence that it's not? Or did he do a favor for Romney and the Republicans?

It's very hard to read, but I think the Democrats would have been better off if the Supreme Court had overturned Obamacare, and I think it would have been better for our health system, as well. The base would be energized, and Democrats would take the offensive. More important, no one would be under the illusion that the health system has been successfully reformed, as many good liberals now are. That mistake will become clear as the system unravels. Democrats will suffer the death of a thousand cuts, rather than a quick blow that could be blamed on our politicized Supreme Court. If the law had been struck down, we could have started right away to work on an effective reform.

The only way to provide health care to all Americans at an affordable cost is by instituting some form of publicly-administered nonprofit system like those in other advanced countries. After all, they manage to provide universal care at less than half the cost, on average, and their costs are rising more slowly. I have long advocated expanding Medicare (which is a single-payer program) gradually by lowering the eligibility age one decade at a time, while phasing out for-profit health facilities and changing doctors' fees to reward primary care more and specialist care less.

On July 22, 2009, Obama said in a press conference, "Now, the truth is that unless you have what's called a single-payer system in which everybody is automatically covered, then you're probably not going to reach every single individual." Bingo. Too bad he didn't hang on to that insight, and use his rhetorical skills to make the case strongly to the American public. If he had fought for single-payer health care at the beginning of his administration, while he had both houses of Congress, and mobilized public opinion behind it, he might have made it. After all, the only thing members of Congress need more than industry money is votes.