Canada Has a Better Health Care System Because If You're Canadian You Get Cheaper Care in America than Americans Do

So I'm watching Fox News this morning and the number two top story after the number one which was "Did You Notice We're Broadcasting in Widescreen Format Now?" (I hadn't, by the way, until they mentioned it - about every seven minutes during the forty of my viewing time - mind you) was yet another Canadian who had to come to America for health care. Fox in the past few months has displayed an endless parade of Canadians and Europeans in front of their viewing audience to prove that our system of health care is superior to anyone else's.
So this guy in Ontario waits for an MRI, finally goes to the US to get one and the MRI shows he has a brain tumor. Now he has to wait MONTHS to see a surgeon back in Canada. (We get it; it takes a long time to procure medical treatment in Canada. Keep beatin' that horse)! So he decides to go to Buffalo to get his tumor removed. Viola! He's cured thanks to the Greatest Health Care System in The World! End of story. But not quite.
The whole time I'm wondering how much brain surgery costs and where did he get the money to pay for it? When the news outlet finally devoted an additional 90 seconds to provide the in-depth story (you know, aside from the 10 second teaser they had the bubblehead reading off the tele-prompter every so often for the previous 30 minutes) they finally get down to costs. It turns out that the Canadian man got his brain surgery at a Buffalo NY hospital through a "broker" (HUH?) and it only cost him $28,000. According to the Fox News Johnny-on-the-spot reporter, "This would cost upwards of $100,000 if you or I were getting it through our health insurance plan."

[I have to pause here because this infuriates me even now. It's a wonder I even still have a television. See, at home we have these coasters made out of stone with little fly-fishing lures painted on them. They're essentially four-inch square, 1/4 inch thick rocks. And the sofa is only about eight feet away from the 42" LCD screen. Anyway, back to the topic-]

WWHHHAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?!?
THAT'S the story folks. I was waiting for the pleasant-looking anchor of the "Equitable and Impartial" redundancy network to delve into the world of these surgery brokers and explain to me why a foreign national can come into my country and get a 72% discount on a medical procedure. It never happened. It was more important for them to ask their audience if anyone had noticed anything different about their look. Remember the widescreen format? Yeah, I had forgotten as well. Because I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I live in a country with the Greatest Health Care in the World but the only way I can have affordable access to it is if I renounce my citizenship, move to Canada and then come back down here to obtain it through a broker. Best of all, the guy is suing the Canadian Government for his $28,000 back.

I had to go to work immediately after viewing this on TV. I'm not one to clog up bandwidth with mindless OMG! "Twits" and "Facebooking" (I just do it here) so I decided to pick it up when I came home. However, I couldn't find the story on Fox News' website! This means one of two things 1) my search skills are weak, and they are admittedly so, but I'm going with the other option, 2) Fox BURIED the story! And well they should have. They wouldn't want all their tea-party-totalling senior minions to find out that PEOPLE FROM CANADA GET CHEAPER AMERICAN HIP REPLACEMENT SURGERIES THAN THEY DO!!! Jeez, if word about that got out people might actually think that there's something inherently WRONG with the accessibility and distribution of health care in this country.

Furthermore, if media outlets want to compare health care systems and round up people to prove their misguided opinions, lets examine each case carefully to get a proper perspective. I mean, let's compare apples to apples right? For instance, several months ago there was a Canadian woman on the news touting her personal horror story about Canadian socialized medicine. I forget the details and I honestly wasn't paying that much attention, but I did decide to fire up the computer and do a little digging at the time. It turned out that the woman was a waitress in a little diner outside of Ottawa. Interesting. Because, here in America, the likelihood of a waitress in a small mom and pop diner even having health insurance in the first place is, well, I don't feel like typing all the zeros after the decimal point in that statistical percentage. Without insurance, she probably would have never been able to afford (given the crappy tips most people leave waitresses in diners) to see a doctor in the first place. Whatever was wrong with her very likely would have gone undiagnosed to the point of it being untreatable. It's unfortunate she had to wait so long to see a doctor for free. But the reality is that her American counterpart may never have the ability to pay for it.

The guy with the brain tumor I spoke of above is named Lindsay McCreith. He is said to have worked in the auto body business. A cursory internet search resulted in no labor unions specifically representing auto body workers; not that there aren't any, but let's just say that if Lindsay McCreith lived in the US he would not belong to a union and wouldn't have the fat benefits that they offer. Now, since most auto-body shops are small businesses, there's a good chance that his employer would be unable to offer health insurance. Even if it was available, it probably wouldn't be the small co-pay, free ride that those like the executives at Ford or AIG are blessed with. It would probably be the high-deductible, low- yearly-maximum benefit sham of a policy I would call a "discount plan."

Mr. McCreith would very likely have had to pay much of the $100,000 bill (remember, he's a US citizen now, he has to pay full price). Or if he was covered and his crappy insurance company was unable to find some kind of loophole to deny coverage, they could just drop him for the simple fact that they had to pay the bill. And heaven forbid something had happened with his coverage in between diagnosis and treatment ... that would be a pre-existing condition! No one would underwrite that man's head for at least a year. Might as well live in Canada.

I don't want to rail on the McCreith guy. God bless him. I'm glad, for his sake, that an American doctor and hospital were willing to offer him such a steep discount on his life-saving surgery. I'm glad he has the option to file a lawsuit against his government to recover the $28,000 he was fortunate enough to have had due to his wife's inheritance. You'll never see even a DYING American be able to sue the US government because they couldn't afford their life-saving surgery.

He and all Canadians are lucky to have a broker like Timely Medical Alternatives (www.timelymedical.ca) which is able to negotiate such a surprisingly affordable (I mean, compared to what you or I or our Insurance company would have to pay) rate for Canadians to access the American Health Care system. Wow, I wish there was something like that in AMERICA!

Actual response to a C-list posting:

There are three gross grammatical errors in the first two and a half sentences of this listing. You go on to say you will pay one dollar and fifty cents per four hundred words proofread. You're a joke. Have fun with the illiterate college sophomore who actually takes this assignment seriously. You get what you pay for. (By the way, you owe me 11.15 cents). Uh oh! I can do math too! And yours doesn't add up!

I sincerely hope you are not in the business of educating young minds in the course of proper writing. Though it sounds like you are as you expect your proofreaders "to point out the weak and strong points in their work and give them your advice on how to improve it. "
Here's my advice, and this is free: please don't go anywhere near another human being who is actually trying to get an education. Stay away from anyone who has a brain and is earnestly looking to make their mark on society.

I hear ACORN might have some openings for someone of your caliber at this point in time.

Shame on you for trying to get some woefully poor schmuck on craigslist to do your job for you.

Retirement Blows

Believe it! I've retired from the ranks of mixing monkeys that inhabit the "other side of the bar." I haven't poured a beer, opened a wine bottle or mixed a mojito (thank merciful heavens) for anyone other than myself or personal company for almost three months now. I awake before noon, my feet don't hurt and I haven't recently found myself drinking Jaegermeister and orange soda at some chick's apartment at 4 in the morning. Though I have to admit, I do somewhat miss the latter.
I decided that bartending - the way I like to do it anyway, fast and furious with precise timing and driven purpose - is a young person's game and that I, not so much anymore in my twenties, am no longer fit to play.

The problem is I forgot one small aspect of retirement. Saving for it. Crap! It costs money to live and when you're not working, and have no retirement income, living becomes quite difficult. You can't answer the telephone and you resort to parallel parking your car between the shed and the camper to avoid the repo man- or so I'm told. The truth is, even if I had properly planned for retirement, I most likely would have invested my money in something stupid like Bernie Madoff, GM stock or pogs.

So now I'm reminded of the words of Ignatius J. Reilly, " . . . a vicious fate it was to be: now he was faced with the perversion of having to GO TO WORK." I find myself poised to enter the real world, obtain a career, play office politics (where I will remain fiercely Independent) and kiss some booty.

Since I haven't typed up a real resume in at least 10 years, I ended up yanking open the bottom drawer of my old metal filing cabinet in the basement, my fingers dancing over such random folder tabs as "Undergrad Thesis," "Thoughts & Quotes," and "Feminist Poetry Criticism" until I came upon "Resumes & Cover Letters." Apparently I saved a copy of every cover letter I sent out accompanying resumes, and some I didn't. That's where I found this gem:



That's the real me! That's the self I know and love. So while I earnestly flood the inboxes of HR people, managers and even suspicious craigslist posters from Philly to Lancaster with carefully crafted letters of my achievements and skills, objectives and work history; I won't forget for one minute that the goal is to be doing something I love. Something that matters. Something that won't make me crack the monitor in my cube with my skull. But for now, there are bills to pay.
Off I go!

Economy? What about econ-o-ME?!

"If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to."
- Dorothy Parker

She's my new hero. And not just because she possessed fantastic quick wit, was a sloppy drunk and knew she was better than most of the swine on the planet, but also ... ummmm ... because ... well ... ahhh ... I'll let you know when I catch up with her!

I'm unemployed. And no, I'm not pregnant again. It wasn't on purpose this time; not having a job I mean. Really, I'm NOT pregnant again. I've been hoping for some kind of circumstance to light a fire under my ass so as to seek more gainful, realistic employment, but really?! Like this? Now I have to abandon my search for a real job and get another bartending job. And the whole cycle will begin anew.

Maybe my job didn't matter. Most of our jobs don't really matter if you think about it. But we've always had them and that's what has kept our economy chugging along. "Jobs. Jobs. Jobs. Consume. Consume. Consume!" We all need to have such great jobs because we have to buy stuff that we don't really need in order to keep other people employed so they can have money to buy things that they don't really need in order to keep other people employed, and it goes on, ad infinitum.

I'm sick to death of hearing about how the government has to "create jobs." How do you do that, by the way? If I could "create jobs" I would snap my fingers and be working tomorrow morning! Hungover. But I'd be there. You think the federal government can do it any easier? Once you start whining to the government that they need to create jobs you get nothing but a vast wasteland of red tape and some mortifyingly retarded piece of legislation like ... like .. that .. oh shit! It passed, didn't it? And got signed into law!

Oh! Then, well, I'll be fine now won't I? Never mind; everything will be great! After I sign up for unemployment tomorrow I'll march into Arlen Specter's office (with some Starbuck's, cause I can brown-nose like that!) and tell him that I am ready for that job he "created" for me! Don't worry, I'll have my handy red-tape cutting scissors with me. Yeah, the same ones the politicians use to cut all the ribbons. By the way, those scissors used to be made in a factory in Indiana, but now thanks to Tom Delay, they are made by nine-year old girls in China who dip the handles in lead paint and 10% of the profits go to Kim "I'm so ronery" Jung-Il so he can try to point ICBM's at us.

Isn't the economy wonderful?

The Bash 2008, abridged

Abridged only because this won't be a full account of the night, er, weekend.
All I can say is I saw a bunch of people from all over.
There was drinking and darts.
Shots and shuffleboard.
I was very busy and managed to make some coin for a change.
But most importantly, I have to post these pictures, as promised, for Otis.

#1- Team Al celebrating the Car Bomb Relay Race



#2 - Al & Otis before a one-on-one Car Bomb Grudge Match



#3 - Otis waiting for Al to finish, guess we all know who won that one!



Minutes later, I observed a visibly shaken "chick with the band" walk upstairs where Crystal Roxx was setting up. She had been sent downstairs to ferry a message to Al. Anthony, the Drummer asked her "What did Al say?" She just shook her head and stammered,
"I...I didn't get a chance to ask him. They-they're doing shots. Car Bombs. Lots of Car Bombs. Like one after another. I...I don't understand."

Ef Criss Angel

I made money in Vegas last Sunday while I WAS IN PENNSYLVANIA! Beat that, bitches! (Not sure if the small fortune was made at the Luxor, though). One number. 36 to 1 odds. Unfortunately my luck ran out after that. I received a frantic call asking for more numbers but none of them quite panned out. I suck at gambling. I once took $400 down to Atlantic City and blew it all in 15 minutes. And that was shortly after I and my friends pulled up to the valet at the Taj Mahal in a catalytic converter-challenged Cadillac that I'm pretty sure was older than myself, spewing exhaust all over the Jaguar behind us. CMT should do a "My Big Fat Redneck Gambling Excursion" show. I'm just not into financial risk. Physical danger, that's my thing. More later, I have to go to work.

Didja ever wonder why . . . ?

Am I really starting to sound like Andy Rooney?
Oh, that's just awful.
Am I starting to look like him?
I hope not.
And I'm not trying to buck for his job or anything, but, well, perhaps I can "fill the screen" in a way that can captivate the 45-75 year old white male audience in a way that 60 Minutes has never seen before, but I digress.
Seriously, in looking at online social networks in recent weeks, it seems to me that Myspace is trying to be a lot more "Facebook" these days and that Facebook is trying to be a lot more "Myspace" at the same time. I really don't get either of them but I have accounts on both.
Isn't it kinda weird though that each is trying to be more like the other? Myspace started as a social network for musicians but opened up to anyone. Because apparently there are millions of people who listen to music yet are not aspiring performers. I'm only one, but I've heard there are many more. Facebook started up as a college networking tool and then they, too, started opening up membership to everyone. From what I understand, many Facebook members were really upset about the fact that the network would become open to non-college students. Apparently, they hadn't been alerted to the fact that they would one day GRADUATE from college and if, by definition, one couldn't be a member without a college e-mail, that would leave them in the dust. Huh, huh, college. So here we are.
I don't really have a point to pontificate upon, just wondering if there was anyone else out there was picking up on the irony of all this. Because I can't make head nor tails out of either my myspace or my facebook account. Is there a "grownup social network" that isn't as boring as my 83-year-old great aunt? I've heard of Trig and other artsy, writer-type forums but haven't found anything that suits me. Discuss . . .