3/19/2010, 5:47 pm
Dear Editor of The People's Cube:
I have never written a letter to the editor before, but as a concerned citizen I feel I must write to you now to tell you, in my very own words, why I think it's so important that we absolutely must have health care reform now. For if not now, when?
As an informed citizen, I have studied this vital issue from all sides, and on my own I have concluded the following facts:
A new federal study shows that health care spending rose to an estimated $2.5 trillion in 2009, or $8,047 per person—and is now projected to nearly double by 2019.
If we don't act, this growing burden will mean more lost jobs, more families pushed into bankruptcy, and more crushing debt for our nation.
This isn't a problem we can kick down the road for another decade—or even another year.
We are incredibly close to passing real health reform. I stand with President Obama in calling on Congress to finish the job.
Too many in Washington are now saying that we should delay or give up reform entirely, but Americans understand the stakes for our economy and our lives, and that we want action.
And now I would like to tug at your heartstrings with some true life stories of my fellow comrades who continue to suffer because they do not have health care and are in too much pain to speak up for themselves . . .
~
I speak of comrades such as Laika the Space Dog, who's been orbiting the earth without any health care since 1957, and can't even get basic coverage for a routine worming, let alone a flea and tick bath. Why? The insurance company says Laika's work in outer space makes her too much of a risk to insure, not to mention they require her to have been a resident of the continental U.S. for at least five years.
I'd also like to introduce you to someone very special. Ivan Betinov has made the ultimate sacrifice for The Party, donating all his organs but one—his brain. He's now forced to live all his days and all his nights in a jar, soaking in a special solution to keep his brain from drying out and shriveling up like the ugly old hag who used to be his girlfriend. They were going to get married but were forced to break up after HER insurance company told her he could never be covered under her plan because of the company's own discriminatory policy: They actually told her that marriage was only between a man and a woman, not a brain and a woman. Also, Ivan needs a new jar since the current one has a crack he received when someone assaulted him with a shovel. Alas, his own insurance company just sent him a letter informing him he will have to pay for his own glass jar. But all he can afford is an eight ounce Buzz Lightyear tumbler, and even then he has to go to McDonald's and buy a Happy Meal to get it "free"—and that's only while supplies last.
There's also my good friend Leninka, who must endure painful laser treatments to keep her face dark-skinned and free of whiskers. Yet her heartless insurance company sees no reason why she shouldn't let herself go white simply because there are plenty of white people walking around, and that she should let her whiskers grow, pile on a few pounds, and seek employment with the circus as a bearded fat lady. Well, Leninka would, and the circus even said it would be more than happy to hire her, but there's just one little problem with that: The circus has no health plan for its employees, who aren't even organized into a union!
Or how about Comrade Whoopie, who suffers from painful headaches, fainting spells, and long speeches of rambling gibberish because of an ice-axe stuck in his head? He has been in touch with a Dr. Leopold Schattenburg of Grindelwald, Switzerland, who has offered to perform a simple procedure to remove the ice-axe. But to do so, Whoopie must travel to Dr. Schattenburg's private clinic in Grindelwald, because that's where the doctor has all the equipment necessary to perform the procedure, and he can't bring any of it into the United States because of TSA rules about box cutters and other sharp objects. Moreover, Whoopie's health insurance will not pay for his life-saving trip to Switzerland. Also, in a cruel catch-22 inherited from the Bush Administration, TSA will not give Whoopie clearance to board any aircraft.
And then there's dear, sweet Margaret, who recently visited a so-called "private" Jiffi-Lobo run by one Dr. Chicago, who actually deigned to think there was profit to be made in performing illegal, back alley jiffi-lobos without government regulation, or paying the appropriate fees and taxes to the government for a proper government license. A recent investigation revealed that Dr. Chicago's "customer base" consists of poor, frightened women like Margaret who have nowhere else to go, because no insurance company out there will pay for them to have safe, legal, rare procedures performed at government approved Jiffi-Lobos. Additionally, we have video in the vault that shows Dr. Chicago offering Margaret free Jiffi-Lobos for life, if she would volunteer at least sixty hours a week as an "upstairs receptionist" at Marshal Pupovich's Party Pleasure Palace.
Finally, there's my fine feathered friend, Red Rooster. He's been suffering painful constipation and hemorrhoids ever since he was asked to lay large, ostrich-sized Faberge eggs to prove his innocence, worthiness, and progginess in a Party show trial. Surprisingly enough, his insurance company offers full coverage for surgery to remove severe hemorrhoids related to work or Party service—yet not so surprisingly, they refuse to pay for HIS surgery, and why? Because of their insistence that (a) Roosters can't lay eggs, (b) even if Roosters could lay eggs, they couldn't lay ostrich-sized eggs unless they happened to be an Ostrich, and (c) Faberge eggs are handcrafted by master jewelers, not laid by any bird, rooster or otherwise. Therefore, due to his insurance company's cold-blooded nitpickiness, his claim of Party service-related constipation and hemorrhoids is null and—if you'll pardon the expression—void.
I have forwarded a copy of this letter to President Obama, to whom I would say this: Mr. President, I speak for the above comrades because they are in too much pain to speak for themselves. And because they are too proud to ask for your help when you have given them so much already. However, be assured that all are willing to fly anywhere in the U.S. at anytime, to stand by your side at any health care rally where you may appear, and share their courageous, heart rending testimonials of insurance abuse with the swooning, adoring masses.
I hope this letter will encourage others to share their own stories of anguish and hopes for triumph over evil. I have written from my heart, not because any organization told me to, and certainly not because I was paid by any organization. But because I care.
Thank you for giving me this opportunity to raise awareness of the need to touch and ultimately change the hearts and minds of millions.
Hopefully changing yours,
Pinkie
I have never written a letter to the editor before, but as a concerned citizen I feel I must write to you now to tell you, in my very own words, why I think it's so important that we absolutely must have health care reform now. For if not now, when?
As an informed citizen, I have studied this vital issue from all sides, and on my own I have concluded the following facts:
A new federal study shows that health care spending rose to an estimated $2.5 trillion in 2009, or $8,047 per person—and is now projected to nearly double by 2019.
If we don't act, this growing burden will mean more lost jobs, more families pushed into bankruptcy, and more crushing debt for our nation.
This isn't a problem we can kick down the road for another decade—or even another year.
We are incredibly close to passing real health reform. I stand with President Obama in calling on Congress to finish the job.
Too many in Washington are now saying that we should delay or give up reform entirely, but Americans understand the stakes for our economy and our lives, and that we want action.
And now I would like to tug at your heartstrings with some true life stories of my fellow comrades who continue to suffer because they do not have health care and are in too much pain to speak up for themselves . . .
~
I speak of comrades such as Laika the Space Dog, who's been orbiting the earth without any health care since 1957, and can't even get basic coverage for a routine worming, let alone a flea and tick bath. Why? The insurance company says Laika's work in outer space makes her too much of a risk to insure, not to mention they require her to have been a resident of the continental U.S. for at least five years.
I'd also like to introduce you to someone very special. Ivan Betinov has made the ultimate sacrifice for The Party, donating all his organs but one—his brain. He's now forced to live all his days and all his nights in a jar, soaking in a special solution to keep his brain from drying out and shriveling up like the ugly old hag who used to be his girlfriend. They were going to get married but were forced to break up after HER insurance company told her he could never be covered under her plan because of the company's own discriminatory policy: They actually told her that marriage was only between a man and a woman, not a brain and a woman. Also, Ivan needs a new jar since the current one has a crack he received when someone assaulted him with a shovel. Alas, his own insurance company just sent him a letter informing him he will have to pay for his own glass jar. But all he can afford is an eight ounce Buzz Lightyear tumbler, and even then he has to go to McDonald's and buy a Happy Meal to get it "free"—and that's only while supplies last.
There's also my good friend Leninka, who must endure painful laser treatments to keep her face dark-skinned and free of whiskers. Yet her heartless insurance company sees no reason why she shouldn't let herself go white simply because there are plenty of white people walking around, and that she should let her whiskers grow, pile on a few pounds, and seek employment with the circus as a bearded fat lady. Well, Leninka would, and the circus even said it would be more than happy to hire her, but there's just one little problem with that: The circus has no health plan for its employees, who aren't even organized into a union!
Or how about Comrade Whoopie, who suffers from painful headaches, fainting spells, and long speeches of rambling gibberish because of an ice-axe stuck in his head? He has been in touch with a Dr. Leopold Schattenburg of Grindelwald, Switzerland, who has offered to perform a simple procedure to remove the ice-axe. But to do so, Whoopie must travel to Dr. Schattenburg's private clinic in Grindelwald, because that's where the doctor has all the equipment necessary to perform the procedure, and he can't bring any of it into the United States because of TSA rules about box cutters and other sharp objects. Moreover, Whoopie's health insurance will not pay for his life-saving trip to Switzerland. Also, in a cruel catch-22 inherited from the Bush Administration, TSA will not give Whoopie clearance to board any aircraft.
And then there's dear, sweet Margaret, who recently visited a so-called "private" Jiffi-Lobo run by one Dr. Chicago, who actually deigned to think there was profit to be made in performing illegal, back alley jiffi-lobos without government regulation, or paying the appropriate fees and taxes to the government for a proper government license. A recent investigation revealed that Dr. Chicago's "customer base" consists of poor, frightened women like Margaret who have nowhere else to go, because no insurance company out there will pay for them to have safe, legal, rare procedures performed at government approved Jiffi-Lobos. Additionally, we have video in the vault that shows Dr. Chicago offering Margaret free Jiffi-Lobos for life, if she would volunteer at least sixty hours a week as an "upstairs receptionist" at Marshal Pupovich's Party Pleasure Palace.
Finally, there's my fine feathered friend, Red Rooster. He's been suffering painful constipation and hemorrhoids ever since he was asked to lay large, ostrich-sized Faberge eggs to prove his innocence, worthiness, and progginess in a Party show trial. Surprisingly enough, his insurance company offers full coverage for surgery to remove severe hemorrhoids related to work or Party service—yet not so surprisingly, they refuse to pay for HIS surgery, and why? Because of their insistence that (a) Roosters can't lay eggs, (b) even if Roosters could lay eggs, they couldn't lay ostrich-sized eggs unless they happened to be an Ostrich, and (c) Faberge eggs are handcrafted by master jewelers, not laid by any bird, rooster or otherwise. Therefore, due to his insurance company's cold-blooded nitpickiness, his claim of Party service-related constipation and hemorrhoids is null and—if you'll pardon the expression—void.
I have forwarded a copy of this letter to President Obama, to whom I would say this: Mr. President, I speak for the above comrades because they are in too much pain to speak for themselves. And because they are too proud to ask for your help when you have given them so much already. However, be assured that all are willing to fly anywhere in the U.S. at anytime, to stand by your side at any health care rally where you may appear, and share their courageous, heart rending testimonials of insurance abuse with the swooning, adoring masses.
I hope this letter will encourage others to share their own stories of anguish and hopes for triumph over evil. I have written from my heart, not because any organization told me to, and certainly not because I was paid by any organization. But because I care.
Thank you for giving me this opportunity to raise awareness of the need to touch and ultimately change the hearts and minds of millions.
Hopefully changing yours,
Pinkie