I'll admit it. I'm pre-blogging here. If I were any kind of a semi-political blogger I'd have my laptop downstairs in front of the TV, all ready for tonight's Big Show, also known as W's seventh (*weeps piteously*) SotU address. I just can't face it. I would scream and throw things. My blood pressure would rise. And our son sleeps next to the room where we watch TV, so he wouldn't get any sleep. It's just not worth it.
But I also can't ignore it completely, especially when he hands me silver-plattery fodder like the "gold-plated health care plan." It is the perfect example of how our Dear Leader is so far out of touch with the plight of the average American as to be in another plane of existence. First, let me give him some props. He's realized that there is a problem with health care in this country. Granted, this is like applauding wildly for someone having the presence of mind to call the fire department when the flames are licking at his toes, but still. I'll bite. I'll even say, "Way to go, George! I appreciate that you recognize that there is a problem, and I look forward to hearing your ideas."
Then I heard the ideas. I know that I'm only hearing the leaks of the advance draft, but frankly, I don't see how it's going to get much better given the premise as I understand it. He lays the solution to the health care crisis at the feet of those scads of Americans--hundreds of...ummm...hundreds, I'm sure--who choose their employers' "gold-plated health care plans" just so that they can get that big, fat tax write-off.
Ignoring the fact that there can't be more than a handful of companies--we'll just leave Congress out of this, shall we?--who still offer gold-plated health coverage, one wonders how many average Joes are really picking their health care plans based on the tax write-off. If we get to choose our health care coverage--and make no mistake, that's a very big if--I would guess most of us make that decision based on what we're going to pay when our toddler gets croup, not we might be able to lop off our bill to Uncle Sam. The rest of us lucky scamps with health coverage just take what is given to us and thank our deity of choice that we at least have *some* coverage in the case of catastrophe.
The whole idea of taxing the best-covered Americans dovetails very well with another mythical beast, the Gluttonous U.S. Health Care Consumer. You know the ones who go to the doctor for a hangnail and take little Junior to the ER after a big sneeze? The ones who keep driving up our health care costs by seeing their doctors recreationally? I know that when I'm staring down a lonely night at home, the one thing that cheers me up is the thought of heading over to the hospital to put on a backless gown and answer uncomfortable questions about the size of my butt. That can only be topped by a trip to the gynecologist, really. Those stirrups are really comfy once you get used to the drafts, and my frequent exam discount makes it really affordable to go back again and again.
Who does this, really? Who--leaving aside the professional hypochondriac--goes to see a doctor if they don't have to? I'll admit that in the first few months after Connery was born I kind of looked forward to doctor's appointments--his and mine--but that was more out of a lack of adult conversation than a desire for the actual experience. I think it's safe to say that I didn't make any appointments that weren't absolutely medically necessary, because, let's face it, even if your doctor is the best conversationalist in the world, sooner or later you're going to have to drop your pants and/or hold down your screaming infant for a vaccination. And then that great fun? Pretty much over.
What we need is national health care, i.e. the kind that guarantees that a major medical crisis--or hell, even a mid-level car accident--is not going to result in a family losing their house. The kind that encourages people to see their doctors when they need to, not when they can't put it off any longer. The kind that recognizes that kids who get regular checkups are probably going to be healthier adults, and the women who get regular pap smears and/or mammograms are going to be less likely to stare down late-stage cancer. The Mythical Glutton doesn't exist. Let's accept that and move on. And taxing the few Americans who get amazing coverage, while a step in the right direction, is not going to make up for the gazillions that corporations get by off-shoring and outsourcing.
It's feeble. But then, who would be surprised to get feeble from this guy?