bizarreville

As the health care debate continued in Bizarreville, the discussion eventually turned to Tort Reform.  Truth is, the people of Bizarreville were definitely sue-happy…it was almost an official pastime where the mayor would throw out the first whiffle ball at the opening of sue season.  Seems everybody would look for any excuse to sue their friend, neighbor, or (especially) doctor in order to get something for nothing:  “Why work and slave when you can just sue your buddy, get a rich out-of-court settlement, and kick back on the back porch with with a pitcher of margaritas?”  Made sense.

But, in spite of this seemingly ideal state of things, there was a semi-lunatic fringe element bellowing about how all this was causing Health Care costs to skyrocket.  Malpractice insurance was getting so high that many doctors just said Screw It, and bailed.  One doctor got sued for $1 million because some lady’s hang nail got infected, causing her months and months of mental anguish.  The doctor replied, “I was treating you for a swollen ankle!”  But the lady said, “You should have noticed the hang nail.  That’s the trouble with you so-called ‘specialists’.”

The Legislators tried to put an Amendment on the Health Care bill to place limits on malpractice claims, which also included strict guidelines on what was/wasn’t covered.  It would no longer recognize pain/suffering claims, would limit coverage to out-of-pocket expenses, and put strong burden of proof on the claimant to show cause that a case was truly malpractice.  It would save hundreds of gazillions of dollars in phony baloney claims and bogus legal proceedings.

The legal lobby strongly objected.  The powerful Ambulance Chasers International (ACI) decried that this would give doctors free-rein to run rough-shod over our poor patients, do slip-shod meatball surgery at will, forget to take the forceps out of grammaw’s tummy after her gall bladder-ectomy.  They rolled-in poor Mr. Shlumbunk to the hearing who had gone to the hospital for a skin irritation, and ended up mistakenly getting his full package cut off by some renegade doctor, whose only comment was: “Ooops”. 

“Patients need to have recourse on these mavericks.”  And there were boatloads of hound dog lawyers ready to sniff out any crevice to make a case.  And sniff they did.  Sniff, sniff, sniff…

Meanwhile, the Doctors were appalled by these ACI loudmouth charges, and sued the lawyers over defamation of character.  But they couldn’t get any lawyers to try their case, so they filed another suit about restraint of trade/monopolistic practices.  The lawyers counter-sued when the doctors threatened: “Yeah, well, in the unlikely event that you can find an MD who will treat you, better be prepared for a full body cavity examination.”  Ouch.

The Legislators dropped Tort Reform amendments.  They realized that suing each other was just too central to the Bizarreville culture.  Plus, the lawyers were such great contributors to their political campaigns…much better than those stingy old penny-pinching doctors who threw quarters around like they were manhole covers.

Yesterday, during the mayor’s speech on the new Health Care program, there was wild cheering and booing in the crowd.  The mayor would talk about so-called Death panels for old codgers, and the young people would cheer.  He would mention free, assembly-line vasectomies, and the ladies would cheer.  He’d mention that there would be a public option, that it would only be an “option” so you could keep your current health plan, and there would be much booing among those with at least 2 licks of common sense.

But the mayor knew there was much concern about the cost of the program among the non-lobotomized fringe.  This fringe element worried that a major expansion of who gets covered and associated bureaucracy would bust the budget big time.

The mayor wanted to hit this issue head-on.  So, he stated unequivocally that, despite rumors to the contrary, there is no truth to the rumor that the program will include coverage for your pets…no cats, no dogs, certainly no hampsters or cockatoos.  No colonoscopies for your shitzus, no liver transplants for your schnauzers, no waiting in line in the ER behind a cat having a hairball incident.

But Joe Average, fuming in frustration from the mayor’s blathering, finally blurted out:  “You’re Lying!  The bill does offer coverage for pets.  I’ve read the darn thing.  There’s even funding for little bitty CAT-scan machines, new miniature gurneys, and scooper sterilization equipment.”

The mayor was a bit flummoxed, and looked puzzlingly at his aides with that “What the F@!*!” look.  Aides shrugged their shoulders, but deep inside, knew they had been caught trying to sneak one in.

Joe later apologized to the mayor for calling him a dirty rotten unscrupulous liar.  The mayor said:  “That’s all right.  Don’t worry, son, I’ve been called a liar by far better people than you.  Besides…how long have you been around involved in the political world?  You certainly must know that it is a defacto part of my job description to lie about stuff.  C’mon, don’t be so naive.  People are gonna start laughing at you behind your back if you keep showing off your greenness.  Brown-up, man.”

Joe was hounded by news reporters asking what made him decided to de-pants the mayor in public.  He thought about relaying the mayor’s job description comment, but decided to stick with the issue of how we can’t afford pet health care:  “I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want to subsidize old Rover’s erectile dysfunction meds with my hard-earned tax dollars.”

Bizarreville is about ready to offer a Public Option (PO) to its citizens so that everyone has some level of health insurance.  Leaders would really like just a single payer government-run system, but since that is not palatable with 93% of the people who are already happy with their health care, they decided to call it an “option”.  That way, you have a  choice of keeping your beloved plan, or going with the PO…or so goes the theory.

The Bizarreville leaders would normally listen to their citizens.  But in this case, the Leaders clearly know best, so they have invoked issuing the dreaded Official Bizarreville Brush-Off Proclamation, which reads:

The major businesses in Bizarreville love the PO concept.  In public, they say they love Choice, because choice/options/freedom is what has made Bizarreville great.  But in private, they laugh and laugh.  They laugh as they plot-out quickly dumping their Health Care plan, and telling their people they must go with the PO.  The cost savings are so huge that the execs are hiring new janitors just to swab-up their puddles of drooling-at-the-mouth.  One exec was quoted saying: “Yeee hawwww.  Whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop…uh huh, uh huh, uh, huh,”  before he collapsed in shear excitement.  An unnamed manager from one of Bizarreville’s largest companies, The General Deflabenator Company, said that the firm has already started processing cancellation notices with its Health provider, in anticipation of quick passage of the new bill.  “We were wondering how to get out from under these spiralling health care costs, and now the Leaders have handed us the solution on a silver platter.  Yeah, baby.”

When asked about the fact that their employees might not get as good health service, have to wait in lines, be denied certain medical treatments, etc., he responded:  “Pffft…hey man, ain’t my problem no more.  Here’s a quarter.  Go call your caring Leader.”

There have been a few protest gatherings, but they have fizzled out after Leaders started calling them Commies, Anti-Bizarros, and Kids who just need their diapers changed.  The Leaders also started taking down names, and that pretty much freaked-out the rest of the protesters.  “Guess we’ll just have to be sure and stay healthy,” said one of the citizens as she headed home.

The new warden at Arsinbarz Prison brought in a new policy of enhanced interrogation techniques for inmates who have been conspiring to bust-out of the joint.  While some of these techniques have been very controversial with the Mamby Pamby Association (MPA), the warden has stayed the course.

One of the most controversial procedures seems to be a technique they call Water/Bored.  First, they restrict the inmate to drinking only tap water…no root beer, no iced tea, no coffee, no fruit punch or energy drinks…just ice-less tap water, not even any bottled water…only water out of the tap, room temperature.  If that wasn’t enough, they then force the inmate to watch continuous reruns of Leave It To Beaver…no Lucy, no Andy, no My Momma The Car…just the Beave, 24/7.  The Beaver and water…water/bored.  Very cruel and quite unusual, frankly.

The MPA has strongly objected to this, citing that there is no one else in the civilized world that employs such a technique.  They asked the warden if he would force his own kids to drink tap water.  Naturally, the warden said he would not…but reminded the MPA that his kids were not hardened criminals.  As far as the Beaver is concerned, the warden responded:  “Come on, now, you can’t beat the hijinx of that Eddie Haskell.”

The warden says the technique clearly works, and they have been able to garner a ton of conspiratorial information that has helped foil dozens and dozens of escape plots.

Please click on the Simpli-tax tab to the right to follow the continuing drama of our CPA friends.  Part 2 has been posted.

Old Fred has continued to whine and chime about getting his own little piece of the Stimulus Bill.  Everybody knows that Fred’s Discount Hardware and Adult Bookstore has been through some hard times lately.  His customer volume took a cannonball dive when the WalMart opened across town, and the citizens realized old Fred was practicing acute hosery on them.  The Good-ole-boy Fred prices for fittings, tools, and goops were, in fact, the Anti-Discount, prompting clergy to perform retail exorcism in the store.  Bizarreville faithful soon gave Freds the 1-finger sayonara, and logged him off.

But Fred, ever the entrepreneur, kept moving forward by expanding into other weird niche offshoots and kooky inventage.  He stocked the first doorbell which employed smell instead of sound.  He insourced fertilizer development and packaging.  He taught Plunger classes in the back office to anyone needing a refresher.  He promoted “Overalls Thursdays”, no T-shirt required.  There was no end to his cleverness.

But in spite of all these seemingly brilliant, innovative product extensions, Fred’s sales tanked, and he started losing moolah.  Of course, he claimed the whole economic slowdown constipated his ability to pay bills, which ultimately caused suppliers to put liens on his bins of nuts and crates of other fastening units.

When he went to Screwbird Bank & Trust to try and get some relief, he found out that the bank had just gotten a $100K government bailout to stay afloat…but would not lend Fred one red cent.  They told Fred that his business model stunk, and that the odor was not just the wafts from his compost pile out back.  Said his sales strategy looked like it was written by a 3rd grader, which ironically is exactly how far Fred made it in school.  Fred got so frustrated that he flatulated in a fuss and stormed out in a cloud of noxiousness.

We all hope that Fred gets his bailout.  If he doesn’t they say they will tear his building down.  And there’s a lot of folks who hope that won’t happen for various undisclosed reasons.

Flunkmann showed up at the Bizarreville Chevy/Olds dealer over the weekend, sputtering along in his legendary AMC Pacer, and looking for a quick trade-in on the Cash-for-Clunkers program.  None of the regular sales shmoes came to meet him, so Mr. Skimjob, the manager approached.

“Isn’t that the car that won the recent award by a big insurance company as the worst car ever produced?  (sniff, sniff)  Yes…yes…I thought I smelled a herd of elephants passing by.  I’m sorry, Flunkmann, but your Pacer won’t qualify for the new program.  Unfortunately for you, your dreamboat was dubbed a “clunker” when it was first introduced over 30 years ago.  Was one of few cars to achieve Clunker status while still on the showroom.  But now, it is officially classified as a “sub-clunker”, along with its friends the Chrysler LeBaron, the Ford Pinto, and the Yugo.  I mean, it’s the original little douche coupe, brother.  Sorry.”

But Flunkmann replied: “You must be kidding.  My Pacer is at just as good as that…that…what is that car over there, the one caked in grime…the filthmobile over there?  Is that a “new” Oldsmobile on your lot?”

“Yes, a 2004 model…really quite a good buy.  Been on the lot for 5 years, ever since they stopped making Olds.  Actually, funny enough, that Olds qualifies as a Clunker since the whole company went defunct recently.  I had to strip the old nameplate and replace it with that “Mo Liq” plate when they changed their name to Motors Liquidation Company last month.  Pretty stylish logo, huh?  Listen, we could clean that WASH ME graffiti off the back window, scrape off the 5-layer lasagne of layered muck, goo, and scuz, see if it still starts, and sell it to you…then you could turn it right back in as a Clunker.  They’ll haul it off to the meltdown yard by close of business.”

“You want to sell me a disgusting hunk of pig iron, just so I can turn it back in?”

“I suppose you could just buy it and drive it…only problem is there aren’t any Mo Liq dealers to service it, when it breaks down.  You’d be essentially on your own, up Shozbot Creek without the proverbial paddle.  Either way…up to you.  Whaddya say…can I put you in that baby this afternoon?”

Flunkmann just walked away.  He would have driven away, but the Pacer overheated while he was waiting.  Strangely, the motor wasn’t even running when it overheated.

No good story of town life would be complete without a good old-fashoned drama series.  And Bizarreville is no different.  Well…maybe a little different.  Our first story series starts when a couple of our town’s notable bean-counters attended a CPA confab in Vegas recently.  The keynote was about tax simplification.  Remember, of course, in Bizarreville the word “simplification” would be considered either a slur or a curse word, depending on your faith.  Let’s see how our guys begin to deal with this obnoxious impending threat.  Please click on the Simpli-Tax page on the Right Sidebar ——>

The good citizens of Bizarreville dragged their weary cans into the much anticipated Town Hall meeting to discuss Odrama-care last night.  Congressman Rankeester adroitly fielded questions like an old putz juggling medicine balls with one hand tied behind his back.

Elmer Scroof asked:  “What about them so-called Death panels?” 

Rankeester replied: “I’m for them.  Let’s face it, when it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”

Scroof said: “What about you?  You had a freakin’ quad-bypass a year ago.  What if some glorified restroom attendent decided you weren’t worth 2 squirts of dog pee, and let you just have a thumper-clutcher, and pfffft….gone.  What about that, Jack?”

Rankeester replied:  “You obviously have not taken the time to be thorough before making such an uninformed comment as this.  Admit it…you farted-off reading the bill, didn’t you?  You and all your crazy nutbag lunatic friends are here just to create ficticious perversions of this fine bill, this crafted work of art.  If you had taken one lousy weekend to read the bill, you surely would have known that it does not apply to congresspeople.  Tsk, tsk.”

Then old Mrs. Shmelker blurted out: “You people are trying to ruin the health of all our grandchildren with this new program…what do you call it…McPathetic Care, of one-size fits all?  They won’t ever get any real care cuz of the long waiting lines.”

But Rankeester just laughed and snorted back: “These kids are already hard-wired to stand in endless long lines.  Just look at the lines at the Bizarro-Land theme park.  They’ll stand in line for hours just for 1 ride on the Skrote Floater roller coaster, or the Desnotter Simulator.  C’mon now.  We’ll just give old Doc Quackenheimer’s office a cool, thrill name like the Navel Jerker, and line ’em up in the cattle gates…Mooo…Mooo.   Next?

The Town Hall meeting seemed to run out of steam at that point, and all went home for their evening soaks.

Welcome to Bizarreville, a place where wrong may be right and right may be wrong, and you may just never know which is which.  We will brighten your day with fresh satire, biting sarcasm, and irreverent humor. Enjoy your trip.