The Country is Sick

It has been a week now since returning from my month in the States and of the myriad of wonderful conversations and experiences and reunions, one topic has stuck in my mind: health care. Maybe it is because I came back home to a letter telling me my application for a “cure” had been approved by the national health insurance. That means that I will be spending three weeks in a “cure spa” in the mountains near Salzburg exercising with trainers, getting physiotherapy, eating healthy, and learning to replace my bad old sedentary habits with better and healthier ones. And yes, the whole thing is covered. My copay comes to $9.35 per day.

There are other reasons that health care in the States has been on my mind. In conversations with friends and family, the subject came up often. A lot of us are nearing or at retirement age, slowly winding down our careers and making decisions about “the right time to go”. In the case of two couples, the husbands were working into their 70s – putting off retirement till the day their wives qualify for Medicare. Another woman wanted to stop working and had saved enough of a nest egg to do so – she just couldn’t afford the private health insurance in the interim. One woman who was basically self-insured through her own business talked about how much those costs ate into the company’s earnings. Two more women – one with a pre-existing condition and another with a special needs child – knew that losing their jobs would have more than mere ripple effects – it would mean a financially ruinous tsunami washing over them.

“People like the health insurance they get through their employers.” How many times have I heard that statement since the start of the health care debate way back in the Clinton era? 100 times? 500? 5000? And I have never understood it. I know very few people with 100% job security, so if the employer decides whether or not you continue to have a job, don’t they also decide whether or not you continue to have health insurance? Doesn’t that yoke you to your place of employment and limit your own freedom and self-determination?

The last school year was not the best for me. There were even times when I considered leaving – to the point where we had a mini family conference about it. It would have meant bridging the last two and half years of my professional life with other “unofficial” work (tutoring, translating, etc.), but what to do about health insurance was not one of the considerations. I find myself wondering now what my situation would have been, if I were on my own and in the States . . .

 

https://smartasset.com/taxes/wisconsin-paycheck-calculator#eOxo4LJPs8

I decided to make myself a fictional 57 year old single woman with no dependents, living in Milwaukee and earning $50,000 a year. A nifty paycheck calculator online told me that I would end up with $3,196 a month to live on. Ouch! That seemed pretty low. I thought Americans paid a lot less in taxes, but this was only slightly more than the Austrian equivalent of this fictional woman would take home. In her case, about $700 a month would be skimmed off the top to pay for her health care and pension.

 

From there, I went to the Healthcare.gov website. After first figuring out what “deductibles”, “out of pocket” and “copays” meant, I entered my fictional information and clicked on “See Plans”. Of the 24 options, here were two at the opposite ends of the spectrum:

The cheapest Bronze Plan – “only” $709 a month. (Gasp!) But if I understand deductibles correctly, I would have to pay my own medical bills up to the tune of $650 a month before the insurance ever kicked in. So . . . why am I paying the additional $709??

 

The best of the Gold Plans. If I’m doing the Math right, I could technically afford this one with my $3200 monthly take-home pay – that is, as long as I never go to a doctor. Or take any medicine. Or own anything requiring maintenance. Or go on vacation. Or eat out.

Again. I don’t understand.

People protested last year to save this system. They camped out at congressional offices and marched on streets with signs saying “Don’t take my health care away”. They clearly supported this system in which they pay what seems like exorbitant prices to keep insurance and pharmaceutical companies profitable. I assume many of their employers have to pay such high prices too. It must make the cost of labor a burden on their bottom lines, which in turn incentivizes downsizing, relocating, outsourcing and all of the other euphemisms for “You’re fired!”

Navigating this system, making financial or life decisions based on this system, being constantly worried about losing this system . . . that all must create a great deal of stress in people. Anxiety too. Sleepless nights. Depression. All things that can lead to other, more serious illnesses . . . but never fear! The pharma industry is on it! Whatever your problem is, they’ve got a pill for that. What’s that? You don’t know what your problem is? Well, here’s an array of possibilities to choose from . . .

I only watched about three or four hours of TV during my month in the States – but that was more than enough to get a picture of what is going on. Rachel would do her 20 minute A block without interruptions, but from then on it was a constant flow of commercials broken up by sporadic 3 minute news segments. And it seemed like a third of those ads came from pharma companies. So here’s what the experience was like:

Rachel tells me about an explosion during a Russian nuclear missile test and how the radiation is spreading in my direction.

Then a nice woman in a commercial asks me if I ever feel anxious. If so, I should ask my doctor for xxxxx which, in some cases, might lead to dry mouth or mysterious sounding “sexual side effects”.

Then I see a short report about an immigration raid with desperate crying children, after which

a pharma commercial guy asks me if I am feeling sad. If so, I could try yyyyy  (but I should watch out for such side effects as fever, confusion, uncontrolled muscle movement, decreased white blood cells, seizures, impaired judgment, coma, suicide or death).

The next news report is about a recent mass shooting by a white supremacist, followed by

another nice lady asking me if I am having “racing thoughts” and trouble sleeping. I should try zzzzz (but beware of tongue swelling, memory loss, and/or hallucinations). Her successor knows what I could take for my “restless leg syndrome”, but it might increase my gambling urges or make me fall asleep while driving.

In the final news report, I hear that the pwesident is leaving to go on vacation. He has done nothing in his 2½ years so far to combat the country’s widespread addiction to painkillers, but never fear,

there is now a treatment for OIC (opioid induced constipation)! Just watch out for nausea, vomiting, stomach tearing and constant pain.

 

I think most people -me included – have a touch of hypochondria (aka “Illness Anxiety Disorder” or IAD) in them.  Who doesn’t hear of some new disorder and think briefly “Ooh! Maybe I have that!” So I wonder what the cumulative effect of all these messages must be. And then to continually hear these gruesome lists of possible side effects which often seem to end with “death”.  It’s unbearable. Four or five more hours of watching this stuff and I’d have started tearing my hair out.

Which, thanks to a sign in a Chicago el train, I now know is an official thing: trichotillomania or “hair pulling disorder”.

The industry is working on a treatment for it.

——————————————

I appreciate living in a country with a social welfare economy, but that doesn’t make me a Socialist. I also don’t believe in Capitalism for Capital’s Sake. From everything I have seen, a healthcare system that is privatized and profit-driven has every inducement in the world to keep the country sick. As long as it continues on like this, there will be no cures.

 

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He That Soweth

“Lock her up” was bad enough, but yesterday’s “Send her back” made something snap in my brain.

Enough!

I am done trying to “understand” the Trump supporter. Especially the ones claiming to be evangelical.

I can’t find a single reason for wanting this man in the White House that doesn’t derive from one of the following:

https://www.bibleinfo.com/en/questions/what-are-seven-deadly-sins

 

But don’t take it from me.

 

Proverbs 6:16-19 (KJV)

16 These six things doth the Lord hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him:

17 A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood,

18 An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief,

19 A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren.

 

German, English, Norwegian, Scottish, Irish, and Roman

 

I’m back to talking chickens.

Loyal readers will know what that means: there has been too much NSFB (“not suitable for blogging”) stuff going on and occupying my thoughts lately. Add to that the fact that I also subjected blogworld to two political rants in a short space of time, making me feel like I have to make up for it somehow. I have been rooting around for a nice, easy, non-political topic I can spend some time on . . . now, let’s see . . . what could I write about? . . . I know! . . . chickens!

 

 “We’re going to be grandparents of three,” my husband said to me a few days back. He had just checked our third batch of incubator eggs with his special illuminator device, homemade out of a toilet paper roll and some tin foil. Of the six eggs, three of them had dark shadowy innards. It takes almost exactly 21 days for the eggs to hatch, so in about two weeks’ time, I will be able to tell you if he was right.

Our first attempt, some of you may remember, resulted in the deformed, short-lived Quasimodo and the equally doomed Fred, the German Reich’s chicken who was clearly too beautiful to live. Those two were accompanied for their short time by some hastily purchased Wyandotte chicks, all four of whom turned into roosters and, subsequently, three of whom turned into dinner. The fourth is the father of our current incubator batch. This time I am actually hoping for a rooster. I want to name him “Pete Buttig-Egg”.

Our second attempt at incubating was more successful – it produced four hearty Orpingtons who managed to survive the harsh winter in a small henhouse with an open door. They did it by sticking close together. By March we had three full grown hens and one rooster but, sadly, no eggs. For months I fed them, checked the empty laying box, and then informed them that they were a bunch of good-for-nothing losers. But then – on the very same day Mueller finally submitted his report to the aptly named Barr – one of them laid an egg:

Surely there will be more to come. There has to.

 

All this focus on progeneration naturally led me to other thoughts. What about me? Where do I come from? I still remember asking my mother about it way back in grade school when the topic of nationalities was first introduced into my consciousness. Just like Elizabeth Warren’s mother’s tale of a Native American ancestor, my mom had a theory of her own to tell:

“Well let’s see . . . you are German, English, Norwegian, Scottish, Irish and Roman. Pretty much in that order.”

“Roman?” I asked. “Where does that come from?”

Mom told me that her own mother was 100% English, but that she had dark hair and olive skin – so that probably went back to some Roman soldier from the Empire’s occupation of England in the first millennium. It seemed pretty feasible.

In defense of my mother, I assume now that she was being a little facetious and never thought I would go on to repeating that list of nationalities – including the last one – for the next two decades. Thank goodness there was no “Roman” box to tick on my college application form!

The mystery surrounding my heritage was further complicated by my elder sister who has spent years compiling a massive database of our genealogical tree. I only know a tiny bit of it, but I vaguely remember her correcting my version of our connection to the Mayflower and – more importantly – not being able to confirm the “Irish” part of my nationality list. This disturbs me greatly because I once distinctly heard the call of my ancestors while wandering around the peninsula of Dingle in Ireland. On the other hand, when I was in Rome a few years back, I listened for a similar call and . . . nothin’.

Fortunately, modern science might offer me a way to prove or disprove my mother’s and sister’s theories. My Cuban friend (whose mother told her she had some Chinese ancestry) did a DNA test through “MyHeritage” and got some surprising results. To cut to the chase, she now walks around feeling less connection with the Ming dynasty and more with the Massai.

Of course, after hearing her tale, I went online and ordered two kits for me and my husband. They have been sitting on a shelf for weeks, but I’ve decided that today is the day to force the hubby to swab. Once that is done, I will mail the spittle off. So . . . in about six weeks’ time, I will be able to tell you if my mother or sister was right. I’m curious to find out who, if anyone, will be exonerated.

 

 

Hillary’s Alien Baby

 

“He thinks it’s still the 1980s!!”

I said that to my sister when, once again, our long distance call turned to politics – a topic that has become almost obligatory in the Age of Twump. As usual, we spat some venom and vented our frustrations and exclaimed our disbelief at whatever the scandals of that particular week happened to be. Afterwards, the sentence above stuck in my brain and kept me brooding. Eventually, it occurred to me that I had reams of old materials about the United States in my office upstairs dating all the way back to my first year of teaching English. I thought I should dig those things out and see what the issues of the day had been . . .

 

It was the year 1984. I had just arrived in Austria to begin my new job as resident native speaker and representative of the American society and culture. In other words, I was just launching a 35 yearlong effort to explain the inexplicable to sundry Europeans who crossed my path. At the very start, in the fall of ’84, the presidential election back home was heating up and in my eternal if naïve optimism, I told everyone that Mondale had a real chance to make Reagan a one-term president. (For those who have lost or repressed that particular memory, Reagan won 49 states.) When it came to presenting other current issues of my home country, I was a bit less starry-eyed. I put together materials like these “Facts about the United States” using the state-of-the-art technology of the time: photocopiers, scissors, glue and magic markers.

In the same binder where I found these materials, there were other articles and book passages that, for some reason, I never tossed in the paper recycling bin. Looking at them again after three decades, I was immediately struck by a weird sense of . . . for lack of a better word . . . convergence.

Immigration, drugs, crime, guns, the wealth gap, the Moral Majority, North Korea – they were all there as issues three decades ago. Some of them were being hyped at the time by the political right to create maximum fear in voters, while others were conveniently ignored and allowed to metastasize. Take any one of these issues and analyze the way it has developed since the 80s. The left tried desperately to reframe most of them, talking about a path to citizenship, decriminalization, ending mass incarceration, universal background checks, income inequality, religious tolerance, nuclear deterrence, etc. Twump, however, stayed old school. He talks walls and ICE, zero tolerance and Muslim bans, good guys with guns and punishments for women who choose, all while fantasizing about the proliferation of his namesake towers – next stop: Hanoi! I can’t think of a single 1980s right-wing position that is not in his repertoire.

It’s mind-boggling. Imagine you could pick any decade to get stuck in. You’d have to be a special kind of person to choose the 1980s.

Then again, Twump had a lot of help in maintaining his world view over the next two decades . . .

 

As I continued flipping through the binders of my old teaching materials, I discovered this little gem:

It was the early 90s and the Berlin Wall/Iron Curtain had come tumbling down over here in Europe. At home, the Right went in search of a new foil and the focus of their wrath shifted from the Commies to the Clintons. At the same time, the Evangelicals, the NRA and AMI (publisher of Weekly World News and the National Enquirer) went into lockstep with the Republican Party. Fox News joined forces with them shortly thereafter. Lobbying, PACs, and SuperPACs became a thing. The work of the military was outsourced to Blackwater, Halliburton, and Burger King. Prisons were privatized. The guns got bigger and more numerous while the school children they were aimed at got smaller and fewer. Some Conservative figured out that 5 Supreme Court justices could be just as effective as 50 Senators at maintaining the status quo and at a much cheaper price. That would later give us a President Bush, corporate personhood, the revolving door, Citizens United and an entire industry around Clinton-bashing. Conspiracy theorists inched into the mainstream, turning the media landscape into an (Info-)warfront and transforming Hillary from a relatively harmless alien baby adopter into a serial rapist enabler, a woman targeted for so long and with such viciousness that she became less electable for enough people than a gropey Reality TV charlatan. Would he ever have won without all that groundwork laid out for him and against her in advance?

For eight years there was a brief period of respite, but otherwise, politics seemed like one long, dark litany of events designed to depress the liberal-minded and keep everything the same ol’ same ol’.

But, once again, I get that weird sense of convergence.

Think of the people behind these depressing developments and how so many of them reemerged and/or coalesced around the 2016 Republican candidate. Rupert Murdoch, Roger Ailes, Bill O’Reilly, Tucker Carlson, Rush Limbaugh, David Pecker, Jerome Corsi, Steve Bannon, Eric Prince, Roger Stone, Paul Manafort, Rick Gates, Julian Assange, the Michaels Flynn and Cohen, most of the pwesident’s cabinet members, a congressman or two . . . they have been at their dubious respective games for years with impunity. But now, one by one, thanks mostly to their association with the current administration, they are coming under serious fire. If justice is truly divine, then a lot of these members of the opportunistic Lock Her Up Gang just might have jumpsuits in their futures.

There is always hope. I’m no longer so sure about the “change” part.

 

Two and half years ago, I wrote the prequel to this blog post (“Pink Flamingos”) about how I experienced the beginnings of this long political pendulum swing to the right. It was dated October 16th, 2016 and in my eternal if naïve optimism, I all but pronounced the upcoming historic election of our first female president. It was just three weeks away!

Instead we got her alien manbaby and his promise to make America 1984 again.

 

The Perfect Donkey

It seems that the 2020 election season is already upon us. Speaking as one of the many American frogs swimming in a pot of slowly heating water and screaming “THE EMPEROR HAS NO CLOTHES!!” here are the qualities I am looking for in the future Democratic candidate.

He or she will not say or do anything that is:

scandalous

outrageous

staggering

breathtaking

stunning

unprecedented

unpresidential

brazen

conspiratorial

obstructionist

authoritarian

narcissistic

divisive

race-baiting

scientifically dubious

demonstrably false

self-dealing

self-serving

impulsive

embarrassing

demoralizing

disgraceful

ignorant

or

dickish

 

She or he will not talk about:

carnage

fake news

witch hunts

pardons

national emergencies

the wall

steel slats

leakers

red lines

voter fraud

the Electoral College

shithole countries

emails

Wikileaks

fine people

illegals

the enemy of the people

or

the art of the deal

 

He or she will have respect for:

the free press

separation of powers

the Hatch Act

the Magnitsky Act

the Emoluments Clause

congressional oversight

the 1st, 13th, 14th, 15th  and 25th Amendments

impeachment

the environment

the voters

women

other people

the Constitution

and

basic human decency

Absentee

 

I’ve been gone for quite a while.

About 34 years, all told.

But I never gave up my citizenship, so I now fall into the category of “Permanent Overseas Voter”. As I can only vote in federal elections, my ballot this year listed only the Senate and House races of my home State and district.

My elder daughter who became a citizen in July of 2017 and turned 18 in July of 2018 also voted. It was her first time (in a US election) and I think she found the whole process exciting, but also a bit . . . hinky.

We registered her online though a website called “VoteFromAbroad.Org where she had to supply surprisingly little information and no actual proof of identity or citizenship. Only two options were listed – a Social Security number or a State ID – and she has neither of those. But her registration went through even with those lines blank and the next day her Voter Certification arrived by email.  We printed that, she signed it, I witnessed it, we attached a photocopy of her certificate of citizenship to it and mailed it off to the Election Commission in our home State. Apparently, that worked, because a week later, her new Voter Certificate and her absentee ballot arrived by email along with four pages of instructions.

We printed everything out, got four envelopes, black ink pens, and Scotch tape and laid it all out on the kitchen table.

First step: fill out the ballots.

“Wait!” my daughter said. “First tell me about these candidates so I can decide who to vote for.”

I sat back. I didn’t want to discourage her instinct to be an informed voter and independent thinker. On the other hand . . . if she ended up voting for a Republican candidate at this particular moment in history, I would take it as proof that I had failed as a mother.

“Honey, you understand that this is not a normal year or a normal election, don’t you? I mean  . . .  can I assume that you don’t want to support anyone who supports Trump? That you want people elected who will be a check on his power?” She nodded. “Then in this particular election we should both simply vote straight Democratic.” She understood the logic of that.

We filled in the circles by the name of the first openly lesbian U.S. Senator, now running for reelection. Then we filled in the circle by the name of lovely African American women who represents my (sister’s) district and will reliably vote against anything the Pwesident is for and vice versa. It is fairly clear that both of these women will win – with or without our votes. It was still nice to add our voices to the Resistance Choir. My only regret was that our voting status didn’t allow us to chime in on State government positions. So we couldn’t also fill in the circle by What’s His Name – the guy who hopefully will be taking down our current ridiculous Republican governor.

The whole time we were doing this, I did not look at her ballot or what she was doing. The instructions had been explicit about this being a no-no.

 

Steps Two through Eight:

We each signed and dated our Voter Certifications. We exchanged them and each signed and dated the Witness Statement for one another. We traded back and then each taped our certificates onto one of the envelopes. We put our ballots inside and sealed them. Then we put these envelopes into another envelope and addressed it to the Executive Director of the Election Commission. And then we mailed them off.

I have no idea when – or even if – these votes will be opened and counted. (And, no,  I didn’t mention this fact to my daughter.)

BUT! . . .

If control of the House of Representatives ends up coming down to two absentee overseas votes from a certain district of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, well, then, I’ll just say . . .

“You’re welcome”.

The Emperor Has No Shame

I confess. Despite the amazing number of scandals and scandal-like outrages the pwesident has survived, I still harbor secret hopes that a great falling-humpty-dumpty  plop or a mass emperor-has-no-clothes awakening could happen any day now. Or maybe something like what happens in that great old movie, “The Dead Zone”, when the evil candidate grabs a baby to shield himself from the bullets of an assassin. I keep waiting for the moment when we all shake off this haze we are in and realize what kind of man he is (if we don’t already).

On the other hand, I have also had a growing suspicion that such moments ARE occurring – it is just that there has been such a long and relentless string of them, we don’t recognize them for what they are. Yesterday’s twumptweet is just another example:

“Don has received notoriety for a brief meeting, that many politicians would have taken, but most importantly, and to the best of my knowledge, nothing happened after the meeting concluded.”

In other words: