Hughes thought the world had changed. Wrong again!
Still,
no ObamaCare®.
And now, I
shall rant as if I had signed-up with Bill Gardner as a “Secret Republican.”
How more “cosmic” can it get when Hughes was unconsciously moved to call NH on
the date he wanted to be there for the last day of beauty pageant filing. The “Inner
Voice” of reason, sanity, and pure logic is not a hallucination, so I picked up
the Android, which is not a real phone. A real phone has a coiled cord and is
in two pieces. No other object made in Asia should be legally allowed to be
called a “Telephone,” in my opinion.
We’ll
skip JIM COMEY’S despicable lying and stick to the masses who are still
uninsured and ready to do something very bad if fined for a lack of health care
coverage when apparently no one is compelled by law, regulation, or large
loaded handgun to answer the goddamn phone at government (888) numbers. First,
I called my old health care provider (Hint: Blue) to say how happy I was with a
simple 70/30 plan I could afford. The call-taker answered promptly and felt my pain.
Once
transferred to the .gov agency, this Hughes played with the virus scan while on
Perpetual Hold and reviewed details on the first virus captured by “Wilbur,” a not
quite new Windows 7 equipped HP. The little worm was probably a gift from my
associates I’d rather not know at Anonymous. Yet how can we complain about
hackers who have marched off to Internet War with Muslim bad guys? I’d suggest
hacking-up their “head-chopping videos.” Yes, a sociopath knows how to fight
with a sociopath, and I would know, because I wrestled with them on the floor
of my hospital ward. As with “The Cops,” there was always more of us than them.
Back
to health care, I’ll call in the morning and count the cups of coffee consumed
on hold. When they answer the phone, my income is embarrassing, and given the new
POTUS #44 “Lifetime Loser” Food Stamp account, I should be approved for a
subsidy promptly. No? Then I’ll file a lawsuit with a remedy that would find
the Big MO Bureaucrat ordered to read all of my psychiatric journal articles
multiple times like the Catholic confessional “Hail Mary’s” no one ever
completes. Don’t you love Catholicism? “Say an ‘Our Father’ and don’t kill any
more crooked politicians” the wise priest says. Then, he just can’t tell the
detective who wants to ruin fairly meted mafia justice.
Why
would I stock-up on weapons and complain about 8 years with no dental care, 7
years with no doctor visit? I feel fine. However, when I start ranting about
Medicare/Medicaid/Insurance Exchanges/Ira Magaziner/Vince Foster and so forth,
I’m quite sure my BP goes up, and by the way, the price of gas at BP was .9
cents when I lived on Michigan Avenue, or so the sign said. In the California
desert, the sign said that too, but I failed to whip out the now “missing”
camera. This was near the famous naval base with no water where a U.S. Navy cop
hid behind his Jeep when I said, “And I’m also kind of running for president.”
This caused him to call his boss and later say, “Hold on a minute, I need some
more information.”
I
was uninsured then, and I’m uninsured now. The long wait for Canadian health
care? I think it’s big, fat, lie. If I’m dying, they’ll take forever to approve
me for futile treatment, right American Spectator? I think that’s bullcrap.
Does the Internet work from Toronto? I’m sure it does. May I buy the Blue Jays?
Not yet.
THE 2016 SIGNAL FROM GERMANTOWN ROAD
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