The War Between the States, Part Deux...

The "war between the states" that just ended wasn't fought between the North and the South.  No, my friends, and you are my friends, it was fought between the "Reds" and the "Blues."

It seems that those who live on or near the coast, within, say, 50 miles of either ocean, the so-called "Coastal Bubble," voted mainly for Hillary Clinton. Those are the "Blue" states. And those who live in the great "Flyover Country," as it's known, or roughly 80% of America's land area, voted for Donald J. Trump.  And there were enough folks in the flyover states, the "Red" states, that Trump wound up winning in an Electoral rout.   

Yes, it's true that Clinton received more actual votes.  More than 5 million more than Trump to be exact.  However, those votes came from three counties in New York and four in California.  2 out of 3 votes in California were for Clinton. With CA now offering drivers' licenses to illegal aliens, more than 850,000 of them last year alone, more even then were issued to its legal citizens, all bets are off as to whether some of CA's newly-legal-ish neighbors may have pulled the lever for Ms. Clinton.  That's because her hubby ex-Prez Billy J. ("Blue Dress") Clinton signed a law between dalliances forcing the "motor voter" arrangement upon folks like us. 

That means you're automatically registered to vote in CA when you get your drivers' license. Ergo, one has to reasonably ask if a good portion of those 2 out of 3 came from "uninvited (but muy welcome) visitors." That's liberal-speak here in Taxifornia for illegal aliens, doncha' know)?  

Oh yeah, don't you dare refer to them as "illegals" here. They'll tell you in no uncertain terms that no one is "illegal." They're just "undocumented."  Hmmmm.  I guess drug dealers should now be refereed to as "undocumented pharmacists."

And doncha' dare underestimate CA's willingness to punish free speech. There's a bill in the Legislature right now that would get you a big fine and a year in the Big House for using the wrong pronoun when referring to those who are of a transgender persuasion.  Example:  Call Caitlin Jenner "Bruce" and go away for a long, long time.

BTW, for those who believe it's unfair for the person who receives the most votes not to win the Election, let me remind you that Alfonso ("Global Warming will roast us all in a fiery Hell!") Gore lost the Presidential election back in 2000 even though he got the most actual votes.  That Electoral College thing is a real bear, isn't it?  It was put there in the Constitution by our super-smart Founding Fathers to protect the less populated states from being bullied by the four or five biggest states with the mostest people.  No Electoral College? No reason for a politician to even campaign there. Like, say, Montana, or Missouri, or Nebraska, or Alabama, or New Mexico, or Georgia, or Tennessee a couple of dozen other states.

Yep, just spend your time, and your money, in CA and TX and IL and FL and NY.  That's where all the people are, and therefore, that's where most of the popular votes are, right?   

Oh yeah, let me remind you that if Gore had won his home state of Tennessee he'd have won the election. One just has to ask, if his home state didn't vote for him, isn't that all the rest of us really needed to know back then?  Me thinks so...

But nonetheless, it was almost as bad (or good, depending upon your political persuasion) in New York.  Every part of NY except the Five Burroughs voted for Trump, but there's millions and millions and millions of Democrats in and around New York City.  Don't know why for sure, my friends, there just are. Been that way for generations.  Likely be that way for generations to come.  

The same is true for San Diego, Lost Angeles, Santa Monica, Santa Cruz, the Silicon Valley and San Francisco...all within sniffing distance of salt air (Wait!  Maybe salt air really is responsible for all this craziness!). 

Oh wait!  Chicago is a cess pool of toxic liberalism in what is otherwise be a good, solid conservative state.  Maybe it's not the salt in the air, maybe it's just the proximity to huge bodies of water!

And of course there's Portland and Seattle.  Just full of lefties! Brimming over, are they! All in the Coastal Bubble, doncha' know. For some reason they all just luuuuuv what Democrats have to say.  My own personal theory is that they're either a), very, very rich, ala Gates and Zuckerburg, and are feeling sooooo guilty about it; or b) very, very poor, and wish to screw those who make more than they do by voting exclusively for those who promise to redistribute other peoples' hard-gained wealth heavily their way.  

Think Guvna Jerry "Moonbeam" Brown, our civil servant-for-life, a guy who will die a multi-millionaire one day soon without ever having held a private-sector job.  But in the meantime he can boast an unblemished record of anti-freedom achievements that have severely tarnished the once-Golden State.  

Anyway, the net result is that CA has drifted ever closer to all-out socialism during the past 30 or so years.  And those of us who are self-reliant, self-sufficient, freedom- and small government-loving, military-supporting, flag-waving, gun-toting, family values-embracing, God-fearing 'Muricans are not at all happy about that reality.  No, my friends, not happy at all.  But those of us in that latter category are sadly in the minority here in the Peoples' Republic of California.

Sort of like, being held hostage doncha' know.

Fortunately, I've found one of the few remaining conservative enclaves remaining in the once-Golden State in which to make my home. Everyone around here is armed and considered dangerous.  Sort of like Fort Apache in the Old West, on the lookout for the savages preparing to mount another attack on our freedoms, rampaging over the battlements, ululating at the top of their lungs. So steer clear, all you redistributionists! 

Love that word, ululating.  Look it up...

But back to the point:  The clear majority of the residents of flyover states voted for The Donald.  And the Dems here in CA and those in NY, and MD, and OR, and WA are bigly pissed!  So pissed, in fact, that the brain dead bozos in charge here are actually planning to secede from the Union! Not kidding!  A referendum is being circulated as I write this. And if it gets the requisite number of signatures it will be on the ballot as a citizen referendum come 2018.  And my guess is the room temperature-I.Q. weenies here in La La Land who constitute the majority of the electorate may vote in favor. Because that's what their Progressive masters and the Alphabet Media will have told them to do. 

Hmmmmmm.

Now, I personally think that's a good idea, even if only because it would be so hugely entertaining to watch.  I'm of an age that such an occurrence wouldn't negatively impact me very much or for very long.  It would be a living Hell for my kids, however, and their kids, and their kids' kids, but there's a whole lot of people here who are so vacuous and ignorant and jealous of those that have stuff they don't, and they're too damn lazy to go out and work for it themselves, that they are blissfully unaware that living in what could easily become Venezuela isn't such a good idea. They've been schooled since zygotes to think the way they do by far too many lefty, Progressive parents and teachers, and so are used to getting a trophy solely for participating.  So why, I ask rhetorically, would they think anything bad about socialism?

Soooooo, my friends, having been born and raised in the Midwest before emigrating way-back-when to what was then a true paradise, I have a foot in both camps, so to speak.  I know how they feel and think, and I know how folks here in La La Land do the same. And I can tell you the folks here will never understand how it's possible for what they believe to be a funny-talking, billionaire-ish, narcissistic, orange hair god reality TV star to somehow win the White House when their much-favored, glass ceiling-breaking, next-in-line, most qualified-ever-in-history, uber-Liberal candidate should have been a shoo-in.   

I'm guessing they actually believe the total bunkum spewed by the Democrats and the Lap Dog Media about the Russians having stolen the election.  After all, they have to believe that.  Or perhaps some other invented excuse, Otherwise, they'd have to get their arms around the fact that they made a huge mistake by running a pandering, self-dealing, elitist, greedy, serial prevaricator for the Presidency of the United States of America.  

But this "war" will likely have unintended repercussions that will last for generations.  We have an actual physical hatred among the various participants in this undeclared war.  The coastal bubblers have such an enduring disdain for the (what they think are) toothless, pickup truck-driving, rodeo-loving, double digit-I.Q., uneducated, inbred rubes who inhabit "flyover," and those in flyover country view the lefty, greedy, self-dealing, limousine-riding, pinky-lifting, redistributionist, tax-and-spend bozos on either coast with such contempt, I doubt this conflagration will ever result in a truce. 

Soooooo, to all of my old chums back in Missouri, give up on the Dinosaur Media actually ever reporting the true, unvarnished, un-tweaked news. Expect their biased left-wing slant on reality to continue. And don't expect those in the coastal bubble to start embracing good ol' capitalistic, conservative, self-reliant family values anytime soon.  In fact, I'd suggest that the ideal way to end this contest of ideologies is to simply have a divorce; let the Lefty states go their way, and those who embrace conservative values stay "Right" where they are... 

Let's see.  I'd guess that those on the "Right" will take capitalism, and the military, and country music, and guns, and bourbon, and baseball, and fast cars, and Bar-B-Q, and football, and the flag, and freedom, and the National Anthem, and low taxes, and small Gummint, and God, and the Bill of Rights...all Ten of them. They come as a boxed set, doncha' know.
  
And the coastal dweebs can keep their professional protesting, and Black Lies Matter, and designer water, and wind power, and electric cars, and political correctness, and college "safe places," and their totally biased media, and gender confusion, and sanctuary cities, and redistributionist tax hikes, and Big Government, and "white privilege," and, of course, Global Warming, the biggest scam ever perpetrated on the people of America.

But, lemme tell ya', when the fit hits the shan, and the Bad Guy zombies start rampaging, and the snowflakes' primary orifices begins to pucker, and the elites' bodyguards start to desert them in droves, tell them not to call on the "flyover" states to save their bacon.  Because the red-blooded folks everywhere will be eating it around a campfire while they're out on a hunting trip, taking down a Bambi or two in the process...

Let's Not Stop At Statues...

So ex-Speaker of the House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi has walked past statues of 11 Confederate dignitaries in the Capitol's Statuary Hall every single day Congress has been in session for more than 36 years.  Not once during that entire period did she get overwrought over such a presence. 

For four years of Bush the Elder, and eight years of Billy J. "Blue Dress" Clinton, and eight years of Bush the Junior, and eight glorious years of Obama, San Fran Nan was not off put in the least by statues of those who fought and died on behalf of the Confederacy during that "Waa of Nawthen' Aggresshun." Not until Donald J. Trump was elected and some of her friends on the Hard Left decided to get the vapors over all things Confederacy did she decide that these statues needed to come down.  And come down now! 

She, the daughter of the Major of Baltimore, Maryland, a state steeped in southern charm, has decided that all things "South" is now toxic.  

Annnnnnd, everything, everywhere that was ever named or affiliated or associated, however tangentially with anyone who ever ventured south of the Mason-Dixon Line must be scrubbed from our collective memory! Flags, tombstones, buildings, statues, words, deeds, blue crabs, pecan pie, mint juleps, corn pones, everything.  I'm pretty sure even the color gray would trigger her and her ilk like a Target store without a transgender bathroom. Everything.

Why?  Because it's just another thing to beat Trump and members of the Republican Party over the head with and another excuse to do absolutely nothing to advance The Peoples' agenda.  They're planting their Gucci-clad feet and refusing to join forces with Republicans to pass any legislation of any kind.  And they don't feel guilty it in the least.  It's what they do.  Or, should we say, don't do...

Just think:  Last weekend in Chicago there were 63 people shot and 8 died.  From gunfire.  In a town where it's almost impossible to buy, own, use, store, polish, brandish, display, hide, talk about or trade a gun.  But do the Democrats talk about the failure of more than 90 years of Democrat rule in Chicago?  No.  They talk about how we have to remove every last vestige of the history of the War Between the States. There are more than 1,100 Civil War-related statues lying in repose around the Country.  And those on the Far Left now want them all removed.  Even Lincoln's Memorial was defaced by some miscreant last week.  Why?  Don't know.  Remember, Lincoln freed the slaves.  But I guess that's too close an affiliation for those on the Looney Left. Sad.

Buuuuut, I, The Chuckmeister, have done a little bit of research on the subject.  I've decided to help the Democrats by drawing their attention to some other places and things that were named for or based on the Confederacy.  And no, I'm not looking for their thanks.  It's just what I do as an American patriot.  So, get comfy, open a nice Sierra Nevada pale ale and behold what the Lefties could target next:

1.  Wall Street:  Whether you know it or not, during the period 1711 to 1762, Wall Street was the home of slave markets. Yes, slaves were traded on Manhattan Island, and we must abolish Wall Street in our self-flagellation over all things Confederate.

2.  New York:  New York State was named for the Duke of York, who became King Charles II of England (no relation, I'm sure).  The Duke financed the Royal Africa Company, which made massive profits off slave trading for more than two centuries.

3.  Fort Bragg:  Yes, the very largest military installation in all of America, and home to the storied 82nd Airborne Division, was named for Confederate general Braxton Bragg.  His name will surely have to be scrubbed from this fort and replaced with some other more politically correct one. Suggestions?  How about Fort Obama?  Would that make Nancy happy? 

4.  JP Morgan-Chase:  This, America's biggest bank, at one time owned slaves.  Divisions of the bank accepted 1,000's of slaves as collateral for loans, made to plantation owners in the early 19th century.  That means it absolutely MUST be shut down, or at least shamed by every right-thinking American...

5.  Georgetown University:  In 1838 Georgetown U's then-president Thomas F. Mullely sold 272 slaves to help pay off the college's debt. Should every Georgetown School of Law graduate return their diplomas in disgust?  Hmmmmmmm...

6.  Brooks Brothers:  America's oldest men's clothing retail chain.  Long before it became mainstream it sold slave clothing to plantation owners. I guess that means no one can ever buy a BB suit again, right?

7.  Aetna:  This, my friends, is a major U.S. insurance company.  Back in the 1850's Aetna sold insurance policies to slave owners to help recover their investment if they somehow managed to work their chattel to death.  This disqualifies them from doing business with the Government, doesn't it?

8.  AIG:  Now best known for selling reverse mortgage financing, one of this outfit's divisions, U.S. Life, insured slaves back during the 1850's and 60's.  Didn't know that, didja?

9.  Brown University:  30 of this Ivy League college's governing early board members owned slaves.  Wow, it seems nearly everybody back then owned slaves, didn't they?

10.  Ulysses S. Grant:  Union general, famous drunkard, future President of the U.S. and the guy who's face is on the $50 bill owned one slave, a Mr. William Jones.  He granted Mr. Jones his freedom in 1859. Somehow I doubt our Mr. Lincoln would have picked Grant to win the Civil War if he hadn't...

And finally...

11.  Arlington Cemetery:  Confederate general Robert E. Lee was against slavery, was a friend of U. S. Grant, wanted nothing to do with the impending War and made his home at what was to ultimately become Arlington Cemetery.  But his ties to the South were stronger than his desire to avoid a conflagration.  So he did his duty and fought hard for the Confederacy, to no avail.  He forfeited his home and land to the Union after he lost the Civil War.  Land adjacent to the Potomac where our National Cemetery is so proudly situated today.  

But because Lee led the Confederacy, which only seceded from the Union due to its refusal to abolish slavery, we must now rename this resting place for tens of thousands of our heroes.  If you have suggestions for a new name, be sure to let Nancy Pelosi know...

Epilogue: The Great BofA Bank Robbery...

Those of you patriots who have been following the little saga of the Bank of America's refusal to return the Chuckmeister's money following the sad and untimely demise of his lovely and patient wife, will be anxious to read this, the Final Chapter, the "post mortem," so to speak, in that painful drama.  

Those of you who haven't are invited to scroll down and acquaint yourselves with a situation no one could have possibly predicted: one of the biggest banks in America decided to screw a loyal customer by hanging on to his money far beyond what would have reasonably been...reasonable.

But I, The Chuckmeister, after more than two months of screaming, shouting, pounding my fists on the table and threatening to call in "Lawyer Daggett," have finally wrestled this mess to the mat and the referee has named me the victor!  Dammmmmm-n-n-n-n!

Anyway, to continue from where we last left off, BofA demanded that I fill out and have notarized a certain affidavit unique to the State of California.  I asked the lady on the other end of the phone at their Estate Unit if she would fax me one.  She said no, I had to find one on my own. I asked her where I should look to find one.  She said, "Google it. You'll find it."  Now that was helpful.  I guess that's customer service in today's America.  At least in the Bank of America's...America.

So I jumped on the Web and located just such a form. Downloadable and printable for only $5.00.  How nice.  So now I'm $35.00 in unrecoverable fees from this little adventure.  I fill out this form, go find a couple of family members to serve as witnesses, employ another notary for another $15.00 and fax the whole paper pile away.  And then wait. And wait.  Three weeks I waited.  

Was the check finally in the mail?  Ummmm, no.

I get a letter letting me know that I sent the affidavit before the State's arbitrary 40-day elapsed time requirement.  I sent it to them in 34 days. Of course, they didn't tell me about this little nicety, nor did the website offering up the form for sale. No amount of begging and pleading could get the Banks' flunky to agree to a waiving the rules.  I was instructed to do it all over. Let that sink in: all over again...

So, grumbling out loud the entire time, I return to the wilds of the Web, find another form, pay $6.00 this time, down load and print it, and fill it out.  I ferret out two more witnesses, pay another $15.00 for a notary (that's $65.00 in fees in you're still counting), and then re-fax the package back to the Estate Unit.  Hoping that this nightmare will now, finally, be over.

No such luck.  I get a call from a BofA dimbulb kindly informing me that I had now "chosen the wrong affidavit."  I needed, the person told me, a form that specified the amount the Bank was holding from me, plus the account number.  I remarked that the Bank should know the account number and the amount they've been holding, and that none of the forms I had thus far reviewed had such a statement.  She told me to go to "www.courts.CA.Gov" and I would find one. Really.

So, not-so-slowly shaking my head side-to-side, I head back to the Internet and scope out this website.  Was there an affidavit that offered up instructions according to the Bank's demands?  Ummm, no.  In fact, there was not even a form available with the affidavit's name.  There were a couple of forms that seemed close in the probate section, so I downloaded them ($14.00 more dollars...$79.00 now total), filled them out, got them witnessed and the packaged re-notarized ($94.00 the new total!), and sent them in.  

Room Temperature-I.Q. lady on the other end of the phone at BofA was suitably sorry to hear of my plight when she called to tell me that, once again I had chosen the wrong form. That's three so far, I told her, and I was becoming more than a little bit off-pissed.  I let her know that I had three options seemingly available to me at this point:  One, I could just agree to give the BofA the money they were holding, hoping that it would help them have a really, really nice Christmas party.  Of course, that option would also involve me contacting the Media and conducting a press conference on my front yard.  I would first short BofA's stock, doncha' know. 

Or second, I would take a large caliber weapon and start blowing holes in the nearest Bank branch.  Or, in third place among options, I would call in a lawyer and sue the crap out of them.

Whilst contemplating among those options, I chose a fourth. I went to the largest branch here in Chuckmeisterville, marched my crippled body in an arrow straight line to the largest desk I could find, plopped myself down and told the poor dweeb sitting there that I had come to solve a perplexing problem, that he was going to help me do so, and that there would be Hell to pay if he didn't.

Well, as it happened, the guy I chose had a bit of horsepower.  He listened raptly to my tale of woe, and then started making phone calls.  I suspect one of them was to the local PD Swat unit, but I can't be sure. Anyhoo, within an hour the guy had sorted through all the difficulties and been given the assurance from whoever was on the other end of the line that I could finally rest easy; my nightmare was almost over.

Oh wait:  what Mr. Desk Guy found out, and what enabled this whole ugly situation to obtain a successful resolution, was...wait for it...I had been an owner of, and signer on the account right from the beginning!  The lazy oafs at the Estate Unit hadn't taken the time to dredge up some microfiche from back in 1986 to verify just who owned this account. And my very loud claims that I had been writing checks on it for more than 40 years fell on deaf ears.  I co-owned the accounts, and they had wrongfully put me through unnecessary grief for two and one-half months.  

Oh yeah, and then they informed me that I would just have to wait somewhere from 7 to 14 BUSINESS days to get my check.  

Update:  Today I opened my mail.  In it was a cashier's check from BofA for all my money, finally.  No letter of explanation, or regret.  Just a check. But it did not include all the unnecessary fees they'd forced me to expend trying to get my money back.  I'm sitting here trying to decide whether or not to sue them in Small Claims Court to get back my $94.00. Still might...

For those of you out there who need a recommendation regarding banks, you can be certain that my commentary regarding BofA will not be at all positive...

The Absurdity of "Pre-Existing Conditions."

The big debate on Capitol Hill these days is how to "repeal and replace" the failing Obamacare health insurance program with something else for which 50 out of the 52 Republican Senators can bring themselves to vote.  Or, maybe modify it, or tweak it, or adjust it, or something. Anything...

That's because Republicans can, for the very first time, use an arcane parliamentary Senate rule to pass new legislation using "reconciliation." It normally takes 60 votes in the Senate to end debate and discussion on a particular piece of proposed legislation and head off to a vote, which then will pass or fail on a majority rule basis.  But, because then-Majority Leader and Democrat "Dirty" Harry Reid used reconciliation to pass Obamacare back in 2009, for the first time in more than 230 years, Republicans can now use the same trick to replace it. It's much more complicated to explain then that, but hey, for the purposes of this unassuming little blog posting, that's good enough.

Anyway, one of the key components of the 2,700 page, five and one-half foot tall Obamacare legislation, which I have read, painfully, by the way, is that it covers "pre-existing conditions." Doncha' just luuuuv Swamp Speak? That little term means that you don't have to buy health insurance under Obamacare until you get sick.  

Whaaaaaaaaaat?

That means the whole principle of shared risk and shared responsibility and shared reward that our insurance markets have been based upon since before our ancestors boarded the Mayflower and sailed off from Jolly Old England have been turned on their ear. Now, under Obamacare, you can wait until the thing you're insuring yourself against has ACTUALLY HAPPENED before you have to insure yourself against it.

Huh?

Lemme' say that again.  The simple fact it, when you buy insurance you're betting the insurance company that the thing you're insuring yourself against WILL happen, and they're betting you that it WON'T. That's how they can sell a package of car or home or fire or casualty or theft or health insurance to a broad swath of people, betting that only a small percentage of the total number of insured will suffer any kind of loss for which the policy purports to insure them against.  

In other words, out of, say, 100,000 health insurance policy holders, the insurance company might discover from its actuaries (professional, highly-paid, math whiz guessers) that 1 or 2 will get brain cancer, 65 or 70 might suffer a broken bone, 26 will get measles, and 34 are expected to develop diabetes, etc..  The others will happily pay their premiums without getting anything of substance in return, but knowing that they're covered, just in case.  And that those self-same premiums will cover the other folks' calamities while they themselves remain healthy, and that there will be some profit for the insurance provider left over.  That's the incentive for the insurance company to place these high-stakes bets. And that's the way the game is supposed to be played.

Buuuuuuut, when you permit people to wait until they get sick, the cost of insuring the entirety of the whole will go up EXPONENTIALLY!  Think of it this way:  You buy a car but don't buy insurance.  You have a wreck. And then you want to buy insurance to cover the cost of the loss you just suffered.  "Hello, State Farm? You don't know me, but..."  Fat chance! So why would you expect to be able to wait until you get sick to buy health insurance?

But then-President B. Hussein Obama and his cadre of sycophantic Progressives saddled America with a "poison pill" that will haunt us forever.  They subsumed fully one-sixth of America's economy and put it in the clutches of the Gummint. And they did it without a single Republican vote! 

Using it, they gave us what we think of as an "entitlement," and we all know that once an entitlement is given, it MAY NOT be taken away.  So now the Republicans are suffering through trying to figure out how to "repeal and replace" something the electorate may not be willing to let them retrieve from those clutches.

And don't give me that crap about health care being a "right." It isn't. Here in good ol' 'Murica it was written by our Founding Fathers that we have, via the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, the right to..."Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness."  Notice there's nothing in there about "health care."  Except the lefties in our Great Land wishes there were.  And if they wish hard enough, I mean really, REALLY hard, they think, maybe they can convince us sheeple that it should be.  And "should be" should be enough to pass a passel of laws making it so. Got it?

So, thus far every single proposed "fix" to Obamacare has included "pre-existing conditions" as a foundational part of the proposed plan.  Trump wants it.  The female senators want it.  Squishy moderate Republicans want it.  And Democrats demand it, even though they are uniformly unwilling to even discuss repealing Obamacare.  But Obamacare is going down in flames, and they know it, but they won't acknowledge it. And the majority of their followers blindly accede to the marching orders their Lefty masters puke forth.  Truly sad, my friends.  They are what's wrong with America.

The ONLY way to make this whole mess work is to repeal it and replace it.  With what?  Lemme' tell you...

1.  Catastrophic Coverage:  What we need is a basic health insurance policy that assumes responsibility when a catastrophe happens. A serious car wreck.  Stage 4 cancer. A stroke.  Something that doesn't happen every day, like a simple broken bone, or to everyone.  Just the unlucky ones. My dad used to sell health insurance and his Number One Product was catastrophic coverage policies.  No dental, no vision, no nothing except catastrophes. We should do that again.  And we should demand that our citizens purchase it so that any illness or injury that befalls them will not impose a burden to their fellow 'Muricans.  

And the price of the premiums for this coverage should be based upon your age and sex and lifestyle choices and pertinent other factors. Your next door neighbor shouldn't be made to pay for your poor lifestyle choices.  Or your bad luck. You should. That's the way it has always been, and should return to being. Makes sense, right?

2.  Government-Run Health Clinics:  It has been illegal for years for a health care provider to turn away someone in need. That's why our hospital emergency rooms take anyone, anytime, legal or not, and whether they can pay or not.  And that's why it costs those with health insurance $5,900 to set a broken bone, instead of a hundred bucks or so.  This is a stupid system.  

The solution:  Have the Gummint offer a paid-for medical education for would-be qualifying physicians, physicians' assistants and Registered Nurses, require that they work in government-run health clinics for, say, ten years in exchange, and pay them a fair wage during their work-off period.  Just like the Feds offer the GI Bill for returning military veterans, they should offer a freebie education for those willing to trade a few years of their newly-trained life in exchange.  Oh, and get them a starter Cadillac too.  That would eliminate doctors leaving med schools with $500,000 in student loans. It would prevent doctors from refusing to see Medicaid/Cal patients because the reimbursement rate is so low.  And it would also eliminate the costly burdens placed on community hospitals by vote-hungry politicians.  

Put these clinics next door to or near hospitals, require that they take anyone, anytime, and charge them based on their ability to pay, or even free, if necessary.  Hospitals would no longer be burdened with the unreimbursed cost of treating the indigent, so their charges would go way, WAY down.  And the community would have a health care resource for those in need.  Find fault with that scenario, if you can...

3.  Permit Health Savings Accounts (HSA's):

Permit "HSA's" so The People could pay for their own minor medical problems with pre-tax dollars. Kind of like paying for your retirement with a 401(k).  And then require that the hospitals and other health care providers publish their charges for all medical and surgical procedures, so patients could shop and compare, thus putting We The People in charge of our own health care and enabling competition to finally break into the medical field (Whaaaat a concept!). And then let taxpayers transfer anything left over from their HSA into their 401(k) retirement accounts.  Smart, huh?

Did you ever ask a doctor or nurse what a procedure or test or X-ray or drug or shot they want you to undergo actually costs?  Well, if you did, as I have, the odds are likely 100% that they won't know the answer. Nobody except the hospital's Chief Financial Officer knows the answer.  

How is it that little clinics in Tiajoewanna knows how much to charge you for a medical procedure, and is happy to advertise it, but your local community hospital does not? That, my friends, is a system in need of change. Rapid change!

4.  Permit the Sale of Health Insurance Across State Lines:  You can buy car insurance across state lines.  And home insurance.  And theft insurance. And dental insurance. So why not health insurance?  Right now there are states with only one single health insurance provider.  And because of O-Care, even NO insuror!  In Nevada 14 of its 17 counties will have NO health insurance provider starting in 2018. 

No sales across state lines = no competition.  No competition = artificial - and HIGH - prices.  Permit the sale of health insurance across state lines and watch the cost of coverage go WAY DOWN!  That's called "market forces."  It worked for car insurance, and it worked for life insurance.  It'll work for health insurance.

5.  Do Away With Unlimited Jury Awards:

It's absurd that "slip and fall" attorneys can swoop in and collect enormous fees for suing everybody who moves after an accident or injury.  These ambulance chasers usually charge 40% of any award they achieve.  And if the award is in the $Millions, their fees can be yuuuuuge!  And carefully selected juries that believe it's somebody else's money anyway are complicit in these awards becoming absolutely ridiculous.  That's why judge shopping, and jury shopping, and even venue shopping is so popular.  

My solution?  Establish a schedule of permissible dollar awards for various degrees of injury, or death, and require the jury to abide by that requirement.  Say, up to $250,000 for serious injury not leading to death. And say up to $500k or even $1MM for a death, depending upon the education, training, abilities and income of the deceased.  That would bring down prospective awards dramatically, and also bring down insurance premiums. There is NO free lunch, regardless of how many underemployed lawyers there are, or how sorry the jury feels for the aggrieved.  And finally...

6.  Turn Matters Back Over to the States, Where They Belong:

The 10th Amendment to the Constitution specifies that authority over all matters not specifically granted by the States to the Federal Government remain the province of the various States.  And nowhere is it written in our Founding Documents that the Feds were ever given authority over our citizens' health care.  Nowhere.  

Thus, my final suggestion is that the Feds determine how much it would cost to provide Medicaid/Cal to every uninsured American, and then send that money to the States according to their various populations. My own calculation places the number at somewhere between $7 Billion and $10 Billion a year to cover all the uninsured.  Compared with the $One Trillion Dollars over ten years that Obamacare costs us, that's a real bargain!  

The States would then determine how best to make sure their citizens are insured.  Whether they simply expand their Medicaid/Cal roles, like Ohio under Governor Kasich and a handful of other Republican Guvs did with the advent of Obamacare, or come up with some other delivery scenario their citizens choose.  HMO's?  PPO's?  Concierge physicians' organizations?  It would be their determination!   

Then, the voters could hold their local politicians' feet to the fire concerning the health care programs they develop and administer.  With the decisions being made much closer to the customer (the taxpayer!), the decisions are likely to be better and more responsive.  What a concept!

So, my friends, that's the Chuckmeister's Rx for what ails us. And since I spent more than 40 years in the health care industry, I'm pretty sure my plan would not only work, but would cost less also.  What do you think? If you like it, pass it along to your friends.  And ask them to do the same. Who knows?  We might actually change some minds along the way...

Update (BofA Still Sucks!).

I have had more response to the previous posting than any other I have written since starting this blog nine years ago.

Apparently there are a whole bunch of you out there in Digital Land who hate their bank and would do damn near anything to avoid dealing with it.

Well, my friends, I'm glad to say that for my entire life I didn't have to do that.  My dear departed Elaine handled that important task while I went out and made it rain.  Equal division of duties, I thought. So did she.

Now, she's gone and I'm smacked in the face with the reality that banks are inflexible, unfeeling, greedy behemoths, and that they really suck! Especially Bank of America!

So, if you haven't read the previous posting, take a moment and do so now.  It will prepare you for this update.  And if you have, good sir/madam, read on...

I left you hanging before, not knowing if BofA would actually decide to turn loose of my money.  I'm pleased to report that I finally got all the various bits and pieces of paper they demanded, jumped through all the hoops they placed in my way, maneuvered over all the speed bumps they hampered me with, got them all (expensively) notarized nice and neat, and delivered them to a flunky at the local branch.  He was kind enough to fax them away to some nameless faceless other dumbulb somewhere, and then comforted me by letting me know that everything would now be okay.  

That was fourteen days ago.

Since then I've tried to reach this same flunky to find out when - or even if - I'll get my money back.  Call backs? Ummm, no. Five voicemail messages left, zero returned calls, no money in the hand.

But hey, maybe he's been busy!

Finally I grew so impatient I went to the branch, for the sixth time in six weeks, and plopped myself in a chair in front of this bozo's desk.  I told him I did not intend to leave until I got an answer to my question:  When would BofA turn loose of my cash?  

After an hour and forty-five minutes of me waiting and him nervously making phone calls to somebody, somewhere, he had an answer. Ready?  

They were happy to report they finally had all the stuff they needed and I could look for a check in my mailbox!  That's great, I said.  But then he finished with, "Ummm, in three or four weeks."

Whaaaaaaat?

If you're one microcenton late with a payment to BofA, and probably any other bank for that matter, they will nick you with a hefty charge.  No float for you, Grasshopper!  But if they owe you money?  It takes time for processing and handling and adjusting and moving paper around on their desks and shipping and talking with each other on the phone and in person and processing and handling, doncha know. And processing. And handling.  Three of four weeks!  

Soooooo, I told Mr. Branch Manager Flunky to simply have them wire transfer the money into my account!  Simple, right? They could do that, right?  

Noooooooo!

It seems they can't do that if you're closing an account.  They have to mail you a check.  After they're done playing with your money for awhile. So, I said, don't close the account, just wire me my money.  They said they couldn't do that, because the account had to be closed since the only signatory on it has departed for the Great Beyond.

So, my friends, deep in the midst of this Catch 22, my problem is almost over.  They have everything they'll need to cough up my cash, they said, and permit me to close this sorry chapter in my life.  And never darken the Bank of America again.  Almost.  Not quite. Just a few more weeks. I'll keep you briefed...

Epilogue:

Thanks to all who provided a suggestion as to where I should take my banking business.  I promise I will consider each of them, and most likely select one.  Actually, I'm considering turning all my meager money into cash and burying it a Mason jar in my back yard.  If the way the BofA handles its banking business is indicative of the state of the banking art these days, then I'd be better off not dealing with any of them...

Can anyone recommend a good bank?

So your wife, business partner, best friend and co-parent of four lovely daughters, up and dies.

That in itself is not good.  No, my friends, not good at all. However, during your period of grief and, after more than 39 years of living with and for a partner and now having to learn to live by and for yourself once again, you will have some nagging little problems that must be dealt with as a consequence of this unfortunate circumstance.  

But you would never assume that one of these nagging little problems would be having to fight your bank of more than 41 years, which just decided to give you the brown shampoo. 

But the Bank of America just did that to me.  In spades (can I still say that?).

It seems that our BofA business checking and savings account, opened back in 1979, had only my wife as the signatory.  For some reason, perhaps because she was the one responsible for paying the bills and handling the checkbook for our family and bizz, she neglected to add me as one of those authorized to sign on the account. So, shortly after her passing, BofA contacted me with some startling, and quite unwelcome, news.  They'd placed a "hold" on the business account,  and automatic payments we'd arranged started bouncing around like BB's in a boxcar. The BofA had glommed onto the money therein and informed me in no uncertain terms that I had many, many hoops to jump through if I wanted to get my money back.  

First, they said, I'd have to call a certain number to get the ball rolling.  I did.  The guy on the other in of the phone was some French dude officed in Albuquerque.  Not only was he rude and unfeeling and insensitive about my situation, he told me I'd be lucky to get my money back before summer's end. Really.  When I blanched at the information he offered, he asked, all French-like, "Well what do you want from me?" When my response to that question was admittedly high in decibels, he hung up on me. I guess he's not aware we saved his miserable country's bacon back in WW Part Deux.

They sent me a whole bunch of forms.  Forms that had to be filled out and signed in front of a notary.  I had to wait more than a month for the death certificate, a necessary item, they said, while they counted my money.  And then I went to local branch to get them to notarize the forms.  Uhhh, no.  The local branch didn't have a notary, they told me. So, off to the UPS Store.  They were eager to assist me, for the grand sum of $15.00 for each signature.  That's fifteen bucks I'd never see again.  Then, I had to call their Estate Division to get the file opened and the process started. 

After more than 2 hours on hold, a guy came on to let me know I had a lot to do before I'd be able to close the account and get my money back. I had to have a special "signature card," which only they could provide. The guy said they'd mail it to me, which should only take a week or two, or maybe more, (or maybe never!) to arrive. Then, he told me I had to fill it out and mail it back.  Along with another special form, called the "California Small Business Affidavit."  When I asked if they could provide one, he said, "No."  Just go on Google, he said, and find it on the Internet. Nice.  They need a form that they don't provide. That's customer service for you.

So after quite a search I found such a form.  It cost "only" $5.00 to download.  I filled it out, and then noticed that it required TWO witnesses, which had to sign it in front of a notary.  A notary, again.  Oh, and my signature had to be notarized as well.  So I ran down a couple of relatives, and made arrangements for them to meet me at that same UPS Store.  That guy got another $45.00 from me just for being in my neighborhood.  So, if you're counting, that's a total of $60.00 so far that I'm out just preparing to prove to BofA that I am the lawful heir to my wife, a fine woman who I joyfully permitted to use my last name for more than 40 years.  But BofA couldn't quite get their arms around that fact. They couldn't seem to draw a connection between "Cassity & Associates," the name on the account, and Cassity, the Chuckmeister's last name.  Even though the spelling of my last name is quite rare, they just couldn't bring themselves to draw a connection, I guess.  They wanted some forms, don't you know.  They really, really need them, they said. They LIKE forms!

So once I'd filled out and signed all the necessary forms, except for that elusive "blank signature card," which STILL hasn't arrived, I called that same 800 number again.  Another 1.5 hours on hold.  A woman named "Diamond," from Atlanta, came on the line. She told me that all I had to do was go to the nearest branch and they'd download and print the form for me, and then notarize it.  I explained, somewhat loudly, I admit, that the branch manager said they couldn't do that, and didn't have a notary. She got mad and hung up on me.  I was at this exact point that I decided in no uncertain terms that whatever is left of my future did not include the Bank of America.

So, once the form arrives, maybe next week, I'll fill it out, and fax it back, along with the death certificate, and the "Letter of Instruction and Account Closure Request," and a couple of other forms that they provided me.  And then, they said, they'd get in touch with me to advise the other stuff they'd need in order to proceed.  And all this time they've got, and are using, my money.

Oh, and I might mention that I've been signing checks on this account for more than 35 years.  And they've been cashing them! Without fail. And for all those years, they just told me, I was not permitted to sign checks on this account.  You'd think a more than 100 year old bank, one that is among the largest in our great country, could figure out how to actually serve its clients.  But you'd be wrong.  

So, you'll understand that I'm more than a little miffed at BofA.  Miffed enough to look for an alternate bank to hold my less-than-vast fortune. A fortune which has been seriously depleted due to my poor departed wife's nasty disease and its treatment.  So any suggestions you might have about another bank I'd really appreciate.  If you've got a recommendation please get back to me.  And be sure to let your friends and neighbors know that, if they intend to die some day, and care about their prospective heirs, be sure to tell them to think carefully about the bank they choose to do business with today...

At the beginning of this posting I asked if anyone could recommend a good bank.  Do you think that might actually be an oxymoron?

Living...and Dying...With Cancer...

As many of you know, my wife of 38 years, Elaine, passed away recently from the ravages of cancer.

She contracted "aplastic anemia" from an unknown source almost two years ago.  We were told there was no cure, however there were available treatments to be had at the foremost treatment center for that disease on the West Coast, Scripps Green Hospital in La Jolla, California.  After much begging, pleading, haranguing, threatening and harassing, our HMO agreed to cough up the huge funds necessary to pay for such treatment (more than $1.5 Million for drugs and medications alone at last count).  And since then we've been making the journey back and forth to La Jolla on more than two hundred occasions to obtain a hoped-for cure. 

But no luck.

Aplastic anemia, also known as "bone marrow cancer," is a virulent, voracious, mean, nasty, horrendous and cold-blooded infection, that attacks all ages and races and religions and genders.  It tends to afflict those under the age of 25 primarily, but, as with Elaine, can burden those of any age.  It is also among the rarest of terminal illnesses, affecting less than 600 people annually in the United States.  

She was fond of saying, "I can get a disease that only affects 600 a year in the U.S., but can't win the (expletive omitted) lottery!"

It is among that class of ailments known as "autoimmune" diseases. That class would include multiple sclerosis, myasthenia gravis, retinitis pigmentosa, rheumatoid arthritis, Guillian-Barre Syndrome, and Lou Gehrig's Disease.  There are more than 100 such major ailments, which manifest themselves by one or more elements of the body turning in upon itself.  In Elaine's case, one of her bone marrow "T-cells" decided to turn rogue, and could not be corrected by any means her physicians attempted.

During this 22 months we were forced to make the 60-plus mile-each-way journey to La Jolla, often arriving before 8:00 a.m. and returning home after midnight, every other day! Exhausting.  But necessary.  

As I so often opined to close friends, one had to look at our situation in the "micro," head down, singularly focused, one foot in front of the other. If one looked at it in the "macro," the "big picture," so to speak, one would surely have to put a gun to one's head.  

She received more than 400 blood transfusions.  She needed more than 80 separate doctors' appointments and home nursing visits.  She was forced to undergo more than 20 surgeries, both major and minor, brought on by this dread disease.  Thousands of needle sticks.  Hundreds of infusions of noxious, toxic medicines that her doctors deemed necessary to fight this disease.  Medications that now must be disposed of by county officials so as not to foul the water table.

Aplastic anemia robbed her of her taste, her smell and her appetite, and, toward the end, negatively impacted her eyesight, her memory and her cognitive abilities.  In short, it was an all-consuming, life-changing, crippling disease, displacing nearly everything else in our lives.

And yet, she...we...fought it valiantly.  And unsuccessfully. During this year and a half-plus, she lost more than 100 pounds.  She grew frail. She was fatigued always.  Yet, she never lost her sense of humor, nor her desire and zest for life. Yes, she was truly "one-of-a-kind."

We met at a convention in Seattle waaaay back in the late 1970's. She was an R.N., and I was a marketing manager for a medical equipment manufacturer.  Yep, one of those "sleepless in Seattle" stories you so often hear about.  If there ever was a "love at first sight" situation, this was it.  

Thereafter we were almost never separated.  We started a business together, ran it together, hired and fired together, worried about finances together, traveled together, had three daughters together, oversaw their education together, and their weddings, and then the birth of their children, and our grandchildren, together. We laughed together and loved together.  Ours was truly a match made in Heaven.

And now she is in Heaven.

Cancer is a scourge. Her's was made much, much more tolerable due to the unyielding support and assistance of her daughters, her family and her friends.  And friends!  Did she ever have friends! Elaine would give you the shirt off my back!  She was famous for trying to give folks our stuff if she thought they needed it more than we did.  She "collected" people, as did I.  We did it together.  If you were friendly, you became part of our ever-growing circle of our friends. For years, as an example, we hosted annual Superbowl parties, often attended by 300 people or more.  And she loved being that sort of "Earth mother" that gathers friends like a flame gathers moths. The outpouring of grief among those friends, and family, of course, has been unprecedented. It is occurring still.  And may not ever subside.  I hope it doesn't.

Elaine is gone.  This fight was a time given to successive highs and lows. She would at one moment appear quite normal, and in the next tired, short of breath and faint. Toward the end the highs grew less high, the lows more pronounced.  Even though I had a year and one-half to try and get used to the idea of her impending demise, learning to live without her will be tough. But I have to try.  And if you knew her, so will you.

You've likely heard of the "Five Stages of Grief."  I'm past denial, and anger, and bargaining, and even depression to the maximum extent possible, and I'll soon be into acceptance.  Writing and pushing "publish" on this blog posting is one of the ways I intend to help begin to achieve that last lofty goal. And I will.  And so must you...

Goodbye, Elaine.  We will love you, and miss you, always...