Anyone mind if I take care of a few things here? Good. First off…
1) Ramone, I appreciate your contributions here, because you obviously have a lot invested in your hatred of deadbeats, and it’s always good to see a guy who’s got some passion. But ever since your other comments, most notably about my “money and plastic and keys to important houses, and the turtleneck-wearing ID to [my] so-called Pubic Ivy”… you gave your mean-spiritedness away long ago.
But let’s just take you at face value. Anyone who writes that obese men at an NFL game are all voting for Hillary – I dunno, it strains the imagination that you’re trying very hard here. As for your other facts and figures, and your analysis thereof, I can’t find fault with the way you feel. It’s obvious how many people in America bother you, and while you think liberalism encourages handouts and a subsequent loss of dignity, I think you have no concept of the suffering of the lower classes in this country and you’ve lost the distinction between miserly and mean. Which one of us is right? Being the liberal, I’m open to discussion.
Your wife is much nicer than you are, so at least we have that in common.
2) The feedback I’ve gotten from a number of friends (who lurk on here) is amazement at the amount of antipathy directed at artists over the last week or so. I have to admit, I was expecting the usual eye-rolling, but nothing compared to the comments and emails that came my way. Again, the common theme is that we’re all “getting away with it” and thus have lost all permission to complain (or, apparently, to go on strike). In lieu of other emotions, I have decided to find it “interesting.”
Whatever. When capitalism takes over absolutely fucking everything, have fun buying your paintings at Target. To paraphrase Green Day, I guess we’ll have to be content being Faggot America™. In the meantime, if you hate your job, please don’t take it out on me. This is where I agree with Ramone: you made your own goddamn bed.
3) Our babysitter, an absolutely wonderful woman named L., accidentally poked her finger on a palm frond near her house in downtown Los Angeles last Monday. Not being able to afford health insurance for herself (she’s already partially caring for her grandson), she checked into the emergency room, as her finger went numb.
She sat in the emergency room for four days. Meanwhile, the numbness and nerve damage crept up her arm. At the end of the fourth day, she was finally seen, having not slept for about 36 hours, with the pain throbbing through her body. She woke up from her operation with a bill for $18,000.
Yes, she could have come straight to us and we would have paid cash to get her seen right away. But now she is on a payment plan to the hospital every month for the next twenty years. A single mom with two kids living at home, and partial caretaker to a small baby, barely earning above the poverty line. Who touched a palm frond.
4) Since we live near the beach, the fires raging out of control are all around us, but many miles from our neighborhood. Our thoughts go out to commenter Rebecca and the million+ people who have evacuated their homes – and hope they return to find they’d been spared.