Is there an editorial version of a Darwin award?

While I generally have no problem discussing healthcare reform with my more conservative friends - we're grownups and generally manage to avoid head-butting each other - I get annoyed when the more conservative publications start clutching at straws, desperate for a new way to scare the proletariat into agreement.

A fellow blogger/visitor spotted this embarrassing woopsie recently:

You’ve got things like Investor’s Business Daily running an editorial that said:
People such as scientist Stephen Hawking wouldn’t have a chance in the U.K., where the National Health Service would say the life of this brilliant man, because of his physical handicaps, is essentially worthless.

The editors at IBD* need a pants-down spanking for not checking out Hawking's passport. He's English. And Hawking bumped up the embarrassment factor with this comment to the UK's Guardian newspaper:

“I wouldn’t be here today if it were not for the NHS. I have received a large amount of high-quality treatment without which I would not have survived.”

I still hold that Americans are always going to have unique problems with healthcare reform, as our healthcare expectations are so different.  I consider myself extremely fortunate to have tried out the NHS, Australia's Medicare system, and a couple of other countries' healthcare services in person. I just wish I could explain them a bit better.  (I liked the Aussie system the best.)

For example, my oncologist friend's gross annual income is seven figures.  Yes, I know he doesn't get to keep it all, but he is not living under a bridge either.  I can't think of another country in the world where he'd make that much money. But doctors in other countries don't expect seven-figure salaries, and they're living comfortably, so they're not fretting excessively. No more than the rest of us, anyway.

I don't have an opinion of the new healthcare legislation yet for two reasons: I haven't had time to read the final version, and I think it's one of those "wait and see how it pans out" things. Besides, people got just as upset when Medicare debuted, so I figger I might as well let the furore die down.

question

Why do I always come home from shaolin class thinking about sex? I can't decide if it's the endorphins, the sense of accomplishment, or all the times I have to say "sir" to the instructor.

Things don't improve when I get home. By the time I've had a shower and dried my hair, I'm practically ready to slip into some draughty lingerie and roam the streets. Or Half-Price Books.

the libertine springs forth

Perhaps it's because I slept especially well last night. Perhaps it's because I spent the weekend doing some of my favorite things, including some solitary and rewarding bird-watching. Or perhaps it's because there was no PD* at work today; she phoned in sick, and the weather was perfect for convertible owners. All in all, it was an enjoyable Monday.

Shaolin class was good; I was able to make the 6:00 class. My favorite instructor usually teaches this one, and he was in attendance today.  He is one of the toughest instructors, but I always leave with a sense of reward and accomplishment, even if I leave limping and with sore ankles.

My biker beau Ryan, excited because I'd passed my motorcycle course, wanted me to drive down to Austin last Friday night and go riding with him Saturday. But I decided against it, partly because I suspect he wants to buy me a motorcycle. During our last conversation, he quizzed me a bit too much about bike styles, seat heights, and peg placements.

It's a gift that is tempting but would also make me uncomfortable. The prospect of his presenting me with a shiny new bike made me feel like a cautious fish eying a particularly tasty bait, but with the large and shiny hook much too visible. Remember, this is a man who I've kissed a few times, but not gone any further with.

It's not like I think he expects me to sleep with him in exchange for a motorcycle. And I like him. But I'm not entirely sure how the gift would change the status of the relationship. Plus, I think he is looking for permanency, and I am not.

It's not like I have no capacity for affection, or for commitment. I never cheated on either husband when we were together. But I just can't see myself giving up my quest for passion and adventure this year.

My only slight concern is that I realized this afternoon that I have not heard from ODD* in a while. I hope he's well, and his mother is well. Perhaps he's simply given up quirky mistresses for Lent.

* See Key to Characters at right.

A gas station I will not be patronising any time soon

licensed to spill

After another stressful day at biker school, I somehow managed to pass the test, even with a near-paralyzing case of test stress piled on to the previous day's nerves.

Afterwards, the instructor didn't go around telling us who passed and who didn't - everyone did - but he managed to puzzle everyone by saying "everyone who passed can help me pick up the cones". 

All five of us stood there and stared at him. Of course he then laughed and said "Relax. You all passed."

While we all were picking up the little orange cones - they were used to symbolize everything from parked cars to sidwalks - he came up and asked how I was doing.

He said, "You look surprised that you passed."

I snapped, "If I were you, I wouldn't have passed me."

He then assured me that I had proven that I could do the basics, and the test only signified that I could do enough to continue practicing on my own before taking to the open road.

By the time I left clutching my certificate, I had put the top down on the car and was feeling pretty cheerful. But I'm in no hurry to imitate Steve McQueen in The Great Escape just yet.