• Back on the healthcare rant

    I love it when folks say: “I want my doctor making treatment decisions, not the government,” as if an insurance company never set treatment terms.

    I loved it even more when our insurance company said they wouldn’t cover treatment for Beth’s Aspergers. Why? “Because Florida Law only requires us to cover treatment for Aspergers if it’s diagnosed before a child turns eight.”

    Translation: “We wouldn’t cover you losers at all if it weren’t for those meddling, socialist pigs in government.”

    If you don’t like your insurance, you can just switch, right? I mean, that’s the beauty of the free market. How many of you have a job that offers a wide selection of insurance providers? No? Well, you could just switch jobs, right? Yeah, that’s the ticket. In this economy, finding another job should be no problem. Oh crap! That’s right. There will probably be a temporary exclusion of pre-existing conditions if you switch jobs and insurance (temporary – not permanent – because of those meddling socialists again).

    Regulation isn’t sexy and it’s easy to pick on. The problem is, you never know when it’s working. There are few eureka moments where you learn a regulation kept you safe, healthy, or alive. Too often you don’t know they’re there until someone finds a bad one, a business ignores one (aided and abetted by a willingly blind, often Republican administration), or one doesn’t go far enough.

    But isn’t regulation the opposite of freedom? Yeah, isn’t it grand when your insurance company is free to screw you over?

    —

    I wanted to say something really crude about protesting taxation with representation today… but I’ll hold off for now. I’m angry enough about the insurance thing. I could get myself in some real trouble with a double rant.

  • Storm front

    A picture from the St Pete Times – almost the same view I had from my office this morning.

  • Confession – I am a child

    I am childlike. In some contexts this statement could be seen as a compliment. It’s not meant to be one this time.

    I hate to cook. I love to cook.

    I hate the idea of cooking on the drive home, after a particularly long day at the office. Once I get home and start slinging pots, pans and ingredients… I’m in love.

    I’m not particularly creative, daring, or good. But I’ll take the occasional chance. Like tonight. I don’t know if I’ll be able to replicate one of tonight’s dishes – if anyone wants me to when it’s finished. I lost track of spices. All I know is I started with rinsed quinoa and chicken broth.

    If I were more mature, I think I’d look forward to cooking. I’d see through the haze of fatigue to something I enjoy. It would be something I’d look forward to after a bad day.

    I suppose none of that matters now though. Right now I’m having fun.