All this talk of universal health care, affirmative action, and whatnot fills me with the bloating discomfort that comes with the rise of Communism. Zombie Stalin has been roused from his great mortal slumber, so he may walk freely in the halls of our HMOs, our churches, our foyers, tracking dirt and decayed organs everywhere.
I say NO! We shall not surrender to some dead Russian who can’t even speak English. We’re American – the only ruler before which we bow is an unscrupulous oil-rich
45 million uninsured? Get a job, sickies! Stop coughing on my car, I just washed it. Eternally escalating drug costs? Ever hear of the black market? Be proactive! Contributing to the illicit transfer of necessary medications helps us market the war on drugs, another successful capitalist project. We’re pretty well inured to images of little minority kids all hopped up on goofballs; but show me a granny strung out on blood thinners, and we’ve got a new ad campaign! I can see it now: little old lady with a frying pan, feebly wailing away at her kitchen appliances. “This is your brain on nitro-glycerin. This is your brain on Cumiden.”
You’d rather have the government running things? A bunch of old white guys who’ve never had to do a minute of real work in their lives? They don’t know what’s best for this country. Leave it to us, your neighborhood international conglomerates. We know what you want; our commercials explain it quite clearly. The other CEO’s and I, distinguished men all, can trace our roots back to the very first colonies of