By William Kevin Stoos
The year was 2019, in the third term of the Reign of Obama the Secular. Owing to an extreme left wing Supreme Court stacked with four Obama appointees, who managed to declare the United States Constitution itself unconstitutional to the extent that it limited the ability of the Great One to serve no more than two terms, Obama was well on his way to becoming the first President since Roosevelt to be elected to four terms.
A generation that voted for free stuff in 2008, 2012, and 2016 begat another generation of voters who wanted free stuff. In time, the number of voters expecting free stuff—and knowing they would get it from Uncle Sugar—reached a tipping point. They soon outnumbered those who worked, paid taxes, and created jobs. For the next decade they continued to vote for politicians who promised free stuff. Of course, this ensured that the King of Free Stuff, Obama the Secular—who never met a government program he did not like—would be re-elected for life.
By 2019, the government had acquired Government Motors—which produced the Obamobile—a tinny scaled-down, politically correct Smart Car powered by chicken manure, which got 150 miles per gallon and rode two people and one sack of groceries comfortably. If you did not hit anything harder that a marshmallow, did not want to ride farther than ten miles, and did not need to carry anything, the Obamobile was great—and guaranteed not to crush you in an impact less than 5 miles per hour.
The government also owned the press, which had willingly volunteered to merge into a new federal agency comprised of ABC, MSNBC, CBS, NBC, named “The Department of ObaMedia,” whose mission it was to announce the whereabouts and accomplishments of the Great Leader, do Obama Infomercials and feed the people news as to any new government controls on their lives. All banks were nationalized and combined into one mega bank—“ObamaNational.”
Slowly, imperceptibly, the government chipped away at individual freedoms until, in time, there was very little not controlled by the government. Obama’s official motto for the Socialist States of America: “From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs” was ratified by Congress years earlier—at the same time the name of the country was changed by Executive Order. “In God We Trust” was deemed too offensive by those who either had no religion or were worried that atheists might be insulted. The new motto suited those who wanted free stuff just fine; however for those in the minority who worked hard, created wealth and jobs, paid taxes and financed the hungry beast known as the socialist federal government, it was not such a great thing. Soon the country was running out of people who created wealth and had a surplusage of people wanting free stuff. Paying 80% of your income to the government was not such a good deal any longer. Those who still wanted to work, had to work two or three jobs to make ends meet and pay for free stuff.
But by far the largest segment of the federal budget—health care—drained the country more than anything else. Years earlier, Congress—stacked with people elected by people wanting free stuff—passed what was in retrospect the ruination of the former United States of America: “Obama Universal Coverage for Health” (O.U.C.H.). Under O.U.C.H. employers were forced to provide health insurance coverage for their employees or pay a large fine for not doing so. Those who did not have jobs were automatically eligible for O.U.C.H. benefits. Those who worked for a living but could not afford private insurance and lured by the promise of a “low cost” [sic] government health care plan, elected to sign up for ObamaCare. In time private insurers could not compete with the low premiums charged by the government (and underwritten by the minority of working people who paid their taxes to the government to support anyone who wanted free stuff). Nor could the private insurers comply with the complex requirements of O.U.C.H. or the federal regulations prescribing what the private insurers could pay the dwindling number of medical doctors still in practice. The Single Payer System—which was Obama’s goal all along—had arrived, and few private insurers survived. Black market medicine was rampant and the most highly qualified doctors who remained in practice charged exorbitant premiums to the well to do patients lucky enough to afford medical care. As to the rest, they stood in line for hours hoping to see a doctor—who was paid according to a federally mandated pay scale.
In time, under O.U.C.H., premiums were set by federal legislation, medical doctors were compensated according to a strict schedule set by federal law, health care was handed out on a quota system to control costs, and a federal agency (D.E.A.T.H.) (Division of Euthanasia And Triage of Humans) determined who was worthy, and young enough, for heroic health measures. The no frills government plan was attractive to many—at first. In time, because private insurers were driven out of business, there was no insurance but the O.U.C.H. policy. Despite the promises made by the Great One years earlier, no one could keep their own policy or their own doctors and all were reduced to the lowest common denominator when it came to health care coverage. If you were not wealthy, by 2019 O.U.C.H was the only thing left. And it was driving the country into bankruptcy.
But business was good for Bob’s Plumbing. People needed plumbers. Between remodels and repairs, Bob was doing a thriving business. He was so busy in fact that he needed help. His new hire, William, was pretty good with a wrench. Intelligent, hardworking and possessed of good manual dexterity, he was certainly smart enough to be a successful plumber. Yet he had an attitude. He was a malcontent, who griped about everything. He was tedious, bitchy and got on Bob’s nerves. He clearly did not want to be there—moonlighting for Bob’s Plumbing days and working his regular job nights. Yet, he needed to be there; his regular job was not cutting it any longer.
“I didn’t go to school for this,” William whined as he slammed down his tool box and reported for work. Bob was installing a new sink for his customer. He did not have time for William’s bitching.
“Yeah,” Bob replied, “but plumbing is a good profession; trades are the place to be. I got more work than I can handle. Imagine that—a high school diploma and I am making more than some of you college boys.” Bob removed the old sink and handed it to his assistant.
“All those years of school,” William whined. “And here I am, working two jobs just to make ends meet.” He shook his head.
“What were you thinking anyway?” Bob continued. “I bet 90% of your classmates voted for the Great One, didn’t they?” The comment hit home. Bob was right. William and his classmates did indeed vote for the Great Leader—some three times. After all, Obama was young and hip. Voting for him was the thing to do. That they knew nothing about Obama did not bother them in the least. That he was a socialist, whose agenda was to “Remould the world closer to [his] heart’s desire” did not concern them in the least. Little did they know that years later they would pay for it—in ways they never imagined. What were we thinking, indeed, William thought to himself.
“Yeah,” William replied, “imagine that—making more as a plumber’s helper than my regular occupation. The government tells us what to charge, what we can make, what we can do, and how much we can do.”
“Bummer,” Bob replied, “no one tells a plumber what to charge. It’s whatever the market will bear. I am my own boss. No one from the freaking government tells me what to do.” Bob turned his head and coughed into his sleeve. It was a dry, hacky cough that just never seemed to go away. It was annoying.
“Better get that looked at,” William suggested, “that cough doesn’t sound good.”
“Wish I could,” Bob lamented, “but reached my quota last week. Been to the doctor six times already this year. Unless I want to pay a big fine. I am done till next year.”
“How is your wife?” William inquired. It had been a bad year for Bob. His wife of 40 years had been diagnosed with cancer of the liver.
“Not good,” Bob lamented “it is spreading and there is not much they can do.” He was depressed.
“Can’t they do anything else for her?” William asked, incredulous.
“Nope,” Bob continued, “she appealed to D.E.A.T.H. but they turned her down of course. She is 62 after all. They refused to authorize treatment. They have their priorities you know. So, they gave her pain killers, wished her the best, and sent her out the door. ‘Budget considerations,’ they told us. The cut off was lowered to 62 last year you know. No surgery, no heroic measures. As The Great One once said: “When you get a certain age, you just have to live with it and roll with the punches. We can’t expect to live forever.” I guess the thing than bugs me most is that D.E.A.T.H. thinks 62 is a ripe old age when it comes to dispensing medical care.”
“That’s just the way it is I guess,” said William, disgusted. “We have unlimited funds for abortion, and limited funds for seniors. We kill the nearly born and deprive the nearly old. Helps keep down the cost.”
The two worked in silence for a few moments, totally dejected. Bob—with his own problems and a 62 year old wife who was too young to die but too old to treat—and William—working two jobs because the job he trained for was not enough to support his young family. Life was not what either had supposed. But there was work to do and Bob was getting tired of thinking about it all. Mostly, he was tired of William’s constant moaning.
“Well,” Bob bristled, “if you want to quit, feel free. There are fifty others like you who would love to have this job. You can always go back to your regular job. Your fault after all,” Bob noted. “You could have had a good career; you could have been a plumber or a carpenter. You could have been something. No one forced you to become a vascular surgeon. So, shut up, Doctor, and hand me the wrench!”http://canadafreepress.com/index.php/print-friendly/59205