An open letter to America, regarding certain recent developments

Dear America,

Please, sit down. I think we’re long overdue for a chat, don’t you?

You can sit closer if you want. Communism is contagious I hear, but I don’t think you catch it that way.

Anyway, America, I want to talk to you about the state of your health. I know, I know, I can already hear your objection before I open my mouth. It’s none of my business. I’m not American, I have my own healthcare system—but I really am concerned for you.

Sure, we’ve had our differences in the past. Genocide, slavery, imperialist wars, environmental devastation, reality TV…but you’re the one who’s always saying we should put the past behind us. And there have been good times too. Hey, you make all of those great trashy movies about things blowing up. I love those movies.

Plus, you know, I might bash you all the time, but some of my best friends are American. Bet that sounds familiar.

So yes. About your health. Or, more to the point, about your foaming-at-the-mouth, hysterical, illogical, and dismally worded objections to Obama’s healthcare plan. No one’s claiming it’s perfect—don’t worry, I’m pretty sure it’s still worse than Cuba’s. But I think your virulent opposition and random swastika schtick is, well, misguided. (And offensive, but I’m trying not to judge. Look at me, being all non-judgmental, and enjoy it while it lasts.) And I didn’t understand it until just now.

See, I can envision the streets filling up with HMO managers and maybe the odd smug rich asshole who delights in drinking the tears of orphans, but the rest of you? You can’t all have great health insurance. I know at least some of you confused little souls don’t have any at all.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I’ve been thinking, hey, maybe Americans aren’t very good at math and don’t realize that you’re spending more per capita on health care than anyone else in the industrialized world, and getting less for it. But we can clear that misconception right up with cunning use of actual numbers.

The thought crosses my mind on occasion that many Americans are just assholes. (I told you the nonjudgmental act wouldn’t last.) Maybe you don’t care that you’re drowning as long as you take the other guy down with you. But that’s uncharitable, and I think better of you, America, I really do.

I wonder if maybe you oppose healthcare reform because you’re convinced that Jesus is coming and you’re going to get Raptured before you die of cancer caused by all of the toxins you dump into your food, water, and air. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t think you’re going to die. Okay, I was 13 once and wanted to be a vampire too and that’s kind of like what you believe. (Except that even at 13, I knew I wasn’t going to get to be an immortal creature of the night. Because I wasn’t stupid. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume that the Rapture is real and going to happen in your lifetime.)

Level with me here, America. What if the Rapture is coming next year, but tomorrow, you suddenly get cancer? And you’re uninsured, or maybe your insurance plan is good but still won’t cover experimental treatments that will prolong your life until Jesus comes back. You’re going to have to go through all that messy dying stuff instead of just getting treatment and surviving long enough for you to be lifted up to heaven to be with the angels and watch Jesus slaughter the infidels with his laser beam eyes. Do you want that, America? Do you really?

(Right now, you’re saying, “Well, I’m in good health, I’m employed, I have a decent plan, so I’ll probably live to see the Rapture.” But shit happens, America. Trust me, I know. And even if you’re okay, what about your dear granny that you claim to love so much? Will she live long enough to see Jesus? Are you positive?)

All I can conclude from this, America, is that there is no logic behind your opposition to health care reform. It is instead a deep primal desire for death— Thanatos, as our Freudian friends would call it. You hate yourselves, and you want it all to end.

I’m really sorry, America, that you feel this way. But I urge you to hang on. We may have had a hostile relationship in the past, but now I’m begging you to move forward, to find a reason to live. I don’t hate you, and I don’t want you to die because it costs too much to save your life. No, not even you, gormless multitudes with your incomprehensible signs and pictures of Obama painted up like the Joker. (Seriously, though, what’s with that? Don't most people think the Joker is fucking awesome anyway?) Not even you, woman in the IDF shirt screaming “Heil Hitler.” If I wish death upon you, let it come when we finally have an international proletarian revolution and you’re up against the wall for being a fascist, not because your HMO wouldn’t approve that treatment that would have saved your life.

Because that’s what it comes down to, America. Every human being in the world deserves the best possible health care, regardless of income, immigration status, or how fucking stupid you are. Even you, America. Even you deserve better than this.

An open letter to America, regarding certain recent developments

Dear America,

Please, sit down. I think we’re long overdue for a chat, don’t you?

You can sit closer if you want. Communism is contagious I hear, but I don’t think you catch it that way.

Anyway, America, I want to talk to you about the state of your health. I know, I know, I can already hear your objection before I open my mouth. It’s none of my business. I’m not American, I have my own healthcare system—but I really am concerned for you.

Sure, we’ve had our differences in the past. Genocide, slavery, imperialist wars, environmental devastation, reality TV…but you’re the one who’s always saying we should put the past behind us. And there have been good times too. Hey, you make all of those great trashy movies about things blowing up. I love those movies.

Plus, you know, I might bash you all the time, but some of my best friends are American. Bet that sounds familiar.

So yes. About your health. Or, more to the point, about your foaming-at-the-mouth, hysterical, illogical, and dismally worded objections to Obama’s healthcare plan. No one’s claiming it’s perfect—don’t worry, I’m pretty sure it’s still worse than Cuba’s. But I think your virulent opposition and random swastika schtick is, well, misguided. (And offensive, but I’m trying not to judge. Look at me, being all non-judgmental, and enjoy it while it lasts.) And I didn’t understand it until just now.

See, I can envision the streets filling up with HMO managers and maybe the odd smug rich asshole who delights in drinking the tears of orphans, but the rest of you? You can’t all have great health insurance. I know at least some of you confused little souls don’t have any at all.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I’ve been thinking, hey, maybe Americans aren’t very good at math and don’t realize that you’re spending more per capita on health care than anyone else in the industrialized world, and getting less for it. But we can clear that misconception right up with cunning use of actual numbers.

The thought crosses my mind on occasion that many Americans are just assholes. (I told you the nonjudgmental act wouldn’t last.) Maybe you don’t care that you’re drowning as long as you take the other guy down with you. But that’s uncharitable, and I think better of you, America, I really do.

I wonder if maybe you oppose healthcare reform because you’re convinced that Jesus is coming and you’re going to get Raptured before you die of cancer caused by all of the toxins you dump into your food, water, and air. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t think you’re going to die. Okay, I was 13 once and wanted to be a vampire too and that’s kind of like what you believe. (Except that even at 13, I knew I wasn’t going to get to be an immortal creature of the night. Because I wasn’t stupid. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume that the Rapture is real and going to happen in your lifetime.)

Level with me here, America. What if the Rapture is coming next year, but tomorrow, you suddenly get cancer? And you’re uninsured, or maybe your insurance plan is good but still won’t cover experimental treatments that will prolong your life until Jesus comes back. You’re going to have to go through all that messy dying stuff instead of just getting treatment and surviving long enough for you to be lifted up to heaven to be with the angels and watch Jesus slaughter the infidels with his laser beam eyes. Do you want that, America? Do you really?

(Right now, you’re saying, “Well, I’m in good health, I’m employed, I have a decent plan, so I’ll probably live to see the Rapture.” But shit happens, America. Trust me, I know. And even if you’re okay, what about your dear granny that you claim to love so much? Will she live long enough to see Jesus? Are you positive?)

All I can conclude from this, America, is that there is no logic behind your opposition to health care reform. It is instead a deep primal desire for death— Thanatos, as our Freudian friends would call it. You hate yourselves, and you want it all to end.

I’m really sorry, America, that you feel this way. But I urge you to hang on. We may have had a hostile relationship in the past, but now I’m begging you to move forward, to find a reason to live. I don’t hate you, and I don’t want you to die because it costs too much to save your life. No, not even you, gormless multitudes with your incomprehensible signs and pictures of Obama painted up like the Joker. (Seriously, though, what’s with that? Don't most people think the Joker is fucking awesome anyway?) Not even you, woman in the IDF shirt screaming “Heil Hitler.” If I wish death upon you, let it come when we finally have an international proletarian revolution and you’re up against the wall for being a fascist, not because your HMO wouldn’t approve that treatment that would have saved your life.

Because that’s what it comes down to, America. Every human being in the world deserves the best possible health care, regardless of income, immigration status, or how fucking stupid you are. Even you, America. Even you deserve better than this.