Heathen back weh pon de wall! (Bob Marley)
We are gathered here today…
Living in Kolobian Exile, I pretty much adhere to two mantras:
1. Rehab is for quitters
2. Thank God I’m an atheist
The latter hasn’t worked out so well. When my sister was married in Fort Benton Montana, the minute I sat down in the pew of the local Methodist Church, the lights went out all over town. My sis and bro in law were married by candlelight. Beautiful service. Not a dry eye in the, um, house. My Mom gave me the hairy eyeball the entire weekend. (My Assyrian* mother, who could wield a wooden spoon with the same deft viciousness as any Nun with a ruler, told me about a month ago that all my troubles started when she bought me that subscription to Rolling Stone magazine and I quit going to Church.)
*Will the last Christian in Syria and Iraq please turn out the lights?
But my blackheart has been rent asunder by the 4o years in the wilderness our friend Tammany Tiger and Mrs. T have gone through trying to sign up for an individually mandated “affordable” health insurance plan. 50 hours or 50 tries? Both?
And…? What type of meat does Pope Frankie One Stick eat on Friday?…none. (Get your minds out of the gutter, infidels! I’m referring to T & T’s attempts to get a goddam health plan.) Judas Priest! Still no luck for them? That’s a pretty heavy cross to bear for being forced to buy something your Pontius Pilate of a President can’t figure out how to sell you.
So I am temporarily suspending Commandment 2. (As opposed to the Mormons, the Church of Natty only takes 5% gross. “Save your soul for half the price!”) I am so bereft of my faithful agnosticism, that I feel that maybe, after all, divine intervention is what will be needed. Since Jesus is obviously not my homie, I went for my own Holy Trinity.
On my drive back from a week long Baccanalia in Vegas, I invoked help from a veritable cosmological cocktail of Marduk, Vishnu and Jah Rastafari. Thanksgiving indeed!
I’ve been a Doubting Thomas since Bomb Marley’s FISA vote. Thusly, like Peter on the road to Damascus, I have verily denied the omniscience and omnipotence laid down by Pope Valerie Jarrett about our Lord and Savior Barack W. Obama. Not once, not twice, not thrice; but like a million times. All I know from the Gospels of our Corporate Messiah is: “If you like your health plan, you can keep your health plan.” That cock crows all right. That’s about all He does.
Such apostasy has led to my being cast out of the Guayanan People’s Temple that is Daily Kooz and Moo-ve On.org. (I am pre-diabetic and can’t take the risk of drinking any Kool Aid less I get bumped onto one of Max Baucus’ Wellpoint administered death panels.)
Verily, as Ham looked upon his father Noah in shame, thus do I avert my gaze from MSDNC. But desperate times call for desperate measures. The outrage of this Golden Calf Law has me bellowing like Nebuchadnezzar eating grass (Daniel 4:33) in a bout of Tourette’s style glossolalia straight out of Linda Blair and The Exorcist. “Your mother suck’s cox in Hell”…..Brutal.
Don’t fret true believer zealots, I will get what is coming to me in 2018. It’s Masada time for those of us in Obamacare’s “Children’s Crusade”. We, especially public leeches, I mean public employees, who traded salary increases for health benefits. As a greedy Pharisee with my Golden Chariot employer paid health plan, I will be summarily cast into the brimstone and fire that is Obamacare Purgatory. Nailed to the Cross by AHIP and Big Pharma where I will be forced to pay retail (oy vey!) for my 2 dollar gout medicine and 3 dollar blood pressure pill.
When JC took that love tap from the Spear of Destiny, that is gonna cost Him a lot more than 25 shekel co-pays and 90%/10% split on the hospital stay. (No joke, I returned to Utah from last Thanksgiving’s pilgrimage to Las Vegas with a staph infection/blood sepsis “buffet” that put me in ICU for 3 days. I had something my GP said he hadn’t heard about since Med School! That’s the last thing you ever want to hear from a Doctor. 5 day stay and about a dozen office followups (wound care!) Billed out at $30k. I paid $600 bucks.)
Thus from the homily of my Father who art in Fort Benton, “I feel like a whore in church for saying this”:
So I’m performing an auto da fe (suck it Obots*) in the hope that maybe President Christie performs some sort of exorcism to cast out this demonic Obamacare in 2017. Talk about your deathbed conversions: I feel I must make penance, puja, baraka and/or mitzvah. (I’m too much of a pansy for Ashura style.) My own sort of personal Hail Mary. You name it I’ll perform it on behalf of my lesser indulged – do they still do indulgences? – brethren and sistren.
*(Not literally in the case of Valerie Jarrett, Melissa Raceworst Perry, Maddow, Oprah)
Because you know what today is don’t you? Nov. 30 is the glorious day Healthkludge.com rises from the dead, rolls back that rock and Ta Da! and becomes Hosannacare*. Hallelu-Jah indeed!
*(I hope that doesn’t mean we get six more weeks of winter.)
Pray loud and long that our Lord and Savior, along with his altar-girl Sebelius, don’t have to reach for the whiteout on yet another Red Line. May there be a Salvation Army of computer Jihadis with their 5 1/4″ MS-DOS floppy disks and 56k dial up modems to part this Red Sea of heresy for the Job’s and Jobette’s out there trying to “pick the beam from thine eye” (Matthew 7:5) in front of their computer screens, smart phones and tablets.
Thusly (and variously), the unwashed heathens like Tammany and Mrs. T can revel in the glory of Heavenly high deductibles, Bible page thin networks and endless rounds of Doctor Roulette. Having just returned from my own Haj to the town where prayers are offered with every spin of the wheel, I can assure you that this Obamacare Roulette Wheel has nothing but 0’s and 00’s. “If you like your health plan, you can keep your health plan.” About as ripe as Nixon’s “I am not a crook.”
So join me on my Cru-Had*, won’t you? Bow your head, burn some of that Collie-rado incense, let the vapors inspire, rinse and repeat and then invoke spiritual sustenance from whatever vengeful Skygod, tree root or extra terrestrial entity gives you the Power of the Gospel. (Ben Harper tune that I love.) (Might I suggest my preferred guiding lights: the Anunnaki)
*(Cru-Had is a word that I made up, as far as I know and use for pretty much anything that pisses me off. Crusade plus Jihad = Cruhad or Cru-Had.)
I’m hoping Tammany Tiger reads this, while waiting for the old AOL log-on tone from the 90’s; pulling the slot machine wheel on Healthcare.gov: “Yoooooooou’ve ….Gaaaahhhht …..Obaaaaaaamacaaaaaaresnzzzzzz”. Or maybe one of you pilgrims might forward this homily his way. Since Obama has washed his hands of “if you like your health plan, you can keep your health plan”, I am trying to do the opposite and metaphorically “wash T’Tiger’s feet” with my tears (Luke 7:44) of frustration for those forced to walk through the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23:4) trying to sign up for Obamacare to enrich a cartel that certainly does not believe in the concept of Jubilee.
I’m a missionary for unleashing a “Jihad of Biblical proportions” to stop this fascist heresy from taking hold. It’s “Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin”* time for the Democrats who aren’t lame ducks but merely lame. They better pivot to Medicare for All or Public Option quicker than our Nubian Nero in the White House picks a name at random to kill off his drone list. Bug-splatting them and their children “to the lions”, so to speak. It’s time to kick the money changers out of the health care insurance Temple. Selah!
*(The writing is on the wall)
My favorite part of attending Church every Sunday, when my Dad was on the City Council, was The Benediction. “Blessed are the meek for they are the children of Heaven”. I guess that is from the Beatletudes but I know it from dozens of Reggae songs. If you want to learn the Bible, just listen to a steady diet of Reggae music when you are on the phone trying to buy a shitty health care plan that will bankrupt you before the first nickel of coverage is sent your way.
Enough preachifying, stop me before I say “you folks” all MLK-like per our Golden Ruler in the White House. Off to my, uh, Burning Bush….
Alhamdu lillah y’all (one more invocation just in case. Don’t tell my mom or she will humble me with the wooden spoon. I’d rather spend five more days in the hospital)
Reverend Natty J. Rebel, “The J is for Jahovah!”
-The Church of Natty
“Saving souls for half the price since 2009”