Tis the night before Christmas

I said with a smirk

Not a thing makes me happy

Cause I’m stuck at work.



My coworkers and I

Looking pissed off and grim

Were working like slaves

Cause the boss locked us in



The stockings were hung

On the oven with care

In the hopes that my

Underpaid ass would be there



The children were all tucked in

Thanks to my mom

Thanks God for bored Grandparents

They are ‘da Bomb!



And me in my high heels

And coffee on tap

Had just settled in

To take some more crap



After 14 straight hours

Of nagging phone calls

We heard a disaster

Right out in the hall



Away to the glass doors

We flew in a minute

Ran out in the hallway

To see who was in it



The moonlight reflected

On broken sharp glass

And my scrooge of a boss

Was laid out on her ass



She was covered in cheese balls

And red Maneschewitz

Her salmon gift basked

Was tore up and shredded



Crackers and caviar

Splattered the wall

Cause the Salvation Army

Had paid her a call



In a shiny red suit

With his kettle and bell

A Jolly old Santa

Cried out with a yell



She’d tried to shove past him

All snobbish and crass

Tripped over his tripod

And fell on her ass



He reached out to help her

That frigid old shrew

When she slapped him away

And screamed out “I’ll Sue!”





Do you see that Menorah

She screeched like a witch

And he said with a grin

“It ain’t Hannukah Bitch!”



“Tis the season of Christmas

Good tidings and more

For helping the needy

The sick and the poor”



“I help them out plenty”

She spat in the gloom

“Just send them on over

I’ll rent them a room.”



“You can send them in buses

In cars or in coaches

I’ll give them a place

They can share with the roaches”



Poor old Santa went white

The same shade as his beard

He simply could not believe

What he’d heard



“That’s revolting” he said

As she shrugged off the cheese

Then she did something awful

And he sank to his knees



We stood there in horror

At the end of the hall

While she used her Prada’s

On his Jingle Balls



As he lay there in pain

Writhing hard on the floor

She picked up her fish

And walked straight for the door



When what to our wondering eyes

Did appear

But a bear of a man

In Armani snow gear



His jewelry was tasteful

Manly and well done

And the gold on his fingers

Didn’t clash with his gun



He saw the poor fat man

And said “What the heck”

Head turning on shoulders

Cause he had No Neck!



He then drew a bead

On her pointy old head

Squeezed off a few rounds

And shot the bitch dead



As he passed by the carcass

That lovely old Mick

He hissed through his lips

“No one fucks with St. Nick”

Looking out at the cold, gray morning through the windshield of my ride, I see the things I usually see each day; people rushing here and there like ants on crack stopping to get breakfast, go to the store, get gas, run mini errands and still try to get to work on time. Now I love cold, gray mornings and foggy, misty starts to my day so these things don’t bother me as much as they would if it were hot and muggy as summer can be. I happily cruise on in to my local Starbucks where I expect to see the homeless man that us usually there each day. The one who quietly sits with his cup hoping someone will buy him a meal that day and wishing everyone a good morning and good day. I try to give him something each time if I remember to put cash in my wallet instead of skating on plastic. I make the turn already savoring the taste of a hot white mocha latte warming my body as it runs down my throat. The anticipation of such a soothing experience is almost as good as the drink itself. And then it happens…………..he isn’t there. Someone whom I have never seen before has taken his place. He is ranting at someone in a parked car. I can’t hear what he is saying but he is obviously upset. He’s not old or dirty just rumpled and obviously homeless. He wanders around with a radio yelling and conversing with everyone and no one, all the while begging for money to buy a cup. I park a couple of spots away and try to think of a way to get around him but I have no choice but to walk by. In the space of the three seconds it takes me to pass him by, his entire life story laid before me with one sentence. He is one of the many people facing unemployment who can’t get a job in this economy. I was one of them for 8 months and by the grace of God I managed to find another job before my benefits ran out so I can sympathize with him. But his fate is what mine could have been and that frightens me more than this middle aged, well groomed, angry man in need of a caffeine boost. As I stand in line, I wonder if that is what I would have been reduced to; standing in front of my local Starbucks wearing old torn shorts and a camouflage backpack carrying everything I own, yelling and selling to an imaginary board room while Johnny B Good plays on my $20 boom box as I beg for cappucino. Begging for a latte or a frappucino….maybe. But I was a child of the 60’s so Chuck Berry is a little dated for me. I would probably have been shouting out to Lynard Skynard or Led Zeppelin. Oh hell, I probably would have gone for the jugular, straight to yuppie hell and cranked out Aerosmith. Even with my favorite music urging me on, the thought of being a homeless coffee junkie is frightening. Is that what our society has devolved into? Is this the result of a drug culture gone mad? Even our homeless yuppies are foregoing food for a fix… of anything!

When I was a child, we took pity on our homeless and invited them to spend a thanksgiving dinner at our table. Just one act of kindness that we were able to give once a year to let them know that they are not forgotten nor are they unwelcome in our society. That someone out there cared. Back then being unemployed and homeless was not the norm. It was a cruel exception to the human condition and was deserving of compassion. But in these troubled times, it has become the norm. Traffic is half of what it used to be and getting around is much easier but the lost and troubled are walking and talking everywhere. How long will it be before it isn’t just Middle America that is suffering? How long before the mighty magnates of the new era are brought low? Will we one day see Al Gore at the bottom of an offramp with a rechargeable solar powered sign begging for a job in the private sector? Would you throw a dollar to Donald Trump if he were playing a guitar and begging for change on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City? What would we do if we encountered Oprah Winfrey and the Kardashians outside of their plastic surgeon’s offices bearing signs that said “will work for Liposuction”? Would there be an ounce of compassion left in our souls should we encounter Warren Buffett, Martha Stewart or Bernie Madoff at a homeless shelter on Thanksgiving?

Losing everything is not that distance a threat these days. With Obamanomic manipulated socialism underway, over 90% of us are walking the poverty tightrope just barely surviving week to week. The equity that was Middle Class America is being siphoned off quicker than the oil in the Gulf of Mexico. Would someone be compassionate enough to help me should I fall? Am I even worthy of that compassion? I hope so. I hope that what small things I often do for the less fortunate; the dollar here and there, the old clothes that I can no longer wear, the change that I don’t need, the extra food that I won’t eat that I gladly give them, haven’t gone cosmically unnoticed. I suppose if I wanted to continue in God’s good graces I couldn’t turn my back on the formerly wealthy simply because they had once lived better than I. Warren would be worth a week's worth of dinners considering that he is charging around a million for 1/2 hour of appetizers and some investing advice these days. Martha would definitely be worth some meal time if only for the decorating tips she could give. I may keep feeding her long enough to do a whole renovation. I might throw “The Donald” a couple of Benjamins but only if he performed without the hair piece. It’s unlikely he would fall quite that far given his vast skills as an orator. I’m sure someone in a human resources department somewhere could employ him to walk into people’s offices and say “You’re Fired!”. Bernie on the other hand would be a challenge. I think I would be bound to do the Christian thing and invite him to a family meal of caviar, salmon and/or prime rib with crème brulee for desert, but then feed him Manwich on .99¢ plain wrap buns while the rest of us ate. Hey, there has to be cosmic justice somewhere. But Al Gore can kiss my ass for starting this whole global warming panic. Let him eat grass with the rest of the cattle and keep contributing to green house gases with his speeches.

In the light of day, when the sun is shining and the world is moving ever forward, we consider our goals and dreams and ponder "what if...?" What if I quit and start my own business? What if I say hi to that cute guy in the Starbucks today? What if I win the lottery? What if I go back to school? We let our imaginations soar and hearts take flight and we ask "what if?" with all the expectation of hope we can experience.

But it's not sunny outside or even daylight. It's 2:30 in the morning and the world is pitch black. I'm cocooned in my blankets to keep off the night chill. I rub my hands along the cool cotton sheets in an effort to lull myself back to sleep. But I can't because my mind keeps asking "what if?" I don't want to ponder this question in the dead of night. There's no sun to give me hope. There's no hustle and bustle to keep my mind moving ever forward with possibilities. There is only darkness, the quiet little beeping of a thousand preset electronic gizmos that must run continuously. Outside these blankets there is only cold, still air. In this space at this time "what if?" is ominous. "What if?" becomes the manifestation of my regrets and my fears. What if I had payed closer attention to the recruiter at school sold me a bill of goods? What if I try to open my business and fail? What if I say hi to the cute guy at Starbucks and he looks at me with disgust? What if I never escape my job that I hate? Sometimes, it gets even more ominous than this. I struggle to redirect my mind and force it into a pleasant dream state. I flood my mind with fantasies and sexual imagery. Anything to stop the oncoming introspection but it's to no avail. I don't want to relive the pains of the past that I know "what if?" will bring. What if I had been a better wife? What if I had stayed pregnant? What if I had actively gone looking for Mr. Right instead of settling? What if I'm not meant to have a family of my own? What if I am being punished for how I have wasted my life? What if I am just doomed to be alone forever? My mind swirls like a television set flying through channels because someone is sitting on the remote. The life I want. The life I have. The life that is so far outside of my reach. My fanatasies. My dreams. All of it fighting for supremacy in my exhausted mind.

But then "what if" throws a question that silences everything and makes me consider the truth of my life. What if you had refused to take the job you hate? I would never have met the wonderful friends that I know and love even though they are leaving me for parts unknown and I am saddened by the distance. What if you hadn't moved back home after your relationship ended? I reach out and caress the thick fur of my sleeping cat who instantly begins to purr with love. The answer to what if: I would have been broke and alone and he would have died. I would've missed the opportunity to rescue him from the streets, share his life, and enjoy the wonderful companion that he has become. What if you had left home and moved away like all of your friends? I would not have been there when my mother's breast cancer had arrived or when she was shaking and crying with grief at the loss of her dearest friend. What if I had made different decisions in life than the ones I had? Maybe I would have been rich and powerful and thin....but I would not have loved the people that I love. I would not have enjoyed the moments that I have enjoyed. I would have missed a lot of pain but more importantly I would have missed joy.

The answer to "What if" is simply this: it doesn't matter what if because it never happened. What matters is not "what if" but "what next". Regret belongs in the past and not in the present. Bury it deep in your heart with the most painful of experiences and lock the door. Fear is a product of the night and when you are alone it can be powerful and daunting. I think we live in fear because we fear living. That is not life. That is death. I don't want to die so I must live beyond fear. And so I will wake tomorrow and not ask "what if?". I will not face the day in fear. I will ask "what next".

I think I can finally sleep now.

We live in an age of modern miracles. Miracles that have surpassed the expectations of those only a generation before us. Our phones are so smart they can run our agendas like a tiny private secretary. Computers are interactive to the point where you don't even need fingers to use one. In fact, everything in our lives can be preset and programmed to go on and off at will. We can even pause our electronic gadgets so that we can multitask without missing a beat or an episode of Lost (Yes, Teresa Huang was totally awesome!).

But this age of modern miracles has consequences that we don't stop to consider. We can instantaneously transmit our thoughts and actions throughout the world (often with incredibly embarrassing results because they are entirely out of context). We upload our actions for public viewing without a second thought (until the police come knocking on our doors and suddenly YouTube becomes evidence). We digitize our most private moments thinking it will be fun to watch as foreplay. We don't consider that 5 million other people including your parents, your boss, your friends, and your pastor who all downloaded them thanks to your bitter ex-boyfriend, are thinking the same thing while simultaneously laughing at the cellulite on your ass.

If we would all stop to consider the consequences of technology, perhaps we would use it with more restraint. Technology is a wonderful thing. It is a testament to the creativity and limitless abilities of mankind across the globe. But we behave like a gaggle of idiots the minute we get our hands on it. And although we like to blame children for its misuse I firmly believe that it is adults who have set the example for their wreckless behavior. We send conflicting signals of appropriate behavior that literally short circuit young minds. Adults are a case study in contradictions and young people just can't cope. Ever heard a group of teenagers describe their parents to each other? Pull out a thesaurus and look up "weird."

Parents protest loudly how innoculations, caffeine loaded sodas and energy drinks cause autism and ADD in their children, then drag them into Starbucks for 10-pump mocha cappucinos before dropping them off at school. We march for freedom of speech and fight against censorship and then complain that our children are being exposed to pornography, drugs and violence in media. Our popular actors and singers make porn tapes left and right then sell them on the internet or make careers out of their bad judgement while we we prosecute teens for sexting.

Now I am a firm believer in progress, freedom of speech, and technology. I don't believe in censorship of any kind. I also firmly believe that people, especially parents, have an obligation to consider the ramifications of these freedoms and we are all required to practice and pass on the appropriate use of them. I was throughly blessed with a mother who exposed me to everything and restricted me from nothing but who also was at my side to discuss and explain what I was exposed to and its place in society. I was never left to my own devices to make what I would of violence on tv or sexual content. She always explained the difference between fantasy and reality. I always had her ear and could ask anything I wanted. She worked very hard and had a career that often took her out on the road. But no matter what, she made time for me even if it was on the phone. She never shirked her duties as a parent and I thank her for that every day of my life. But I was one of the lucky ones.

As a society, we need to practice and teach responsibility. The prevailing attitude of "Do as I say, not as I do" is laughable as an excuse for our behavior and our indulgences. Maybe if more parents would communicate with their children about the consequences and possible dangers of misuse of the marvels of our society, more of them would grow up making sound, informed decisions instead of acting impulsively and paying eternally. And if an adult screws up and does something stupid or careless, instead of lying or dimissing your child, admit that you screwed up and shouldn't have done it. Then don't do it again and make sure that your child knows you won't be doing it again. We can survive in a free world and maintain our sense of morality and enlightenment if we just stop and think. And if you absolutely find it impossible to do so, simply set your smartphone, i-Pad, or computer to send you friendly little reminders to pause and consider your actions before you pick up that joint, send that e-mail or text, or hit the "record" button.

As a nation, we have forgotten that when when weilded by a skilled master, politics can be the most powerful weapon of change for the world today. It can start and end wars without firing a single shot, alter the bounderies, cultures, and consciousness of an entire country, and change global environments. But when practiced by Dickheads, it can confuse and confound the most worldly and educated among us. It becomes a dance of dimwittedness performed with such audacity that it would score a perfect 10 in the Moron Olympics. And nowhere does this performance get more muddied than in the mind of the average working class citizen (provided he or she has at least the minimum number of life sustaining brain cells firing).

This miasma quickly turns to a chunky sludge when politics is examined from the perspective of those individuals who are lovingly referred to as "Intellectually Challenged" by the politically correct fanatics of the world. They are known to me and my followers simply as the Head-In-The-Ass-Brigade. For any of you "challenged" individuals who have actually made it this far in reading my blog, I offer you this definition of politics to ease your pain and confusion:

"Politics can be summed up as a simmering stew of masterful speeches composed of meaningless hot air spiced with brown-nosing, payoffs, and ego-fueled sexual commerce practiced by wrinkly, unattractive old farts that couldn't get laid on coupon day at the Chicken Ranch."

There are at this moment about 50,000 Brigade members who are having an epiphany which will temporarily stunt their brain activity. But don't despair, they'll be rebooted in time for the 2010 elections.

Honestly folks, politics wouldn't be any fun without the Head-In-The-Ass-Brigade. Luckily for us they are spread far and wide and their membership transcends all class levels and economic conditions. We can find them on every corner and we can always count on them to turn any political debate or election into a free-for-all of ignorance. They are the Lou Costello to our Bud Abbott, the Sarah Palin to our John McCain, the Penn Gillette to our Teller. That last one could go either way since one of them refuses to speak but still manages to say some of the dumbest things while the other one won't shut up and makes the dumbest things sound perfectly logical. The Brigades' ability to astound us with the most hairbrained, imbecilic takes on political issues drives us to work towards significant future goals for our planet; like genetic testing, designer babies and cloning. They are directly responsible for our continuous efforts to evolve as a species. If it weren't for them, we would all be right wing conservatives placing our fates firmly and blindly in the Lord above as we watch televangelists host the end of the world.

I firmly believe that sometime somewhere in the galaxy, God went on a bender and dropped the ball. Because when that happened, these assholes started to breed uncontrollably, thus creating the intense need for hippies, agnostics, and Liberals. I also firmly believe that when he gets back he is going to slap a hazardous warning on this world that says "Do Not Land - Stupidity in Progress. Watch for new worlds coming to a galaxy near you!"

As I sit here reading the want ads and dreaming of a better life outside of my current prison employment, I'm having an "Only in California" moment and its quite a disturbing flashback. Once upon a time when I was a young and impressionable civil servant, I was on the fast track to being promoted up the ladder and was taking test after test to leapfrog into a great paying job with power and a healthy retirement package. I wasn't the typical complacent employee as I often took tests two steps above my current paygrade because I was impatient with working my way to the top. I studied and practiced and managed to stay in the top 10 of those hiring lists along with employees far more experienced than I. But alas, my efforts were in vain. After chasing a particularly daunting promotion and acing a vigorous interview, I received a fateful call that opened my eyes to the ugly side of civil service. What happened? An ominous voice on the phone told me that I wouldn't be given the job because I was not a Male Hispanic. WTF? Isn't that discrimination? Denying someone a job because of their sex and their race? They said no. They called it Affirmative Action. I called it a major ass-fucking. I have a richly diverse background that includes many races so I couldn't believe this was happening to me. And as if things couldn't get any worse, while I was still reeling from this little slice of reality, the State sent me a letter asking me to define in specifics my exact race. I wrote them a letter back telling them it was none of their business what I was and that if I got promoted it would be because I worked hard and earned it. They wrote me a letter back labeling me a "White Woman". Because the State of California couldn't cope with something other than black or brown (I don't think "Two or more Races" even existed then) I was labeled as plain wrap and moved to a shelf along with 5,000 other mislabeled and clueless palefaces.

It appears that this has become a habit with the State of California. They can't find a spot for you or a mold they can squeeze you into so they lump you someplace where they won't have to deal with you. In fact, this practice has become the new mantra for the Republican Party. Every day I see commercials for the upcoming June gubernatorial elections and they always end the commercial with "Isn't it time for a Republican?" Now I know that politicians think we are all stupid and can't find our asses with a mirror and an embedded GPS chip but we've had a Republican Governor for the past seven years. Arnold is and always has been a Republican! And Steve Poizner and Meg Whitman are the GOP primary candidates so whats with the party confusion?

Why is it that every time a GOP candidate defies the ridiculous hard right line of the party, he gets lumped in with the Democrats? Maybe we should change our symbol from a donkey to a trashcan to hold all these cast-off Republicans. Personally, I think us Democrats should have a say in who gets to be called one of us and that Republican rejects should be put through a naturalization process just like immigrants. They should have to spend seven years learning liberalism, take a test and swear to abandon their dictatorial morality and fear mongering. But hey, maybe this relabeling is just their version of Affirmative Action!

There is no more highly charged and explosive subject than that of Politics. Most people hear the words "Politics" or "Politician" and instantaneously turn on the bullshit meter and turn off their ability to believe anything they hear. Considering how politics is practiced in America, this is a perfectly understandlable Pavlovian response to a wad of feces being hurled at your face at 47 mph as you leap over a dung heap while jogging.

For Americans today, Politics is the ultimate reality show. A marvelous conglomeration of Survivor meets Big Brother. We start with a huge pool of contestants that we lock up in inclusive, luxurious buildings. We give them huge salaries, limousines, personal asistants, personal security, lots of interns to fuck, and all the media attention they can grab. We then subject them to numerous challenges throughout their terms of service. We watch them form tribes and alliances and then switch sides to better their position. We cheer them on as they form racially and morally dominated packs and fight for supremacy. We listen to them continuously stab each other in the back while pretending to be the best of friend in front of the camera. And every four to six years or so (even sooner if the bastard really pisses us off) we vote some self agrandizing windbag off the island and banish him to the Today Show where he can whine and cry about how he was a victim of politics (isn't that a laugh) and then go on speaking tours, if he isn't facing an indictment or prison sentence by then. This is the shameful way we have come to view the governing of our country and, with all due respect to Alec Baldwin and the alien hoard at HULU.com, there is no sadder testament to that old saying that "Television Rots Your Brain!"

Welcome to the wonderful world of insanity. You are about to take a trip through those precious moments in life that stop you dead in your tracks, make you snap your head around and exclaim “WHAT THE F%&*?” We all have these moments since it is human nature to not only question the utterly nonsensical but to actually perpetrate it.
In order for you to fully understand how I view the world, and it does not involve psychopharmacology except in the medically necessary sense, you have to understand what it means to be Insanely Normal. The good news is that, if you have enough sense to ask that question, odds are you probably are Insanely Normal or at least have the potential to become one of the “IN” Crowd. It’s difficult to describe the Insanely Normal person because at first glance they look like everyone else. They come in all shapes and sizes, races and social scenes. They could be total hotties, geeks, jocks, or just plain fugly. There is no way to tell exactly who is Insanely Normal and who isn’t. At least until you hear them speak. They say the most unbelievable things and it is within these humble utterances we discover who is truly part of the IN Crowd. There are surprisingly many famous people who are part of the IN Crowd; Robin Williams, Lewis Black, George Carlin, Whoopie Goldberg, Penn and Teller, et al. They get paid millions for their musings and do it on a world wide stage while the OUT Crowd laughs cluelessly at the joke without realizing that they ARE the joke. They speak the truth with amazing clarity and those of us who are truly IN hear them loud and clear. So if you are part of the IN Crowd, this is the place for you to find a voice and others of your kind who spend their days wandering the Earth muttering “what the f%&*?.....

As I shuffle off in servitude to my cell where I will be caged and shackled like all beasts of burden to a desk, a phone and a tragically monitored computer, I ponder what monumental sins I must have committed in my lifetime to warrant such a sentence in purgatory. Considering that I haven't seen the inside of a church in about 3 years (and even then I was emitting a slightly smoky and ozone scented haze), there is a lot I must account for and maybe I have it coming. It would take days for me to repent the last three years and priests working in round the clock shifts to hear it all. God would most likely stop me after the first 36 hours and say "Okay, okay you're forgiven, just go willya. I have 6 billion other people to put up with!"

All humor and penance aside, I am beginning to wonder if our country as a whole isn't doing some kind of penance for it's sins. I spend each day watching the unethical and morally bankrupt prosper at the expense of those of lesser means and feel physically and spiritually stained for having to be a part of it for money. I never realized the depths of indifference and uncaring a human being could descend for nothing more than greed. I suppose I could do what I am sure many of you out there do; tell yourself that it's just a job and you're only doing what you're told by those in charge. Hey, we all have to survive by whatever means these days and many of us have families and others that depend on us, so we do what we must do. But somehow this seems too much like selling a piece of your soul and your humanity. How do you get it back?

Does anyone remember the glory days when pride in product was the root of every cliche spoken in this country? "Quality is Job One", "We Bring Good Things to Life", "Made in America", "Your in Good Hands". You couldn't walk 5 feet without hearing a call to pride on some airwave somewhere. I have in the past worked for some wonderful employers who take pride in their product and what their name represents. It felt terrific to be a part of their team because we started each day knowing that our contributions were valuable and ended them knowing our hard work appreciated. I will always treasure those employers who knew the value of self worth and never let you feel as if you were insignificant or just another business expense. But now I seem to be surrounded by cutthroat, ruthless companies grinding everyone and every resource into the dirt because the economy no longer has room for those who truly care. Their quality drops, their customer service goes out the window (or to India where there are 5,000 service reps all named "Bob" waiting to help you), and consumers and customers are left feeling cheated and abused. The only things I hear on airwaves these days is how some greedy executive, or financial corporation got away with raping the American people under the watchful eyes of our elected officials and that our taxes were going up.

Is there anyone out there left who works for a company and can still say it with pride? Chime in people and let the world know who the great ones that still endure are who to avoid like the plague!

One of the biggest fears about government run healthcare is that your health care would be put squarely in the hands of a government analyst and completely out of the doctors’ hands. Do you want your health being held hostage by a bureaucrat? Say it isn’t so! We will be forced to fight and scream and beg for our basic benefits. Life saving procedures and medicines would be withheld pending review while millions of us will die waiting for the sea of red tape to part and approve our healthcare. Non medical personnel will be making decisions about what treatments we can or can’t have without any medical knowledge or training whatsoever. And we won’t be able to sue them for withholding treatment and causing all kinds of death and destruction because you can’t sue the government! My God it’s the end of everything. The apocalypse is here!

But…..I have a question to propose. And don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming. Your average bureaucrat at the administrative analyst level, has a college degree and a Federal job. He sits at a desk and has no medical training whatsoever. He gets 3 weeks vacation a year, a solid comfortable salary, union representation, every paid holiday on the planet plus 2 personal days to use whenever he wants. His benefits are the best there is and don’t cost him anything. He has a credit union that won’t go under. His retirement is matched and he’s completely vested within 5 years. And it would take an act of terrorism to get him fired. I don’t know about you, but this sounds like one happy son of a bitch to me! Your average insurance claims processor has a job that depends on his denial of your benefits. He gets paid an average salary that only increases with commissions for every claim he denies. He works long hours and has to listen to people whine and cry and beg for coverage because they are sick and dying. Unless he is one merciless, uncaring dickhead, he takes two Xanax with his morning coffee just to stomach his job and three shots of bourbon to get to sleep at night. He has the better health benefits than you do through the company. He gets a weeks vacation that increases every year he is there but this hardly happens because people don’t last very long in his job without psychological treatment, and this isn’t part of his coverage. His job is secure only as long as he saves the insurance company money by denying you coverage. But…and here’s the really great part about private insurance….he has bosses that are actual medical doctors with years of experience. These guys are the icons of modern medicine. They are so qualified it’s astounding. Now these guys are actually worth the billions in profits a year that insurance companies make by letting people die. So it may take a few years and about seven lawyers to get them to answer your letters begging for the healthcare you paid for, SO WHAT! If you lasted that long then they were right anyway and you didn’t need the treatment. Problem solved. These are the guys we WANT making our healthcare decisions. It doesn’t matter if they say ‘No’ to a life-saving operation. They’re doing their part to keep my premiums down and my health insurance provider in the black! Wow! They’re real doctors with diplomas and everything.

Now we also have to realize that there are unscrupulous doctors out there that were car thieves before they went to medical school. They see an illness as an opportunity to hack off body parts. They practice medicine like a hospital is their own private chop shop. We see warnings in the news all the time about the propensity for doctors to rip out your organs rather than treat the illness affecting them. This is especially true with women since a hysterectomy or a mastectomy is a hell of a lot more fun for the surgeon than chemo. He gets to root around in your innards while listening to 80’s hair bands and he doesn’t have to listen to you whine about your vomiting, your hair loss, or that the pills are making you fat for the next 5 years. We need some form of oversight to make sure that these hacks aren’t taking advantage of their patients. In the past we’ve used things like common sense to serve this purpose but it failed miserably. Then we invented something called second and third opinions but your insurance company will always go with the cheapest option so that didn’t work out so well either.

So here we have a choice as to whom we really want making our healthcare decisions. We can have the happy, well paid oblivious bureaucrat who goes to work with a smile on his face and goes home felling that he actually helped people each day. Or we can have the drugged out alcoholic, amoral, asshole who goes to work each day knowing that his job and bonuses depend on your dying before you can cost the company more money than you’re worth. My mother taught me when I was a child that life is too short to spend time with assholes. So with all due respect to the alarmist right wing, I think I should follow mom’s advice.

Besides, when did the Federal Government ever provide you with a real doctor to help you? I’ve been in public hospitals and urgent care centers and I’ve seen what they have masquerading as caregivers. There are no plush offices with diplomas on the wall. There are no doctors and nurses there. The Feds go down to skid row and hand out white uniforms and lab coats to bums and homeless people. They tell them to take a shower, use some deodorant and shave. They tell them to put on the uniform and show up at the big concrete building down the street. When you arrive we’ll give you knives and needles and drugs and we’ll let you torture the working class for free! Those aren’t real doctors and nurses. It’s a Communist Government plot to pull the wool over your eyes! They want you to get used to being cared for by bureaucrats and homeless people so that when Universal Healthcare becomes a reality, you won’t know the difference!


You know, back in the good old days, the mob invented insurance. They would send a bunch of guys with baseball bats and clubs to your place of business and fuck with you. They would demand that you pay them protection money so that nobody else would fuck with you or else they would fuck with you some more. The fact that nobody was fucking with you to being with didn’t matter. So you paid through the nose and nobody fucked with you because you had insurance. And it worked! This was the successful business model as it was originally conceived by those bastions of business acumen; the Mafia. But something has been lost along the way. Insurance companies today do business by new methods. They follow the psychological principle of denial. See most of us live in a state of denial on a daily basis so they’ve simply taken that premise and made a completely new business model out of it. We pay them to perpetuate our state of denial. We pay them for healthcare and they deny us. We argue with them and they deny us. We sue them and they deny us due process. Instead they give us this nasty little thing called impartial arbitration where both sides sit down outside of a courtroom and argue over why we are being denied the healthcare that we paid for. But since the arbitrator is hired by the insurance company, how impartial can he be? We deny that universal healthcare will do anything but destroy our American way of life. But we also deny that we’re being driven to bankruptcy and death by private insurance companies through stress and denial of decent medical care. Maybe we should all go back to doing business the way the mob did it long ago. We pay you and nobody fucks with us. It’s either that or Universal Healthcare Comrade!

I am totally clueless on this one and, like most of you, have no idea whatsoever the future will bring on this one. I have been told that that Universal Healthcare is a socialist policy and would be the gateway to allowing the total and complete takeover of every individual right by the Government. No more independence. No more Democracy. No more choice. We would all become Commies! Well, I checked around and … Holy God they were right! If we adopted socialized medicine we would end up the same way as all the other Commie strongholds surrounding us. Countries like Great Britain and France and Canada! What was our government thinking when they proposed this? Those countries are full of enslaved citizens with no civil rights whatsoever! They don’t have a cool Democracy like we do, they have Evil Republics. They elect Presidents and then force them to share power with a Prime Minister. This is just sick. They all have Constitutions of course but theirs couldn’t possibly be as cool as ours is. After all, we have the Senate and the House of Representatives. They have some dastardly organization made up of elected officials called a “Parliament”. This insidious group of politicians gathers regularly and enacts laws that they decide are in the best interests of their countrymen. How Communist is that!

Everyone is also scared that we will all have to pay higher tax percentages to provide healthcare for the poor or extremely unhealthy. We don’t have to do that with private insurance. Well, under the current system, you don’t have to worry about paying for the poor or the illegals because they can’t afford health insurance. But your rates keep going up every year because the people who can afford your insurance, especially if they can’t be kicked to the curb with pre-existing conditions because they are covered under their employers plan, go out and do stupid things like bungee jump or ski or jump out of airplanes. They smoke or drink or do drugs because they have jobs and they can afford to. They take vacations to third world countries and drink the water. They have cosmetic procedures and tell the insurance companies that they needed the boob job because their tits were giving them scoliosis. They get older and sicker and need more healthcare. So while you won’t have to shoulder the burden for the poor or the indigent, you do have shoulder the burden for the working middle class and the rich. And we know what a needy pathetic bunch of whiners they are. Every time they get a fever, a cold or the flu they go running to the doctor. If their kid gets a childhood disease, instead of just shoving a thermometer up the kid’s ass and a Tylenol down his throat, they go running to the hospital. If they have cancer, they go running all over the place trying every quack holistic program or procedure and every experimental drug on the planet on the insurance company’s dime trying to save their sorry asses instead of going home and dying with dignity in front of the t.v. with a cookie and a glass of milk. If they would just keep their sick asses at home like the poor people do instead of wasting the doctors’ valuable time with non life-threatening conditions, our premiums would be cheaper. These people are the Communists within; the domestic terrorists that our military swears to defend us from. Incidentally, we do pay higher taxes to care for the poor and the infirm. They just call it something else so we won’t stage a coup. HA! GOTCHA!

With all the hullaballoo flying over the Stimulus Package and how bad for the economy it is, I stumbled across an entire world of bloggers who fear something even greater than Obama’s bailing out the economy: Universal Healthcare! We can thank Michael Moore for stirring up this hornets nest by releasing his documentary “Sicko” on pay per view. As if we didn’t have enough to complain about already. But the blogosphere is rife with doomsayers who warn us all that Universal Healthcare will mean the rise of Communism, the end of Democracy, and life in America as we know it. With the conviction of Nostradamus, they prophesize that, should Universal Healthcare come to pass, by the end of the decade we’ll all be working the communal wheat fields, in government factories or leaky nuclear power plants, and eating borscht each night while watching government approved television propaganda starring muscular Russian female athletes on steroids. The fact that they are on steroids would make them legally eligible to become our nation’s first professional female National League baseball players. News media would be censored, comedians would be shot. Rush Limbaugh would be appointed Chief of Staff, Ann Coulter would be Secretary of State, and Tipper Gore would be appointed head of the FCC. If that didn’t put the fear of God into you, nothing would.

As I sit at my desk at work and stare at my computer screen at work, I struggle to find the right words to describe my daily presence in this internment camp for the working middle class. I can’t find them anywhere. When words fail us human beings, we tend to describe intense situations or experiences in our lives that leave us dumbstruck by comparing them to things that elicit the same reactions in us but from a different medium. For instance, the soft purr of a kitten can invoke maternal instincts and bonding in women. A rich, fabulous piece of chocolate or sumptuous treat is sometimes described as being orgasmic or sexual in how it slides across your tongue. Silk sheets can make you feel as if caressed by a lover. In fact being in love is often described as being on a never ending roller coaster of alternating pain and pleasure. For four months I have sought and searched through every experience I have ever had in my life to find the one that would adequately describe the feelings this place evokes in me. It was with great surprise that I finally realized, I had never experienced anything even remotely resembling my employment here. I would most certainly have to look elsewhere for inspiration so I turned to my most beloved hobby to guide me. I read books. Given my predilection for horror fantasy novels, you can surmise the sort of imagery I was subjecting myself to. But lo and behold, my taste in books provided me with the perfect means to express my appreciation for my current job.

Picture yourself hanging naked from a tree in the Amazon jungle. You are dangling from a vine that has little red flowers along its length that chatter and mimic human voices. It is crawling with stinging red ants and you are suspended over a murky brown bog bubbling with man eating piranhas. They jump greedily from the water and chew away bits of your flesh with every leap while the little flowers mimic your cries of pain and laugh at you. At the top of this vine sits a troll in a business suit with a grin like a shark wearing Jimmy Choos and an outdated designer outfit. Each time the fish eat away at you to the point where they can no longer reach you, you feel a tremendous sense of relief as the pain momentarily subsides. But then the troll turns a crank and you drop down another few inches. The fish begin to feast on you yet again and the troll chuckles and gurgles while you writhe in agony and flowers continue to mock your every scream. Once you have this image firmly visualized and can actually feel the despair and hopelessness that such an embodiment of evil can produce, you will understand exactly what it is like to walk through the front door of my office and hear that ominous click as the door locks behind you......

You may think I am being a bit melodramatic but the cocktail of high blood pressure pills and anti-depressants that my doctor has insisted I take before I have a stroke would indicate otherwise.

On the flip side, Insanely Normal people are those who find a way to exist in the world without warping their sense of identity. They show restraint when necessary but they do not sacrifice honesty for required deception. They are true to themselves to the extent that, when they do or say something that totally boggles the mind in its political incorrectness, it is nevertheless indisputable in its truth. They are who they are and don't fear asking the obvious question or pointing out the simple absurdities of a situation or phrase simply because it isn't proper to do so. They scoff at the allegedly well bred and sneer with disdain at the professionally pressed. The best of them become stand up comics. The rest just throw great parties. They are the socially subversive who spend their lives realizing that humanity is a cosmic joke and that the Earth is the Universe's Comedy Central.

This page is my homage to my IN Crowd who far too often go ignored and when they are not being ignored they are being shunned as the destructors of the delusion of normalcy that human beings struggle so viciously to maintain. God bless you all and welcome to my dementia.

What does it mean to be IN? Well, the simplest way to examine what the Insanely Normal person is all about is to examine his or her polar opposite; the Normally Insane person. You exist in a state of Normal Insanity if you spend your life trying to convince the world that you are something you’re not. Don't laugh just yet. We all do it to some degree but for most of us it is a situational necessity. We are all expected to behave and speak a certain way when we are in different situations or social groups.

For instance, when you go to church services or sponsored religious events, you are expected to be on your best behavior. So you clean up your language and try to look respectable. Women leave the padded bra and thongs at home. They ditch the come-fuck-me-pumps for sensible one inch heels or flats and use a small brush instead of a spatula to apply their makeup. Guys set aside the construction crack jeans complete with beer stained wife beater tees (that have been 3 sizes too small since their first parole hearing). They put on their best un-faded denims or clean Dickies that they only break out for funerals and court appearances and on occasion they actually shave. You are in the house of the Lord so straighten up your act lest you incur the wrath of clergymen, your fellow parishioners with their impressionable children and gossiping wives, or at worst (or best depending on your sexual proclivities) a nun with a yard stick and a spanking fetish. You suspend your rational disbelief and say amen to every metaphor. You absorb enough dogma to scare you into behaving yourself, at least for the next 2 hours. Then it’s back to the real world where football reigns supreme and damnation is all but assured.

When you enter therapy, whether voluntary or otherwise, you put on an act because ........ let’s face it ........... no one goes to group therapy intending to let the other mental defectives know just how far off the rails you’ve jumped. Maintaining an air of controlled eccentricity allows you to convince yourself that you’re not anywhere near as crazy as the other guys! Therefore you must be getting better hence you don’t really belong in group therapy and it’s all a cosmic injustice. Superiority among the Insane is kind of like Honor among Thieves. It works great in theory but in practice …

When you go to work you have to put on a happy face that broadcasts "I am a happy well-paid worker who loves my job and believes that my purile and mudane duties will ultimately improve mankind." You have to do this despite the fact that you hate your job, your co-workers are back stabbing gold bricks, your boss is a greedy, megalomaniacal, two faced letch, your salary is barely enough to cover your weekly bar tab, and your work is repetitive and less life altering than a box of Ex-Lax. Pity the workers that have to add "Political Correctness" to their normal insanity. They have to somehow suppress every bias, prejudice, or unkind secular thought (innocently conceived or otherwise) and present a persona that has all the warmth and brevity of a plastic hairbrush. Honestly…..vibrators have more personality and are more fun to hang out with from 8-5!

We all have to adopt these fake personalities for the majority of our waking hours without somehow suffering a Schizoid Dissociative Event. I'd say only about 30% of us are successful and exist in a state of Normal Insanity, although about 80% of that 30% are sociopaths (hey, everyone thought Jeffrey Dahmer was normal). The rest of us buy hand guns and wait for the intellectual apocalypse that is surely coming in 2012. We read every day about seemingly sane people going completely mental and popping the sanity cork. The government agency that gave birth to that bastion of mental health, the Unites States Postal Service, held the Guinness title for Schizoid Events for decades but the economy and the internet forced the Postal Service to lay off most of them and now they work in customer service for Microsoft. The Santa Claus killer, Bruce Pardo was one such ray of sunshine. Nobody could believe that he was completely crazy. They all kept saying "but he went to church and prayed every week." What makes people believe that going to church makes a person sane or normal? One reason is that people see the phony face you are forced to adopt to be there. The truth is that going to church doesn't change the fact that you dissect people’s pets for fun, stalk 8 year olds because you couldn’t get laid if someone glued a thousand dollar bill to your forehead and hung the keys for a Porsche around your neck, or that you honestly believe that with the right sauce and seasoning, people really do taste like chicken! It only threatens you with eternal damnation if you actually show people these sides of your personality. It’s no wonder that with all the roles we are forced to play, 70% of the population is utterly and completely insane.