A guest essay submitted by Jack Riepe to stimulate sensible and thorough debate on health care reforms proposed for the United States. Please comment at length and sharpen your pencils to add your thoughts. All points of view are welcome, and will be printed by me unedited and uncensored, as will all comments in reply. My only time limit on this experiment is the day some sort of reform is finally passed, be it ever so inadequate, and signed into law by the President.
I am Conchscooter, aka Michael Beattie, 743 Indies Road, Ramrod Key, Florida 33042. Send essays to me at mikigboat@hotmail.com and post as many comments as you like below the essays. Unless you are the pornographic asian spammer, in which case send your pictures directly to Jack riepe at Twisted Roads (http://jackriepe.blogspot.com/)
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My Perspective: The Healthcare Debate-- Let's Start Over, the Right Way...
I want President Obama to put the brakes on the current healthcare public relations disaster and come up with three substantive, but different programs, that address all public concerns, to serve as the basis of a nation referendum on healthcare.
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Proposed legislation should come from the Democrats, the Republicans, and the insurance industry, (who should be advised that they can take the lead in offering an honest reform program, or be reformed by popular consensus and legislative action).
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The process should also be open to proposed programs set forth by labor unions or other social groups, like the Salvation Army. There has to be more than one answer to this problem. The proposed bills should be limited to 25 pages, plus an executive summary. A matrix for each plan (the size of a tabloid newspaper page) would also be prepared.
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Then I want President Obama to conduct a national referendum, that will be based on a factual analysis and presentation of the pros and cons of each program, conducted by an independent auditor and the US Government Accounting Office (GAO). Prior to the referendum, there will be be three one-hour television specials, with experts explaining how each plan would work. On three consecutive days (or as many days as it would take to present each program to the general public via various media outlets), newspapers across the country would run full-page ads, detailing each program using the executive summary and the appropriate matrix. The same data would be made available online. Proposed changes to these bills would be collected via e-mail and hard copy and tabulated prior to a final draft of each. (These could run into the millions.)
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It is to be hoped that each submitted program would include the input:
• Of respected medical authorities, who would be named in each bill.
• Of an accounting firm who would certify that all data, percentages,and cited costs were correct. (This means that all three proposalswould have to use the same base numbers regarding the nation's uninsured... And that means making an effort to accurately to define"uninsured" and count them.)
• Labor unions, professional associations, social networks, clubs, andlocal political groups would be encouraged to support or endorse one program, but not to criticize the other two. For example, rather than declaring one plan to be the national socialization of America, or the Nazification of the US lifestyle, it would be in the best interests of groups supporting another plan to point out the its benefits (i.e. keeping the US Congress out of the insurance business, while promoting a single payer concept).
• The bill would then be voted on in a special national referendum. Legislation may be necessary to accommodate such a vote. If so, Congress can make that happen.
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Now I realize this rational approach to resolving this problem will take at least six months to a year of dedicated legislation drafting, hearings and public coordination; and take all the fun out of name-calling and screaming, but it has some real benefits.
1) It will get the US public actively involved in solving a national problem -- in a constructive manner. (For presentation on television, I suggest canceling "Dancing With The Bullshit Stars," or "American Idol." unless the idols are school teachers, firemen, or single moms who hold two jobs and still find a way to pay for their kid's music lessons.)
2) No one will able to say a better alternative wasn't discussed or made available.
3) Every qualified social, political or professional entity (in addition to every US citizen) will have an opportunity to contribute to the finished legislation.
4) The final decision will be left to the voting public.
5) Politicians will be forced to work together, and adhere to public outcry, or face the consequences on election day.
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Republicans (and I am a Republican) will be forced to pull their heads out of their asses, and regard the common man and woman, with an income of $45,000 or less as their actual constituency. They are going to have to become known as "progressive Republicans" or "SRRs, Socially Responsible Republicans," committed to the man (and woman) on the street first. It may be easier to train tigers to ignore bloody gazelles.
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Democrats (and I supported a lot of these assholes) are going to have to acknowledge that the Continental United States is more than Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Los Angeles and San Francisco. There are millions of people who live in between these places who do not trust government for good reason. Alienating these people further is not good politics. Acting like they don't count is the first step in declaring a single term Presidency.
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If the President were to adopt the policy I have outlined above, it will do the following:
a) Give him more time to get this right.
b) Enable him to act upon new data regarding the acceptance of a program of this nature by the American public. Let's face it, the self-congratulatory Democrats were under the impression there would be no or limited opposition to this "40 acres and a mule" legislation. It blew up in their smarter-than-thou faces. (And their first reaction was to call the opposition organized stupidity bereft of social awareness, and nothing more than a neanderthal diversion tactic -- in an effort to discount resistance to a poorly communicated, over-complex document that is being rushed through Congress.
c) Tell the Democratic party not to mix issues with this program, and to assure (not just tell) the voters, "We're going to fix it." Of course, this means Obama will have to become the real leader of the Democratic Party. Democratic leaders have been waiting for their turn to screw the American public for so long that it may be easier to train tigers to ignore bleeding gazelles.
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So Conch, this would be my approach. I didn't mean to clutter up a great blog with this, but I rather got the impression you thought that I didn't think healthcare was important, or that I wasn't thinking about this, or that I was an idiot. It's just that I have no patience with government bullshit and no confidence in their bullshit promises. Among the things that President Obama promised were two elements of real change... They wouldn't cost any real money... They wouldn't raise taxes... They wouldn't even make a real splash at first, considering the average American is as dumb as dog shit and incapable of reading anything longer than a Twitter message. And yet, Obama couldn't drop these promises fast enough.
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The first was the promise that all legislation would be presented to the general public in plain language, 5 days before a vote would be taken. A nicer touch by a powerful leader eager to promote change would also have been to eliminate the rider system of passing legislation in the dark. But it was stupid of me to get my hopes up even for the initial offering. Can you imagine the value of the above legislative action in the promotion of a well-written bill, the acceptance of which by the American pubic was crucial to a major enhancement of the US lifestyle? You could use the healthcare bill as an example. But Co-President Pelosi and company is not really interested in smartening up the US voter.
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The second promise made by Obama was to eliminate all lobbyists and special interest representatives from his administration; and to require that all dialogues between elected officials and lobbyists be recorded and reported. This took my breath away. Only leaders like Attila, Pope Gregory, Napoleon, Washington, and Ghengis Khan make promises like that. As you can imagine, Co-President Pelosi and banking industry sexual aid Chris Dodd -- in addition to the rest of the occupants in the "Little Whorehouse on the D.C. Prairie" -- got real quiet on that one.
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It was for these two campaign promises, and because the Republican Party performed so poorly over eight years (treating rank and file Republicans, let alone the American public like they were idiots and cannon fodder), that I supported President Obama. He has performed like a true ward-heeler since getting into office.
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I routinely write to my elected officials, and my name is on hundreds of press releases that urge the feds to act responsibly (albeit on transportation issues), and with forethought, as opposed to highlyemotional responses that get headlines, but no results.
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So these are the kind of blog comments I write when I am not thinking about motorcycles, or women, or rum, or nude beaches in Key West.
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Fondest regards, Jack Riepe Twisted Roads
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"I have a good mind to join a club and beat you to death with it."--- Groucho Marx
Last year I lamented the passing of a summer in which the wind seemed to blow every single day and the flat waters one comes to expect between June and October never materialized. Every day was a ruffled day on the Straits of Florida. Well, this year I got my wish and every day is a furnace, off the water and on:
I stopped at Bahia Honda State Park and used my annual pass to get inside and buy a cold soda at the concession stand, which had closed fifteen minutes before my arrival. There wasn't a Coke machine anywhere to be found and I had change in my wallet for a ...change. I took some pictures to justify the stop and pulled my open face helmet back on. For riders over 21 who enjoy the benefits of having a health insurance plan (seriously!) Florida is a helmet-optional state, but on a day as hot as Friday putting my lid on brought relief from the heat. 
Some people think a white helmet is going to radiate more heat away from the rider's head than a black helmet. However if that were the case the helmet would have to have no insulated lining at all. I like black clothing as it shows the dirt less, which is a consideration for a pig-pen like me. I attract dirt, grease, oil and debris like a magnet attracts iron filings and I marvel at people who have the nerve to buy white clothing of any kind.
My plan, such as it was, had started out as a visit to Veteran's Park, a sliver of beach at the southern end of the Seven Mile Bridge. So after I left Bahia Honda, panting for something cold to drink, I stopped at the inconvenience store at the RV park on Ohio Key (August 9th, 2008). 
The lady in the store seemed grumpy and took my $1.44 with nothing approaching a cheerful demeanor, so I hope whatever was bothering her, gets better. I use Anti Monkey Butt powder for those annoying tropical irritations and I considered for a second mentioning it to her. A quick glance at her scowl and I took my well ripened banana and ice cold can of Coke Zero and fled back into the heat. She had the television on behind the counter and I am proud to be able to tell you she was ignoring a program called Everybody (except Conchscooter) Loves Raymond. I am totally hip to the culture, dude. Which comes from long hours standing in line with gossip magazines in the grocery store. 
Being a resourceful sort of elitist I knew how to implement Plan B. I crossed the Overseas Highway and rode down to the launch ramp parking lot on the north side of the main road. This strip of asphalt is shadeless and was burning hot so I rode the Bonneville illegally, past the barrier onto the grass and parked in the shade of what appeared to be some sort of buttonwood tree, though it probably wasn't. I drank my Coke and ate my banana, feeling all that potassium flooding my corn syrup filled veins, and started to feel right with a very overheated world. I had forgotten to bring reading material for once in my life so my camera was my friend and my entertainment.
Fishing was over for the day for this crew and I watched as they retrieved their boat at the ramp. My phone rang and my wife announced she was done for the day, her classroom was organized for the little tykes' return on Monday. She was stopping at Square Grouper on Cudjoe Key to pick up dinner.
I struggled to get vertical and realized my legs had sweat their way through my riding pants and large ovals of damp were riding above the knees. My wristwatch was bathed in moisture that ran rather disconcertingly down my arm, and my shirt collar was plastered to my neck. It was time to get home. Had I brought my mesh jacket I would not have worn it as any extra clothing would have given me heat stroke. My lightweight leather gloves felt like damp neoprene mush on my hands. It was way too hot at six o'clock in the evening.
Fish was on the menu for me too. We had Crab Rangoon made as only Square Grouper knows how to fry this excessively familiar, and slightly bizarre dish, followed by sliced deep fried eggplant (aubergine) rounds. Eggplant is my wife's favorite plant and these crisply coated vegetable slices came with discs of goat cheese squished between them, combining her favorite flavors. The main dish was a fish stew also done Square Grouper style so it was a creamy chowder tomato bisque type of thing with bits of octopus and calamari and fish chunks floating beneath the surface . Leftovers went into the fridge to chill.
Rather to my surprise we sank an entire bottle of Vincent Arroyo Melange between us and before I knew it my wife had slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep on the couch. All I had left to do was download the pictures and reflect on how good a day can be with almost no conscious effort.
The window unit was rattling like it was in its death throes, working to keep the heat and humidity of August at bay, and inside the lights were burning brightly in late afternoon sunlight which was shut out thanks to all the bushes and stuff covering the little cottage. Outside the sky was burned a dark shade of blue, where a snowbird had closed up the house forgetting to put away the bath tub for the summer:
And some other paraphernalia a lot of people would probably not leave lying around outside for all to see. A mattress? A hot tub cover? An implement of bondage? Probably not but whatever it is I doubt it will be much use for anything come winter, after six months moldering outdoors:
In a world comprised of wide, post industrial streets it may come as a surprise but Knowles Lane is a two-way alley though it's not easy to picture a Chevy Suburban and a Hummer passing side-by-side here. Two Vespas might have difficulty if their riders weren't confident.
This lone cyclist managed to pass me with feet to spare, but I'm almost certain he was quite sober:
A person's home is their castle especially if they have a decent fence and imposing gate between themselves and the harsh, unforgiving world outside:
I was greatly tempted to just open the gate and let him in, but somehow I felt that might be intrusive no matter how imperious was the cat on the mat:
Knowles Lane is only one block long, and come out on United Street next to this old style Conch house with bars on the windows and a cement brick wall in classic Key West style:
You probably could pass Knowles Lane a million times speeding by on United Street sparing hardly a glance at what looks like just another driveway:
And even on the United Street end the city stencilers have been busy where before the lane enjoyed perfect anonymity:
Highway 27 takes a turn to the East around the southern shores of Lake Okeechobee, which is the largest body of fresh water in the continental United states second only to lake Superior, and is thoroughly uninteresting despite that. I have sailed across the lake from Clewiston to eastern lock and it has nothing to show all the way across. However on the southern shore nestles the city made possible by Big Sugar, the US Sugar Corporation, formerly known as Southern Sugar. Eleven billion of your tax dollars go to the sugar industry so every time you eat a candy bar you are swallowing five cents of your own tax dollars. Weird huh? Big Sugar has supposedly made a deal with the state to sell their lands and turn them back to wilderness to clean up the flow of water into the Everglades and restore the waters to the south of the state. Meanwhile Clewiston remains an agricultural town with a large population of Latin fieldworkers and a monument to the good old days of Big Sugar, the corporation's hotel, called the Clewiston Inn: 
It sits alongside Highway 27 where the road enters the town from the west, and from the front, despite the garish BBQ sign, it looks the part of the fine southern mansion. The rear of the hotel has a second, less well known entrance and being as how I am a Floridian my idea of a good parking spot is somewhere in the shade. So I parked the Maxima under the Royal Palms and in we went through the unobtrusive back door.
The interior of the hotel is everything you would imagine a 1938 building should be, all wood paneling and chandeliers:
This being the 21st century the idiot box had to be turned on in a corner, sucking every ounce of intelligent thought out of the room, so we went on to the lunch we had been looking forward to since -ahem!- breakfast in Lake Wales.
Aside from the propaganda machine the room looks much as it always has done:
As hard to imagine as it may be, the Clewiston Inn was a fashionable place to gather, play tennis and wile away a long cold winter, like these fashionable folk, captured by Mr Kodak's invention in the prime of their young lives:
The corridors of the hotel are lined with pictures from the Inn's past and I wanted to photograph them all...instead I took a picture of the enormous menu in an effort to remember what was offered:
The dining room itself was quite delightful in the same vein as the rest of the hotel, just as we remembered it from previous visits. The room absorbed the conversations from the neighboring tables and as we waited for our food I found myself pondering a surprising thought. Considering the tables next to us were occupied by a trio of Latino businessmen, a group of African-Americans, my wife who is a Jew and me who is an immigrant, I figured none of us would have been allowed to eat in the Colonial Dining room when it was re-built in 1938. Thanks to the Federal Government's enforcement of President Johnson's Great Society legislation we were all there enjoying our meals without a second thought. And very good the food was too.
And for a technophobe like me there is the advantage that you can talk to your passenger without the use of electrons. which is useful when home is six hours away across more flatlands and rather uninteresting urban messes like the rest of Clewiston:
And these rural clapboard houses that put me in mind of small homes on the prairie:
I have no idea what this was named after:
And back, on the road again...Highway 27 toward Homestead:
Toward the islands we call home, the only place worth living in Florida.