On Growing Up…

One of the current US President’s proposals is that insurance companies be mandated to carry the children of their assured to the age of 26. That’s right, if mommie and daddie have health insurance through their employer, well, that insurance company must carry the kiddies all the way until they’re 26. Hmmmm…. 26.

Let’s see, you can vote at 18. You can drink alcoholic beverages at 21. But, this president would have mommie and daddie’s insurance company carry your sorry self on the policy until you’re 26. Wow, now that’s a stab at maturity, at responsibility, at being your own person.

I look back at my own father who at 26 already had three children, a mortgage, and a business to run, all of which he paid for without his daddie or mommie’s help. He wasn’t alone either. A whole generation figured out how to support themselves, pay the bills, and yes, get healthcare, too.

Maybe my parents were just lucky. Or maybe they didn’t have the sundry necessities that many younger people today simply must have. For example: They have to have their own television in their own rooms since that electronic box replaces the mother’s breast from the earliest of days. They have to have a computer, preferably two: a laptop to tote about and look smart, and a desktop for home. By the way an internet connection also has to be had, high speed by the way. Then there’s the cellphone. Must stay in touch with pals, mommie and daddie, and not ingore the desperate plea: WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENS. LIKE, OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I DO? The cell phone plan has to be unlimited minutes and text messages, too. Very important they don’t get out of touch. Then there’s the iPod or other music player and all those songs that just have to be heard constantly when they’re not texting, chatting, or mucking about otherwise. A car or at a minimum some form of transportation complete with fuel, insurance, and maintenance paid for by mommie and daddie. Then there’s the fashions, clothes being an actual necessity of human life, but this generation needs the latest and greatest.

That’s the short list. And if you have a pencil and paper handy, maybe a calculator to help out, add up the cost. It’ll buy one Cadillac insurance plan that’s for sure. But the little kiddies won’t be cool. They won’t be “in.” They’ll be out. And out is where they belong. Out of the house, out in the world, out WORKING to support themselves, instead of whining for something else for free.

GROW UP. At 26 if you can’t or won’t buy your own health insurance, you’re a LOSER. And someone from CHINA or INDIA will be your master. Enjoy the party before the lights go out.

If you have the guts, read my novel Universal Coverage. It’ll show you a possible reality that’s headed our way at the speed of unrestrained deficit spending.

Published in: on February 25, 2010 at 11:45 am  Comments (1)  
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Happy Spot, Aruba

The Happy Spot opened only a few months ago, in November 2009. In my rambling about the island, I rolled past it, doubled back, and stopped in for an ice-cream. Here’s a photo of the joint.

The Happy Spot is located on the road that leads off the highway from where the old Adventure Golf used to be. Just follow that inland and opposite the Cheng grocery, you’ll this little place on the other side of the road. (For some unkown reason, Aruba refuses to name many of its roads and streets, which makes giving directions difficult, but exploring can be fun. They also do not number buildings sequentially. Perhaps this is what prevents an enemy invasion?)

Nonetheless, much joy was had in the form of a chocolate ice-cream. If you don’t believe me, here’s a photo to prove it.

Notice the pen in pocket, always prepared to jot down some story material. I chatted with the owner for a few minutes. Nice guy. I hope he does well. He explained to me that they also make all sorts of smoothies here. That’s not my thing but by the number of people ordering them, I would say they must be good.

Bon dia.

Published in: on February 22, 2010 at 11:00 am  Comments (1)  
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Spanish Castles

Any visit to Spain has to include a castle or two. There are plenty to choose from. In fact, the challenge is which ones to visit given the limited amount of time during a particular tour. I found a website that has plenty of photos. Here’s the link:


The homepage has a map that you can click on. You are then directed to that particular region’s castles. So many photos that you can spend hours sorting through them. One thing that always amazes me about these castles is simply how many stones had to be cut and stacked. Millions of tons! Incredible feats when you think about the lack of machinery. I’m looking forward to posting my own photos soon of a couple of these castles. You’ll find them right here on The Bent Page.

Published in: on February 19, 2010 at 9:51 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Mowing Hugo’s Lawn

The Daily Gut is Greg Gutfeld’s blog. I highly recommend it. The man knows what he’s talking about and writes with wit and flair. His latest post struck a chord with me, in particular because he mentions how socialism is never portrayed for what it is in the popular media culture. He hit the nail on the head with a big hammer and here’s the link to that post:


At the risk of shameless self-promotion, let me say to Greg and the world, that my novel, Universal Coverage, portrays socialized medicine for what it may become here in the United States. So there is at least one canary singing the coal mine of culture. It is an interesting analysis to ask why more media elites don’t establish residency in the socialist worker paradises of Venezuela, North Korea, or even France. Truly these places embody the values of socialism and that’s what the elites of the United States advocate. I mean, if there’s a party going on and they’re your type of crowd, why not join in? Well, because then you’d have to give up the palace in Malibu, the penthouse on Madison, and the drivers, jets, clothes, tortured food, and baubles that make your elite life the stuff of proletariat ire.

Wait a minute! Was that a contradiction in what you want for yourself versus the rest of us? Uh, oh. Now what?

Don’t worry, fly private back to your hypocritical lair where you can sip that spectacular Bordeaux, discuss your newest Hermes scarf, and dream of another propaganda piece to convince the masses that you’re really looking out for them.