Lance Corporal Joshua Bernard was killed in Afghanistan the other day. So what? So this. An Associated Press photographer caught his death on film. And the AP sent out the pictures for publication.

Secretary of Defense Gates was shocked, shocked! that such pictures would be published. “Because they are upsetting to the the soldier’s family.” Well, la dee dah. In fact, double la dee dah.

Why is Gates so upset? We are all aware that many young Americans have been killed and otherwise maimed in Afghanistan. What nobody would be able to tell you, including a lot of people with degrees in foreign policy and military policy, is exactly WHY they are dying and being maimed over there. But that’s another story for another day.

Here’s why Gates is upset. As long as the dying are nameless, and more importantly, faceless young men and women, nobody gives them a second thought. Admit it. We have become callous about death. We have become used to the fact that our government sends young people to their deaths on poorly explained and even unexplained missions. They are strangers to us, so our concern is somewhat limited. We only really care if we know them or their families. Or if they’re from the same town. It’s become kind of like the celebrity who has dedicated his life to curing some hideous disease he  never used to care about until the minute his sister came down with it. As long as we don’t see the pictures of these unknown soldiers, as long as we don’t identify with them and their families, the government can pretty much do whatever it wants.

But publish a picture of a a cherubic young cadet in full dress uniform for everyone to see, alongside pictures of that same young man disemboweled and short one limb as he bleeds to death in the middle of Gahddamistan, and you have something we here on Earth call REALITY – the reality that our government is killing our young people, and probably a lot of the enemy’s (who are they again?) young people and old people and in between people, and they haven’t really told us why. In fact, they will never tell us why.

This ties into what I wrote initially, i.e., the government considers you the enemy. Our government puts a lot of effort into protecting its secrets. They don’t want you to see dying soldiers. They don’t want you to know why we’re in Afghanistan now, years after being there might have arguably done some good. And there are a lot of other things they don’t want you to know. They classify documents all day long every day, including weekends and holidays. It seems that as the Post Office is cutting back, the classifiers are ramping up. They have so many classified documents that most of the time, when they finally become unclassified, its not clear why they were ever classified in the first place.

And what is the point of classifying documents? And trying to censor the press? The point is that YOU are not to be told what is really going on. Read some history and you’ll know at once that our government is riddled with spies. We have more moles in our government than in a plastic surgeon’s waste basket. And some of those moles have security clearances you and I could only dream of. To cite just a few examples of the government’s security clearance aptitude, Soviet spies given the highest clearance knew the innermost secrets of our entire nuclear weapons program during WWII and supplied the USSR with all the details necessary to build their own bomb shorty after the war. Our nuclear submarine program, classified in every detail for decades, was dimed out by more than one traitor on the inside, putting innumerable lives at stake. This is the rule, not the exception. There is literally no secret the government classifies that is not known almost immediately by our enemies. And when the spy isn’t in our midst, he or she is likely in the employ of one of our allies with whom we also share the secrets that you and I are not allowed to know. The British are famous for trusting their spies right up until the decade after they’ve defected.

So you, my friend, are the target of this censorship. You are the target of classification of secrets. Our enemies know a lot more about our government than you do or ever will. In fact, the average poppy grower in Afghanistan likely has a truer picture of the United States Government than most of us ever will. But you pay taxes and vote and sometimes volunteer to die for your country. The enemy doesn’t do that. Do they? I guess you can think of not knowing the truth as your reward for citizenship.

So, say a prayer for Lance Corporal Bernard. Feel his pain. Try to imagine his life slipping away as he went into shock and the world went ghostly silent, slipping just out of his reach. Put yourself in the place of his grieving parents. Because that is exactly what the government of your country does not want you to do. Because if you truly do that, truly feel that, then you are the enemy. Until next time.

Poor little stupid, stupid Virginia. She’s never seen anyone get old and die. She’s never had to face death and realize that it’s an inevitable part of life. She is a rudimentary life form in this big wide world. She’s never wiped and powdered someone’s behind as they lay dying, so they don’t get painful, oozing bedsores. She’s never had to keep an eye on doddering old Aunt Tilda, who doesn’t know whether she’s chugging burning coffee or a cool glass of water. She’s never fed someone too weak to feed herself. She’s never lived in a house where multiple generations coexist, depending on each other, helping each other, getting to know the differences between children, teenagers, middle-aged parents and old, failing grandparents. She’s never learned from the wisdom and failings  of each generation as the events of the day are discussed around the dinner table each evening.

She hasn’t had these experiences because poor, idiotic little Virginia is a child. And you haven’t had them for exactly the same reason. Yes, you have been infantilized by our mobile, break-up-the-family oriented society. You have been dumbed down by our warehousing health care system – our nursing home-hospital-industrial complex. You brain has been reduced to mush by third party interference in the life cycle of the species Homo Sapien. And you’ve been educated by an equally infantile generation of government bureaucrats masquerading as teachers.

Back when I was a kid, families were just getting out of the habit of living together. It was not unusual for three and four generations of a family to live under the same roof. In those days, a vacation was a few hours being anywhere except home. Being at home could drive you crazy at times. And it could do something else – force you to grow up and face reality. Chiefly, the reality that people wither and die.

Here in America, people don’t really die anymore. Even with the advent of hospice care, a small step in the right direction, those who don’t simply drop dead all at once just fade away. At a distance. Out of our sight and out of our care. They are whisked away to a shiny palace called a hospital, where teams of highly trained professionals wipe their dying behinds and feed them when they’re too weak to feed themselves. A housekeeping staff cleans their room so it’s all florescenty antiseptic. Then they let you come in and visit. But not for too long. A few hours is enough to show your concern.

Then when grandma stops breathing in the middle of the night, the third shift of highly trained professionals will put her on a ventilator and give her fancy antibiotics, so she’ll still be in her spotless room when you visit the next day. She won’t know you’re there, but at least you’ll feel better because you took time (but not a lot of time) out of your busy schedule to visit.

After a week of this, your non-functioning grandma dies. You don’t have to show up. The hospital calls the funeral home for you. It’s all taken care of. It’s been so hard on you. Oh how you have suffered for your beloved grandma.

You didn’t change a sheet, wipe a behind or spoon one drop of Jello into grandma’s mouth. All you did when they called a week ago was say “Do everything.” Those magic words. Do Everything. Roll them around on your tongue. These words assuaged any guilt you may have had about grandma. Maybe you didn’t call or visit often enough. But now, at no cost to you, these magic words have made you a better person.

Our country has sanitized death. Removed it from our lives, or at least the part of our lives we actively participate in. And the magical phrase “Do everything” makes it possible to be a better person at everyone else’s expense. We have farmed out our family relationships. Replaced them with television, the internet and experts who always know better than us what to do with our dying relatives.

Whatever government decides to do about health care, the one thing it won’t do is have the needed discussion about how we die in this country. Because that discussion should never have been with the government in the first place. The political class want to avoid the topic just like poor little dimwitted Virginia. They want to keep us in our infantile state. It makes us more pliable to their foolishness.

We need to have this discussion among ourselves. We need to readjust our expectations. Take care of our own for a change. We must reintegrate death into our psyches because it surely comes to us all. We need to make it acceptable to die without a gaggle of tubes and high tech wizardry plaguing our last moments. And any health care plan that plays make believe with death and dying will fail and should fail.

Poor little imbecilic Virginia has an excuse for all of this. She is but a child. What’s your excuse? Yes, they are going to pull grandma’s plug. And they SHOULD pull grandma’s plug. In fact, most of the time, grandma should never have been plugged in at all. Until next time.

Addendum: In case you don’t know, Virginia O’Hanlon was the little girl who in 1897 wrote a letter asking the editor of the New York Sun if Santa Claus existed. Sun editor Francis Church famously answered that “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.” Yes, he lied. And to put an even finer point on the story and this blog post, Virginia O’Hanlon died in 1971 . . . . in a nursing home.

I used to spend a lot of time reading bills. I’d follow references in the bills to already existing legislation, sometimes even legislation from other states and countries. Then I’d write a synopsis of what I’d read. How stupid was that? Nowadays I rarely read bills. In fact, I urge others not to read them. And I don’t even listen to people who purport to tell me what’s in bills. Why? Because it’s all irrelevant.

A bill is the  journey, not the destination. And the purported destination in this case – a piece of health care reform legislation – is but a way station in a process meant to do one thing and one thing only: further break the health care system in this country. And I say that even though I don’t have a dog in this hunt. I dislike the current corporatist-government health care system, as I will dislike the future government-corporatist health care system. The only difference in the near term will be who has the upper hand, government or health insurance corporations. But in the long term, no matter what happens in the short term, we will have something very different. Government will take over all of health care. It is inevitable.

The function of a bill is to get you to a law. And the function of a law is to break the object of the bill, which gives you a reason to amend the law, over and over and over. And since nothing government does is ever final, the work of breaking stuff is never done. And that may be the most realistic and depressing civics lesson you’ll ever have.

So worry not what is in the bill. Don’t listen to the talking heads scoring the myths and truths being circulated about the bill. Don’t listen to those who would scare you about what’s in the bill. Don’t listen to those who purport to tell you the wonderful benefits you’ll receive from the bill. Don’t waste your time. Just know that you’re not likely to benefit, everything you’re scared about will come true (or pretty close), and everyone who was trying to sell you on or scare you about the bill will not be affected at all. They will always have better insurance than you, better doctors than you, and on the whole a more carefree and satisfying life than you, right up until the day they land in Hell and have to justify themselves. Oops.

Government has to break stuff to survive. If it didn’t, how could a motley crew like our governing class convince you they are necessary? So, further break health care they will. And when they’ve broken it way beyond the point of no return, we will have a government-run single payer system, just as surely as night follows day, swans return to Capistrano and the Pope wears a funny hat. And just as our more Socialist European and Canadian cousins before us, we will be forced to buy add-on insurance policies to cover the shortcomings of our government-care program because, and I cannot stress this enough, COLLECTIVISM DOES NOT WORK.

The idea of a free market in health care was either bred out of us or educated out of us long ago. In fact, those of us old enough to remember the days when we had pretty close to a free market in health care will all be dead in fifty years. When we’ve had a full generation of government-run health care, there will be no memory of freedom in health care or anything else. That which took millennia to recognize as the highest order of human interaction will have taken only a few generations to eradicate. But hey, what’s a millennium of human progress, when balanced against a doctor bill for the sniffles?

So, if it’s not in the bill, just wait a while. If it’s currently in the bill, just wait a while. Because the final form of a bill is nothing like the early drafts. And the law that results will look like nothing you’ve seen yet, since it will start out as the codification of an unworkable concept, then become an even more overstuffed pinata of bad ideas as time marches on. And that’s the point of legislation. Anyone who tells you what is or isn’t in the bill is either wrong, or lying, or more likely both.

And how will the health care overhaul be paid for? Well, that’s a topic for another day. But I’ll give you a preview. Inflation. Until next time.

We need a free market in health care, as we do in everything. In the past, we have been a country of innovation and accomplishment. Even the limited amount of free market activity we were able to squeeze out between the cracks of our economic meshwork was enough to make us exceptional. But we are no longer able to sustain. We have been overtaken by an ideology that used to be considered both foreign and undesirable. The reasons are clear. By creating an unstable base of operation for our lives, government and its corporate partners have cast a pall of hopelessness over us. All thick and blankety.

I’ve lamented on this blog and elsewhere that there is no constituency for freedom. But I don’t remember things ever being this bad. Just a few years ago, liberal/collectivist types were so ashamed of their labels that they became “progressives.” Now, we are instructed daily that a little socialism is fine. And besides, it’s not really socialism if the majority wants it.

That’s wrong on so many levels that I can’t think about it without my head trying to explode. So, I’m going to take our fake health care debate and our fake choices and try to boil down the fake answers to those that make sense in our collectivist-corporatist economic system.

First – Health insurance is not health care. I can’t make the point strongly enough. Health care is what you do every day. It’s your lifestyle, what you eat, whether you walk or take the car, how much or how little you run on stress, whether you take vitamins or get enough sunlight. That kind of thing.

The debate over “health care” is really a debate over health insurance. So, let’s fix health insurance and let government move on and break something else it can then “fix.”

There are a couple of easy measures that could end the entire debate and would garner wide support:

1. Portability. Your insurance is now completely portable because congress says so. See how easy that was? And congress can do just that. Insurance can no longer be a benefit of or tied in any way to a job. That means you can change jobs and not worry. And you can lose your job for a while with a lot less worry. No employer incentives to provide insurance. No tax breaks for insurance payments, either corporate or individual. This is really the easiest and most obvious place to fix insurance. And we can thank those who want to keep government big and growing for the fact that it has not been fixed before.

2. High Deductible, Low Cost Plans. This is what insurance is supposed to look like. Insurance isn’t supposed to pay for  coughs and colds. It’s supposed to pay for the big stuff. And with no more tax and employer incentives to buy Cadillac plans, these plans would be very popular. In fact, I have one myself. Even though it has a higher deductible than my previous policy, the premiums are much lower. I am able to save enough that the savings would cover the deductible every couple of years if need be. Of course, since I rarely get sick and never go to the doctor, I get to pocket that money instead.

3. Medical Savings Accounts.These go along with number 2. I hate the idea of adding to a tax code that shouldn’t exist at all in my free market, no trampoline world. But being allowed to save enough to cover three to five years of insurance deductibles tax free in an account that could be rolled over from year to year would certainly make a lot of sense. It would create a bit of a pseudo-market in the low end of care. And that might actually keep costs down in the long run.

4. Insurability. Another easy fix. Pre-existing conditions? No problem. Poof, you’re insured. Congress, again, simply needs to say so. And insurance companies, now being fully collectivist and happy to follow government commands, will go right along with it. Let’s say they can rate someone by 15% for each pre-existing condition. Because we have to face the fact that in our collectivist world, when someone shows up with a serious illness and is uninsured, the hospitals and practitioners and government merely pass the cost on to us anyway. Might as well get them insured and get a few premium payments from them before they show up at the hospital.

In our fake debate with fake choices, those are the easiest and most workable solutions. We don’t need to mandate tort reform because that would be un-American. And in a fake debate with fake choices, this may be the most fake of all. Democrats love trial lawyers. Republicans hate them. So Republican are always trying to squeeze the lawyers out. Sorry, elections have consequences and this is one of them. The trial lawyers win this round. And the cost of malpractice insurance is just one more thing that gets passed along to patients anyway. No business pays taxes or insurance costs. They are always passed on to the consumer.

So, that’s my non-market answer in this fake debate. Until next time.

So, we sort of have this wall of separation. However, if you watch Huckabee, a Fox News (?) Channel show named for Huckleberry Hound, since he’s the host (go ahead, just try to tell me that guy doesn’t look like Huckleberry Hound), then you’ll discover all manner of guests who will swear up and down on a stack of religious paraphernalia that Jefferson was indeed a believer in Jesus Christ and never meant to say any such thing.

Actually, they are partially right. Jefferson indeed believed in Christ. But his version of Christ was very different than today’s evangelical “buddy-Christ.” He was not a purveyor of a Christ who served as your imaginary friend, that Christ who you converse with about the vagaries of your day in the darkness of your room before you jot it all down in your Hello Kitty diary.

Jefferson was a Deist, who believed that Christ was a teacher and an extraordinary human being. And he felt that those who wrote Christ’s story after his death were mostly embellishers and purveyors of  . . . um . . . compost. In fact, he created the Jefferson Bible, in which he retained the words he believed to be Christ’s, and literally sliced and diced the rest onto the compost pile. He felt the words of Christ could be picked out from the rest as easily as picking “diamonds from dunghills.”

But those who believe there should be no wall say “Why pick Jefferson? He wasn’t even a signatory of the Constitution. He wasn’t even at the Constitutional Convention.” And they are correct. Were the rest of the founders believers in a supernatural Christ? Were they fans of the Christ who comforts you in your times of sorrow, rewards you with gold and stuff when you are poor and fixes your traffic tickets? Did they believe that government should not “establish” a particular state religion, but it’s okay if government de facto promotes a certain acceptable spectrum of religious belief?

Don’t know. And frankly, don’t care. I don’t care what the founders thought about religion. I don’t care what they thought about gun rights. I don’t care what they thought about just about anything. And neither do you or anybody else. Words on hemp paper are not, and have never been, the reason we are sort of free. I care about our lives today and in the future. And because I care about our lives, I want that wall of separation. I want your religion and my religion to be a non-factor in our governance. I want gun rights to be completely left out of our governance. There are some things that are just too darned important to be the object of government. Any government.

I want to live in that country that believes government governs best when it governs least. God doesn’t command government to do more. Man does. Christ has never spoken to any one of us and said, “Go forth and take the reins of government so you can do my bidding.” In fact, Christ was the consummate outsider. He reveled in being that gnat that flies in the face of the powerful, buzzing their ears, flying up their nose, driving them completely bat-guano crazy.

Those who practice religion do not necessarily need to emulate Christ in that way. There is no reason they need be eternally on the outside of the political process. But attempting to codify their religious beliefs in law is both bad religion and bad governance. We all come to the process with our beliefs, religious and otherwise. And if our religion guides us to be kind and respectful, that’s just great. If it instead leads us to be piously overbearing, intolerant and arrogant, then it is no longer productive and in fact becomes dangerous.

When religion, any religion or religious faction, becomes dangerous to the safety of its non-adherents, there is a payment to be made. That payment may be a long time coming, but it will be arriving, nonetheless. Your religion may hold the power now, but it will not always be so. Power is a fickle companion.

I’ll take a separation beteen church and state, thank you very much. And one between state and me whenever possible. I will always choose to live in a secularly governed, religiously tolerant society. You should too if you know what’s good for you. Until next time.

Here is the first Merriam Webster Dictionary definition of invocation.

Invocation: 1. The act or process of petitioning for help or support, a prayer of entreaty (as at the beginning of a service of worship).

But I like the second definition a lot better.

Invocation: 2. A formula for conjuring.

See what I mean? That second definition adds some perspective on what’s actually happening, doesn’t it? Conjuring. It fairly reeks of snake oil salesmen and medical side shows from the 1800′s. Doesn’t that fraud John Edwards conjure spirits from the “other side?”

In my home county, the Republican meetings all start with a “formula for conjuring.” Ninety percent of the time, that formula includes a heartfelt, shake the rafters Hallelujah! and Amen! in the name of our lord Jesus Christ.

Everyone bows his or her head and prays to the savior who was sent to earth to wash away our sins. Except for one nay saying piece of garbage standing next to the guy who’s standing next to me. Yeah, that would be me. I just look around the room and wonder if I’ve entered the twilight zone. I keep waiting for everyone to look up, grin and say, “We were just messing with you. We don’t really mean to pray to Jesus when there are Jews, Muslims, Atheists, and probably a couple of Hindus in the room. We just wanted to see if you got the joke.”

But they’re not joking. They are invoking their version of the deity, or more specifically, his son, to shine down his special light upon their regular bi-monthly meetings. I guess he’s being asked to worry about the party headquarters office budget, and the phone banking seniors, and the warriors in HIS name who will be registering new voters at the Safeway on Saturday.

I’m going to take this a little further because I don’t think that’s all they’re doing. Sure, they want God and Jesus to smile down upon their efforts, sort of like the political version of Notre Dame football. But even more, they want me and everyone who thinks like me to get the message. What message? Get the hell out.

That seems simple enough. I am not wanted. I have not taken Jesus into my heart, so I should go fornicate myself. Oh, and I will burn in hell for all eternity. Have a nice day.

There is also another facet to this. They seem to believe that if they can just make me acknowledge the conjuring spell, for one second see their prayer as legitimate, maybe Jesus will be able to sneak into my heart. And possession being nine tenths of the law . . . Well, you see where I’m going there.

The Pledge To A Piece Of Cloth is used in very much the same way. Repeat the words often enough and they sort of lose their meaning. They become a reflex. Even atheists and agnostics are almost compelled to say “one nation, under god.” It’s the same kind of imprinting that makes ducklings follow their mother along the beach, or in a pinch, a human scientist standing in for their mother. Never mind that the Pledge was created by a Socialist and the words “under god” were only added in the 1950′s to force those dirty, godless commies among us to . . . what . . . burst into flames when they said the words? Make their godless commie mouths say the words and soon their heads and hearts will follow.

Well, they’ve sort of gotten their wish. I have gone away. More specifically,  I won’t donate to or work for any professing religionist. And that includes all religions. If someone tells me he is a man of God, then God will have to walk the precinct for him. Zeus, Gaia, Beelzebub, same thing. Maybe all those quarters the Tooth Fairy leaves under his pillow will fund his campaign. After all, a superstition is a superstition, right? (I think I’m showing my age with that Tooth Fairy thing. Is it a five dollar bill the Fairy leaves these days?)

I started this essay with a simple title. My God is Better than your God. Why do I say that? Because my God doesn’t care one bit if you’re a Republican or a Democrat. My God doesn’t care if you pray or not. And he doesn’t care if Notre Dame’s football team loses or not. (I like to think my God agrees with me that his favorite teams are anyone who’s playing against the Mets or Notre Dame, but that’s probably just wishful thinking on my part.) You see, my God is better than yours because my God is agnostic. Until next time.

But when it comes to our rights, I think we need a much simpler, more secular standard. The Federal Constitution has a Bill of Rights appended. This list of ten amendments was never supposed to be exhaustive. It was meant to be a reiteration of some of our more important rights, added in case legislators someday tried to deny the existence of those rights. During the ratification process, it was believed the Constitution would not be agreed to without this declaration of rights. Of course, Alexander Hamilton felt that there was no reason to append these rights-protecting amendments. He claimed this step was unnecessary in his multi-authored snow job, The Federalist Papers. Because, he reasoned, who could ever question the existence of rights that everybody knew they had?

Any names come to mind who might question your rights? Hmmm? Yeah, Hamilton was as full of garbage as any founding father could ever be. The same man who felt the Bill of Rights was superfluous also was a monarchist, and saddled us with the first central bank. On a scale of Ghandi to Ming The Merciless, Hamilton has to be sitting at the right hand of Ming. If you look downward toward Hades long enough, maybe this can be verified.

Since the post-Civil War passage of the Fourteenth Amendment, an entirely new church of legal scholarship has sprouted. It’s called the Doctrine of Incorporation. See, it turns out that some people felt our rights in the Bill of Rights were only guaranteed against incursion by the federal government. Then, when the Fourteenth Amendment was ratified, there was a battle over just how much of the Bill of Rights the states themselves had to live up to (that’s what incorporation means.)  The winning team in this contest espoused a “selective incorporation” doctrine. So, some but not all of your rights are protected from overreaching states. And over the last century and a half, the judiciary has been selectively picking and choosing which rights those are.

I propose a reformation of the Church of Incorporation. In my reformation, we will side with the faction who felt the Bill of Rights was a floor beneath which our rights could not fall. That all of our rights, including all the ones reiterated in the Bill of Rights, were not only protected from federal encroachment, but also from incursion by the states or any other subdivision of government.

My reformation should have a name. I think I’ll call it the “Liberty and Justice For All” reformation. And all judges are invited, nay COMMANDED by the Law Their God, to join. Until next time.

Not only was Fermi brilliant, but he was also quite unusual. There have been a limited number of geniuses in this universe, and most of them are geniuses in a limited sphere of human endeavor. Brilliant physicists are usually brilliant in either theoretical or experimental physics, but not both. Fermi was unusual because he was equally brilliant in both, as well as being a brilliant mathematician.

Einstein was a theoretical guy. Didn’t do experiments. But Fermi could do it all. His early work was integral to the development of the first nuclear reactor and the atomic bomb. He also contributed heavily to quantum theory, and nuclear and particle physics.

So, why the lesson in scientific history? Because one of my chemistry professors once told me a story about Fermi. Seems that Fermi could cut to the chase better than any scientist of his, or maybe any, time.

When a scientist formulated a theory, no matter what discipline of science or mathematics it involved, he or she would often run it by Fermi to see if it was correct. Obviously, Fermi could not be an expert in every field of science and mathematics, but other very smart people would do just about anything for an audience with Fermi.

How did Fermi decide which theories were correct? They were correct if they were “beautiful.” When Fermi saw beauty in a theory, he saw truth in that theory. Conversely, he dismissed those theories he found untruthful by deeming them insufficiently beautiful.

What was this “beauty” of Fermi’s? Probably a combination of logic and simplicity. He didn’t much care for needless complication, often eschewing complicated mathematical formulas for much simpler explanations of physical phenomena. He is known to have estimated the kilotonage of the first nuclear blast by dribbling small pieces of paper in the air during the shock wave. And his estimate was pretty close. These days, such “back of the envelope” methods for doing calculations are known as “The Fermi Method.”

And now to the point. Liberty is beautiful. Free individuals voluntarily associating, or not associating, with other individuals in the ways in which they freely choose. Having the unquestioned right to live as they choose and protect what they own as long as they take precaution not to infringe on the rights of others to live likewise.

Anyone see liberty in a different way? Is it unjust? Unappealing? Un-beautiful? Maybe you’d suggest another system that’s more appealing. Socialism? Fascism? Monarchy? Dictatorship? A combination of different systems, like our current mixed socialism/fascism/pseudo-capitalism? The Swiss “Third Way” perhaps?

If you have a problem with liberty, I think I understand why. It’s never been tried. Unmanaged freedom has never happened on any large scale. And it seems so messy, so unpredictable, so random, why should we give it a chance? Isn’t order of some kind, really any kind, preferable?

We’ve certainly had all kinds of experiments in ordered existence. Socialism/Communism? Mixed results at best. Dictatorships? We’ve had them up the wazoo. Monarchy? There have been about a thousand variations on that old chestnut. And they’ve “worked” from time to time, for a time. They haven’t much worked for the individual, but for the collective they’ve continued the hive structure, populated by endless hordes of worker bees, toiling for the queen, or the dictator, or the politburo, or for just about anyone besides the bee doing the actual work.

In contrast, the beauty inherent in liberty is very much its own reward. Its free flowing randomness may actually be its greatest virtue. It doesn’t need statistical justification. It needs no apologists. It has its flaws, principle among them being that it’s a system composed of flawed human beings. But even if it worked 5% worse than socialism or fascism by some peer reviewed criteria (doubtful), it would still be the only beautiful system. The only system that acknowledges the worth of every person. The simplest self-sustaining expression of humanity.

I don’t know that Fermi ever turned his formidable talents for recognizing beauty toward the greater human condition. But since I am sort of his stand in, being his earthbound replacement and all, I’d like to think that if presented with the theory of liberty, Enrico would close his eyes and a smile would come to his lips. He’d nod slowly and say “La libertà è bella.” Until next time.

Don’t tax you. Don’t tax me. Tax that fellow behind the tree.

See what I mean? Lamest poem ever. Longfellow has this guy beat by a full “fellow” when it comes to poetry. Probably would have been a better senator, too. My Head Explodes Blog rule of thumb: Any senator or congressman who has a building named after him, in Washington D.C. or anywhere else, stole a whole lot of money for one state and screwed forty-nine other states.

Breaking News! A My Head Explodes exclusive. My first poem:

There once was a VP from Delaware who grabbed onto taxpayers’ underwear. He yanked the stretch bands in his hot sweaty hands, said bend over and here’s your free health care.

Eat it, formerly living Senator Russell Long! In your face! I even managed to leave out the part that rhymed with “bucket.”

Why do I bring up Senator Long’s awful ditty? And why have I rhapsodized about Vice President Biden? Very simple. It’s the free health care two-step. We have been inundated with plan after plan. They’ll pay for it with sin taxes. They’ll pay for it with a tax on the rich. They’ll pay for it by cost savings. They’ll pay for it with no taxes. Take your pick. But don’t expect any protection from that tree when they extract the real cost from your pocket.

And Joe Biden has been thrust out there as the public face of health care for the administration. I’m not sure what qualifies him for this duty, unless it’s his spotty hair transplant. Or maybe his cerebral aneurysm, initially misdiagnosed as a neck strain. Or possibly it’s that he was a senator until a few months ago. And as we all know, senators are experts on everything. Just ask them. They have a “hearing” on any subject from plantar warts to nuclear fusion, to which none of them shows up to “listen,” and voila, they are experts.

Anyway, we’ve been presented lots of “plans.” Most of which lack details, and all of which completely ignore economic reality. Today I read that hospitals will forgo 155 billion dollars in medicaid and medicare funds over the next ten years to help implement pseudo-universal health care. Huh? There is no way that will ever happen. In fact, hospitals don’t make money on medicaid and medicare patients now. These programs routinely take taxpayer money from us, give it to hospitals to cover less than the hospitals’ expenses for whatever procedure is being reimbursed, then the hospitals pass on the real cost to those of us with private insurance or, heaven forbid, no insurance.

There is no 155 billion to save. Never was. Never will be. It’s a figment of Karl Marx’s imagination. The cost will merely be shifted to us via higher payments for our health care and higher insurance premiums. Then, if insurance premium caps are ever put in place, what this will accomplish is to kill off private insurance companies completely.

And that is the real point. All the private insurers will be folded into one huge government insurance program. It will start out as the “government option,” but pressure from multiple fronts will eventually make the government option the only option.

So, we will go careening from a really bad system (the current mish mosh of government insurance, private insurance, no insurance, and high cost) to a single payer system with a brief tip of the cap, or flip of the finger, to corporatism as we pass from one extreme to the other. And in the end, instead of rationing by price we will have our health care rationed by political concerns.

There is no fellow behind the tree. Heck, there probably ain’t even a tree at all. We will all pay for this free stuff, whether it’s by taxes, higher fees or higher insurance premiums levied on us by force. Or alternatively, we will pay for it by getting less care while those who are politically favored get more care.

I am not one to shed a tear for the hated and hateful private insurance companies. They have always been partners of government in one way or another. Good riddance. But I will shed a tear when government completely takes over health care. I will shed a tear because political health care will not be good health care. And we should all shed a tear for the fact that once again, there is no constituency in this country for free market health care or freedom in general. Until next time. (And I promise, no poetry next time.)

Great movie. One of the best ever made. The final climactic one-man filibuster that brings Smith’s corrupt co-senator and political patron to tearfully confess his many sins is just amazing. And it’s all bull refuse. Every stinking bit of it. Great movies are nothing like reality. If reality was so amazing, we’d have people running around filming real people’s lives and showing it on . . . oh crap. Now I have to explain something. “Reality Shows” are also not real. Every one of them is staged and in no way resembles real life. You did know that, right?

So, anyway, Mr. Smith ends up in Washington because the political machine assumes he’s a doofus who can be easily controlled. He is an innocent, a lamb among wolves, if you will. And Jimmy Stewart is amazing in the role, as usual. Stewart was so good for so long, it’s safe to say he will never be surpassed. And here’s a good one. His “aw shucks,” stumbling, stuttering persona had a modern day analogue in the political arena. Who, you ask?

Venezuelan Playboy and Governor of South Carolina, Mark Sanford. The self-effacing Sanford had that same gawky, asexual, naive, well-intentioned vibe. Humble. Reluctant. Unpolished. Reserved. Honest. All of these words could have been used to describe Sanford just as easily as Smith. Sanford was ill at ease in his political life and apparently devoted to his family.

Well, all of that has been dashed on the rocks of his South American adventure. But there’s the rub. He is exactly what he appeared to be. He is exactly the kind of guy who falls for something new and seductive. He lived a sedate, staid existence, burdened with a passionless marriage (and having seen the Mrs. interviewed recently, I really do get that) that seemed more a business arrangement with offspring than a union of soul mates.

He tried to subjugate desire by turning to a substitute drug: Religion. He prayed. Oh, how he prayed. He participated in regular meetings with a group of similarly “religious” folk. They even held their meetings in the governor’s mansion. Pretty heady stuff. Mark Sanford tried everything he could to deny that he was missing something that every human needs: passion.

Food, water, shelter, sunlight, passion. Basic human needs. And when you’re missing the last one, the other four describe existence, not life. Governor Sanford’s version of Mr. Smith didn’t get his last act, the one where he takes on the establishment for the kids back home. Sanford’s last act is very likely the rest of his term as governor, then a few years attempting to resuscitate his bloodless corpse of a marriage.

My suggestion? Stop praying. Stop apologizing. Stop acting like the dutiful husband. In fact, you are giving us truly committed and happy husbands a pain where we sit. I recommend you talk to this Venezuelan woman. Maybe she’s really the one for you. Sure, she’s not an heiress with an interest in running your political campaigns from your basement. She’s over forty, so maybe she isn’t interested in adding to the Sanford brood. But maybe she’s your passion. I doubt it, but it’s possible. You see, Mark, the grass is always greener . . .

But for once in your life, you should take a chance. Go with it. You love your kids? Good for you. In fact, what human being doesn’t love his kids? You don’t have to stay with your wife to love your kids and spend time with them. Go find out if this woman is the one for you. Spend some time with her. My guess? Nope. But what do I know? I have been happily married for almost thirty years. And I’ve never once been to a praying club. Never depended on someone else, either alive or imaginary, to enforce my priorities. But you should try to live while you’re still alive. And while you’re dumping your wife, please have the courage to dump all your sanctimonious god-fearing “friends.” They have done you no service.

Yeah, Mr. Sanford doesn’t go to Washington in my story. But maybe he becomes a person rather than the imprint of others. Until next time.