healthcare debate

There’s something I’ve noticed lately. People are vehemently resistant to the notion of “some bureaucrat in Washington” making decisions regarding their healthcare. The ironic thing is that if you are one of the Americans lucky enough to have health insurance (and there are 47 million who are not as fortunate), then – quite literally – you already have bureaucrats making decisions regarding your healthcare. Is a bureaucrat in Chicago or Hartford or Des Moines really that much more worthy of our trust? I think not.

See, insurance companies are corporations and the primary purpose of every corporation is to make money for shareholders. And the only way to make money is to take in more than you pay out. Thereore, insurance companies really don’t have our (customers') best interests at heart. How could they? The natural inclination of every insurance company is to take your money and deny your claim. There are only a couple of things, as far as I can see, that prevent this from happening:
1) fear of litigation
2) fear of losing customers to the competition if customer satisfaction falls below the industry average

So even when insurance companies pay a claim they’re only doing it keep the money rolling in. The even have a word for canceling your policy once you get sick: rescission. And it's legal even if you've been paying into the same plan with the same company for decades. Isn't the reason that you pay into a plan year after year when you're healthy so that it's there when you get sick and need it? Compare that to a government who issues no-bid contracts and fights to keep buying more obsolete bombers that have never seen action in combat. I think I prefer the wasteful apparatus of the federal government to the corner cutting, bottom-line-obsessed machinations of the insurance industry when it comes to making decisions about the quality of my healthcare. But that's just me. More thoughts to follow...

scrappiness

I was at the Dodgers-Brewers game tonight and Craig Counsell came up to bat. My first thought was: "shouldn't he be providing color commentary for a minor league affiliate in Duluth by now?" An inning or so later Jason Kendall came up to bat and my first thought was: "I could have sworn he was dead."

That's about the time I got the idea for a team made up entirely of diminutive white guys who, despite a near constant stream terrible stats year after year, still - somewhat inexplicably - make it onto big league clubs year after year. They are commonly referred to as "scrappy."

Side note: Only white players can be labeled "scrappy." It's an unwritten law of sports journalism. If you're small, white, and not particularly athletic you're scrappy. Especially if you play middle infield.

Well, the backbone of my team would be Craig Counsell and Jason Kendall. And right off the bat (so to speak) I added David Eckstein and Dustin Pedroia to my roster of hardworking munchkins. A little more thought brought me to journeyman Adam Kennedy and the A's Mark Ellis. Once I got home, five minutes on ESPN's website (your worldwide leader in sports) led me to add Scott Posednik and Ryan Freel into the mix. Let's toss Ryan Theriot in there as a totally superflous utility player as well. The great thing about this team is that it doesn't really matter who plays where on defense, because they're all pretty much the same player. And they're all so scrappy and selfless that they'll gladly play any position. Truth be told, most of them are just happy to be on a big-league roster. That just leaves leaves a pitcher - and is there anyone better for this little thought experiment than the wily veteran Tim Wakefield? I think not. You don't really need anyone else on your staff when your ace is that crafty. And Craig Biggio would be my manager.

And there you have it: a team that would hit 50 home runs over the course of a season, but would have 300 ground ball base hits. They'd grind games by scores like 2-1 and 3-2 with smart baserunning and gritty defense and by running out ground balls like it's their first day in the pros. And everyone's jersey would be dirty by the third inning. It would be the most boring baseball ever.