First off, Dean Heller. Well done! Dum Dum and Turtle Man are gonna dangle various bribes, dollars, payola pork in front of you to make this steaming evil vile detestable turdburger of an insurance plan more palatable (remember, if you slather chipotle mayo, jalapenos and bacon on a shit sandwich, it’s still a shit sandwich). Be a leader. Make us proud. Don’t sell us out.
Yes, it’s slightly misleading to keep using the figure that 23 million people will lose their health insurance should this dreadful bill pass the Senate. Misleading because that’s an estimate for the year 2026, and really, who knows what the hell is gonna happen in ten years? So very often, 10 year projections of any kind are not much more than space filler, completely disconnected from reality. What happens, for example, when we get fusion reactors in 2022? Or if the Space People land in Yankee Stadium in 2019? Or if Antarctica melts in 2024 and releases Godzilla to wreak havoc upon the planet?
No, the real figure to remember in the current health care discussion is 15 million, which is the estimated number of Americans who will lose their insurance next year should the Republican Death Act get passed. That’s the number that’s disturbing. That’s the ugly, looming shocker.
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Rachel’s right when she says, “Don’t listen to what they say. Pay attention to what they do.” Good advice. Because whenever Dum Dum cranks out some crude nasty tweet that shocks with its petty lameness, you can bet that means he wants to distract. So go ahead and be horrified. Then, begin looking around for the real mischief. You’ll find it.
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Trump was talking about space during a signing ceremony on June 30th to re-establish the National Space Council. Predictably, the quotes were worthy of a double take. “At some point in the future, we’re going to look back and say, How did we do it without space?” Uh, whatever you say, sir.
Then, he looks at Apollo 11 astronaut Buzz Aldrin and says, “There’s a lot of room out there, right?” Aldrin plays along, quotes Toy Story. “To infinity and beyond.” Dum Dum doesn’t catch the reference, but rambles on anyway. “This is infinity here. It could be infinity. We don’t really know. But it could be. It has to be something. But it could be infinity. Right?”
Whatever you say, sir. Jesus. It would be just swell if this potato head was the manager of the local Sizzler or maybe a local golf pro. Fine. But President of the freaking country?