A repost, but one that Your Friendly(?) Neighborhood Amoeba deems essential in the wake of Our (yes, yours and mine, through Our Elected Representatives) abominable, execrable efforts to block the delivery of healthcare to all American citizens except its billionaires and their sycophants.
* * * * * *
My medicines the doctors use
(Albeit vainly) to refuse
To me my fair and rightful prey
And keep their own in shape to pay
– Satan (Ambrose Bierce), in “Tariff”, The Devil’s Dictionary
“Amoeba speaking.”
“[…] Should we be alerting the media?”
“The dog’s not big enough. How may I help you?”
“Sir, we’ve been trying to contact you for days now. You’ve received the biopsy report on that growth. We’d like to proceed immediately.”
“Yes ma’am. Begging your pardon, but, while I bow-wow to your expertise, of course – speaking of dogs – the information I’ve received elsewhere tells me that the matter is not quite so urgent as that. Except perhaps to your shareholders.”
“Sir. This is your life we’re talking about!”
“Which no one in America cares a flying fickle finger of fate about, except in my role as cash cow. Sorry, but last I checked, moooo was not in my vocabulary. Neither was health insurance, like 50 million of the rest of us.”
“But …”
“Yes, yes. If you don’t operate, I will die. But if you do, naturally, I will live forever. Did you remember to compound a youth elixir for that?”
“This is the only life you have, sir.”
“Which I will do with as I see fit. And I mostly see fit not to saddle my friends and relations unto the fourth generation with making the payments on the BMW’s of medical practitioners and health insurance executives. No, wait. The executives will have Rolls Royce machines. My bad. Good day to you, madam.”