A Conversation With Mr. Bureaucrat


The problems with Obama’s health bill are numerous as quills on a porcupine’s tail, but the one that has finally caught the attention of the American people can be found in section 1223. This 10-page segment states that the elderly be required to submit to euthanasia counseling sessions in which a bureaucrat (I’m sure he would be a well-qualified bureaucrat with the best of intentions) would help them understand their relative and declining value to society.

Obama, Pelosi and cronies apparently failed to anticipate, or just didn’t care about, the defiance and outright mutiny they would generate by mandating euthanasia counseling for folks Obama dubbed “those toward the end of their lives” who he added “are accounting for potentially 80 percent of the total health care bill out here.”

I’ll be turning 65 in December so I can see the writing on the wall if this bill passes with section 1233 intact. I might get the piggy flu a few years down the line and have to undergo euthanasia counseling which I figure could go something like this.

Bureaucrat: “Well Jinx, I have been asked to give you our advance care planning consultation concerning end of life services. I’ve looked over your file and I see that you have been a cattle rancher for most of your life. Clearly you have raised enough beef to feed a thousand people each year for over a span of more than 50 years and have made many contributions to the betterment of your community. Still it is plain to see that at your age, you just don’t have much to offer anymore. There just ain’t much demand for old cowboys in today’s society. Ha, ha, now Jinx, our cost benefit analysis shows that trying to keep your sorry, ugh, to keep you alive is going to be an extreme financial burden on your grandchildren and the younger segment of our society. I know that you are aware how your generation has already done our young people a terrible disservice by living it up on Social Security and other government-paid-for benefits and leaving them to foot the bill. Do you get my drift, cowboy?”

“Oh yes sir, Mr. Bureaucrat. I remember back in the 1950s when the government used to put out strychnine to poison coyotes. I’ve seen a lot of progress in my time; it’s good to see the government setting their sights on bigger game. But after working for 50 years, I would like to hang around for a few more years and ...”

“Now Jinx, I can understand that this whole thing might be a little upsetting for you, really I can, but if you had taken your flu shot when the community organizer told you to, this might not have happened. Anyway, you old cowboys, well, you shot horses when they broke their legs, didn’t you? Like to put them out of their misery? How is this so different?”

“Well, maybe it ain’t, but I’ve had the flu a few times and I got over it just fine. Besides, I still have a couple of columns I want to write.”

“I’m sure you do, Jinx, but that is another reason why I have been asked to speak to you on this subject. Your columns are just not needed in today’s society. What could you write about that would possibly interest anyone anymore?”

“Interesting you should ask. I was just thinkin’ I might do a little research on the Civil Rights Act of 1957. Seems there was something in there about discrimination against old folks, blacks, women and other minorities. It also just occurred to me that maybe the elderly are not the only drag on society. What about the folks on welfare? My grandkids tell me they don’t mind payin’ for my care near as much as they do those folks who are too lazy to work. Did you ever consider handing out some of your euthanasia counseling down at the welfare office? That would be sort of a new slant to the war on poverty wouldn’t it? You could hand out Kevorkian cocktails at the welfare lines in the morning and be done in time to run over to the soup kitchen in the afternoon and throw hand grenades at the beggars. They are a drain on society aren’t they?

“Of course, Mr. Bureaucrat, then there’s you. I’ll bet you never produced so much as an ear of corn. Why I’ll bet you never produced more than a passel of papers for other foggy-minded death panelists to shuffle around. Tell you what. You leave the rest of us alone, swallow your Kevorkian cocktail and I’ll use your salary to pay my medical bills. We’ll put that up to a vote of the patients here. Wouldn’t that be the democratic thing to do?”

“Jinx, get your hands off me! Help, Nurse! Security, Security!

Como Siempré, Jinx

P.S. If you want to comment on a column, drop an e-mail to Jinx@gitarope.com or stop by Git A Rope Trading Company, 408 W. Main St. in Payson and get your copy of the “Pleasant Valley War” by Jinx Pyle. Git A Rope carries other books by Jinx Pyle and Jayne Peace Pyle along with a varied selection of Southwestern gift items. See you there! Phone 474-0011.


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