Forget about death panels. The first question you will be asked now when you enter the hospital will be; "Are you registered to vote?" The United States of America is now officially a one party system. Your life depends on being registered to vote.

What's that going to be like? Let me tell you a little story...

The year was 1973. I had just gotten off work on a Friday night...payday. My wallet was loaded. I was driving along casually pacing traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway when, suddenly, I see out my passenger side window a car spinning out of control and passing me going sideways. I had only an instant to react. I slammed on my brakes hoping she would skid past me.

No such luck. She slammed me off the road and into the fence that guards the el tracks. Fortunately I was wearing my seat belt. But in those days it was only a lap belt. My face hit the steering wheel knocking out two teeth and splitting my lip open to my nose.

An ambulance soon came and hauled me to the local community hospital and left me sitting in the emergency room. As I waited I spotted only one other "customer", a 7 year old black child sitting with his mother. He appeared to have a sniffle of some sort. Possibly a fever. And we waited.

As I waited I noticed a sign on the wall. It said:

   Patients will be taken in the following order:

      Medicaid card holders

      Insurance card holders

      Cash

That's a fact.

As we sat the police came in, dragging with them a man in handcuffs bleeding from a knife slash across his belly. The boy with the sniffles got bypassed. I don't know what kind of insurance the street thug had but police business must have trumped the entire priority list.

After I had been there about an hour and a half the boy got called for treatment. I was pissed, of course, because I was seriously injured. I was doing by best to bleed all over their floor to make that point. But to no avail. Government priorities were not to be pre-empted by a simple matter of triage.

At about this time my sister showed up to sit with me as I waited and to take me home since my car was totaled. Another hour passed...an hour of bleeding and having to look at that damned sign. She saw the sign too, of course, and after we'd had our fair share of abuse in the government health care system we took off to find a private hospital.

We soon arrived at St. Francis Hospital in Blue Island and I was treated immediately. To my great good fortune an excellent plastic surgeon was on duty and sewed me up like a wedding gift. Had I stayed at the community butcher shop I'd be a hair lip today. I'm certain of it.

So there it is. A sketch of my past and your future. You see, all health care will now be government health care.

We are in the shitter for sure, my friends.

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