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Baltimore IMC

Commentary :: Civil & Human Rights

Why national health insurance is for slaves.

If no one will pay you for working, maybe you can get a government handout instead.

A free man works and pays his way. A slave works, but does not get paid. The master supplies food, shelter and necessities for a slave and makes decisions about how much of those things the slave can have.
Health Insurance and government programs are supposed to be for people who are unable to do for themselves. Elderly, disabled, orphaned. People with horrifying rare diseases that cost more to treat than one person could be expected to earn in a lifetime. The notion that the government can or should provide personal care for everyone is a carrot on a stick.
Repairing the labor system, so people can find work and get paid enough to make a living, is the responsibility of government. Repairing the business system, so individuals can engage in trade and make a living without being eaten alive by corporations and franchises is also the responsibility of government. Repairing the health care system so it doesn’t suck all the money out of the insurance and government programs and leave the landscape littered with the dying husks of its patients is the responsibility of the government. It is the job of government to shape a society in which we can all work and take care of ourselves and our families the way we want.
If government is too weak and lazy to stand up to the greedy and oppressive corporate sector of the land and do its own job, how can we expect it to have any success in taking care of our personal business for us? If government is going to pay off those greedy corporate oppressors, to keep them in business … you know, they’re too big to fail … then how can we expect them to have enough money to provide anything at all for us? Programs like national “health insurance” are only ploys of a failing government to insure its own survival, not mine.
My biggest pet peeve in this life is people who use me badly and then tell me it’s for my own good. Or, as Judge Judy would say, don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.
 
 
 

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