Dad gum bunch a feed grabbin' bums!

I’ve always enjoyed having a conversation with Floyd. He has a certain way of breaking things down, of keeping them real and simple. I guess farming gives him a lot of time to think about things. Recently, I thought I’d ask him about this health care debate. Here’s what he had to say, best as I can recall anyway….

“Well, now, seems ta me them insurance folk would'a solved these problems by now if ‘n they'd a wanted to. Seems to me if’n them insurance folk was interested ‘n competin' with each other, they’d be competin’ ‘stead of carving up the territory and dividin’ it. Seems ta me if’n them insurance folk wanted ta insure all folk, they'd a all ready be doin’ it. Seems ta me "free market" ain't free at ‘tall.” Like I said, Floyd has a way of putting things.

“Every time I hear’d that bunch a feed grabbin' bums yellin' "free market", I know’d they be makin' a whole bunch a money ‘n folks’d be loosing somethin’ like their homes ‘n their jobs. Yep, "free trade" meant jobs a’goin’ over seas ‘n more money fer them fat cats. "Free market" in bankin' turn outta mean you'll be freed from that there mortgage payment ya had.” Floyd took aim and spit in his tobacco can – Pa-tonk! It was a good four feet away, then shook his head for a minute or two.

“Nope. I didn't buy that pig slop when I hear’d it. Bill o’goods, it were! Nope. I'll take Uncle Sam’s insurance. Ya see, no limits, an’ it don’t matter how sick a feller gits neither. An’ they won’t be a’ choppin’ off what they call pre-existin’ condition folk. So what if Uncle Sam is runnin' the show! Works for all them old folks. Why wouldn't it work fer the rest of us hard workin’ folks? Anyone ‘gainst that is’a plum crazy or richer than common folk, fer sure.” Floyd just keep whittling his cherry stick while he talked.

“I'll take freedom from the worry a going broke ‘n loosin’ the farm paying for the doctor. An’ I'll take freedom from loosin' the farm n' having to put up with a turd for a boss cuz maybe the kids er sick or their ma is an’ I need a policy ‘n gotta find work in town fer it. An’ I'll take freedom from rich folk havin' a say in whether me 'n my loved ones live er die. Yep.” Floyd spit in his can again – pa-TONG! He stopped whittling his cherry stick and look out over his fields.

“Ya know, that there constitution gives Uncle Sam the right to protect us from enemies that would kill us an’ that includes health insurance folk. Heard the other day that forty five thousand Americans die a year cuz they don't got no policy. That ain’t right.” Pa-tong – never have seen him miss that can.

“An if ‘n they wanna call me a lib’ril, fine by me. Jesus was a lib’ril, so I thank ‘em. 'lest he was till them folk got ta rewriting the holy book ta make the Lord a conservative. Bible says changin' it's a sin. Son, ya better go tell yer lady yer goin’a be out here a spell now cuz ya got me all worked up ‘bout them bible changin’, good fer nothin’ money grubbers!”

Wouldn’t it be nice if our elected officials had as much sense as Floyd does?