Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" We like to examine our culture in search of life-threatening organisms! Like this one, the infamous "strep." Why the heck did Noah take THAT one on the ark?
Anne's dear daughter, The Heir, suffers from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
You know the condition. The victim is so obsessed with germs and sickness that he or she washes compulsively, walks around with a thermometer stuck in his or her mouth, slathers everything with anti-bacterial gels, and avoids situations where sick people might be. Even fun places, like raves.
Just an aside: An uninsured OCD patient can expect to spend $319.00 a month on the medication used to treat the disorder.
But we digress.
A helpful mother is going to read up on this condition in order to understand it better. And that helpful mother is going to learn that even normal people have a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder.
It's natural to shun anything that might make you sick. The avoidance of filth and pestilence, and the recognition thereof, is seen as a positive genetic mutation, one that enabled the human race to grow and expand.
Okay. It's normal to want to avoid strep like the plague. It's not normal to spend your entire day thinking about getting strep. Subtle difference.
Perhaps the following would never have occurred to Anne the goat judge if she didn't have a daughter with OCD. But think about it a minute.
Businesses that offer health coverage to employees and their families will be cleaner environments in which to shop.
Businesses that provide inadequate or no health coverage to employees and their families will have germy goods on the shelves. Why? Because those shelves are stocked by sick people. Their hands touch everything.
Ponder this, reader, the next time you rush into Wal-Mart for a cake mix.
Now Wal-Mart's gonna sue me, say they do offer health coverage to some of their workers. Part-timers? Naaah. And how about the families of those workers? Naaaah.
So Lisa Jones, Wal-Mart "associate," spoon-feeds her cranky, feverish, uninsured tot and then comes to work. She's assigned the task of stocking the toy section with 372 brand new "My Scene" dolls, made by generally unhealthy Asian workers in sweatshop conditions.
Who wants a "Stella Strep," the newest "My Scene" doll created just for Wal-Mart?
And I hope to kiss a duck before I'd touch their pork chops.
"So," holler you slash-domestic-spending conservatives, "where do you shop, Madame Liberal?"
I buy my groceries at Acme (union). I buy my hardware at Eastmont Hardware (mom & pop). I buy my clothing at thrift stores, bring it home and wash it first thing. For everything else, there's always a slightly more expensive store that treats its workers better.
Sadly, Anne knows that many rural communities now must depend entirely upon the local Wal-Mart for their shopping needs. Take heart, America! That which does not kill you will only make you stronger!
If you come home from Wal-Mart with germ-infested merchandise, and you get sick, well, you have two possibilities. If you live, your immune system's had its workout and is rocking on. If you die, who cares anyway? Certainly not the owners of Wal-Mart.
You know what's lying on its deathbed right now? The union movement. Let's give that essential component of free market enterprise an antibiotic drip, electrolytes, and lessons on the languages of all nations.
United we bargain.
Divided we beg.
Remember that on Black Friday, when you go to Wal-Mart for plastic Santas and tinsel, and come home with scarlet fever.
SOWING THE GERMS OF A RADICAL UNION RESURGENCE