The Vampire State

Dear Dr. Bones,


It is always at least a small pleasure to find that our coarse and illiterate province has been taken notice of by the Great World.

Representin' the GW this morning, is that distinguished Freelord an’ Kiddiemaster in the neopeerage of Foxcuckooland who signs his checks an' other scribbles as "Walter Russell Meade." Not to be confused with James Russell Lowell is he, though perhaps his freelordship would not mind an occasional slip-up too much.

Unfortunately, WRM is not really interested in our MA except as portendin' Doom for Uncle Sam. His freelordship labels this (non-check) scribble "Health Care in MA Is Bad Omen for Obamacare."

Pausing to savor the kiddiemagisterial headline, Paddy and Eye agreed that a really alarming piece might be composed to accompany it, one, that is, that would make Massachusetts out (not an Empire State, but) "The Vampire State," healthy enough ourselves indeed, but healthy only by sucking the blood and pelf out of the hapless hides of NY and NJ and AZ and AK (&c. &c. ) And this case can be fadged up by a competent rhetor without too much difficulty.

And also without total implausibility. One of Walter Russell Meade's Classmates used to broadcast that "What is good for General Motors is good for the United States." Strike "General Motors" and insert "Massachusetts General Hospital," and ¡there you are! Or almost there, because you do have to assume further that when a Classmate starts goin’ on in that vein, what her freeladyship really has in mind would be more accurately expressed "What is best for the US of A is bound to even better for ScroogeBank." Or for Warbucks Defense Widget Ltd. For whatever noble Corporate Citizenness happens to be nearest an' dearest to the particular Classmate.

Now the thing is, Dr. Bones, that nobody quotes the late SECWAR’s original formulation who does not take for granted that it was GM that came first an’ foremost with Massa Charlie Wilson. Probably "nobody" is not literally correct, there's a couple of oddballs nesting in almost every tree, but to utter WIG4GMIG4US (let’s abbreviate it) and mean it strictly at face value, to sincerely and significantly take the view that Uncle Sam just happens to be so constituted that the happiness of murder-vehicle manufacturers is more critical to our collective well-being than any other single factor . . . to think that, Eye says, one would pretty well have to be a Martian. [1]

From there it is easy sailing, and requires no more whight-wing malignance than one meets with every day in the op-ed columns of The Wall Street Jingoe: simply have some Classmate's idiot niece or nephew work through the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act of 2010 lookin' for Jingoe-quality ‘proof’ that the whole obamanation must have been hatched in order to line the pockets of Mass General and H*rv*rd and (optionally) Massachusetts generally. Also optional, but lots of fun, would be to insinuate darkly (ahem) that Barák Husâyn O’Bàma (¡ugh! ¡¡Ugh!! ¡¡UGH!!!) looks forward to spending the next hundred years or so as Chairman and CEO of H*rv*rd Vulture Healthcare Partners, or whatever more seemly name the MGH/HU/MA racket assumes in public. [2]




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[1] We would digress too far, I think, to worry about whether this Martian analysis might not be correct, for all that no earthling could ever come up with it disinterestedly. For purposes of hooting at Freelord Meade, it seems safe enough to assume that WIG4__IG4USA NEVER passes the ¿Cui bono? test, fill in the blank in the acronym how you please.


[2] Even if you think today’s pscenario as silly as most of the others, sir, there is at least a small benefit here in noticing that whightist vituperation of the POTUS of us all seems never to run to anything like we just did, accusin’ BHO of crudely being on the make the same way a freelordly Baincapper is naturally expected to be on the make.

The closest the Party neocomrades at any level of the Great Chain of Buying, from Dr. Limbaugh an' below all the way up to the stratosphere where Walter Russel Meade wings it blithely, come to it is complainin', once in a very long while, that the President has made far too many bucks off those autobiographies he had Comrade Ayres write for him. Of plans to get filthyrich personally after he leaves office, there is no sign at all that we have noticed.

I guess the selfservative kiddies, an' their Kiddiemasters, an' their Freelords, must all take utterly for granted that the fiend is moved by impeccably fiendish motives, by what St. Jack of Narnia somewhere called "the innate and, as it were, disinterested hatred of Darkness for Light." Either the Party neocomrades believe that, or they believe some damnfool psychobabble about the Kenchurian Kandidate's Mau-Mau daddy, which amounts to the same thing in practice. Either way, BHO, as kiddiecons conceive him, is utterly out of step with normality an’ whighteousness. These, as we know, consist above all in lookin' out for Number One.

like a rational critter.