Sunday, October 20, 2013

obamacare, the city on seven million hills

Rome wasn't built in a day. It took 25 hours.


Actually, this sprawling, ancient Gotham, birthplace to Caesar and Da Vinci and Sinatra, was 750 years in the making and is a textbook example of a “work-in-progress.”


Speaking of ObamaCare.


Admittedly, there is no bigger fan than me of the much debated, litigated, legislated and re-litigated insurance industry reform bill passed by the current administration. If you weren't already sick to death of partisan bickering before hearing all the hoo-hah and hosannas about the sky falling from Republicans, you certainly are by now. Good thing pre-existing conditions won't exclude you from coverage.


So, yes my dears. As the early adopter that I am, I found myself marching to healthcare.gov on the first day of open enrollment only to find an error message telling me in unceremonious tones to come back later, no room at the inn.


Enduring a long history with Facebook and Twitter, I have built up an acceptance for the things I cannot control; refusal of service I believe it is commonly referred to.


I made a mental note to revisit the site at some other more opportune time and grab a drink in the interim to wait it out like any other sensible person.


Three weeks later, I'm still drinking.


Not that I've given up hope (or Change for that matter) but after four separate visits to the site I am still unable to even create an account let alone view specific plans or policies. Granted, I have been able to view preliminary rates and subsidies based on my household income and have to admit the pricing is extremely competitive, less than half what I currently pay.


With 7 million people still to register in the next six months, something akin to Noah loading the ark when it starts to sprinkle, I am cautiously optimistic that the internet gremlins and web snafus will dissipate with the autumn only to bear fruit in the spring.



If not, the next sound you hear may be violins playing while Rome burns.

Monday, June 3, 2013

boom.

If contractions were blog posts mine would be spaced eight months apart; not so much pregnant pauses as false labor.

I'm afraid it may take a shot of whiskey, clean towels, a midwife and forceps to pull out the next entry.

This is not due to a lack of material. Just the opposite.

What with Twitter and Facebook and Reddit and Friendster and MySpace -- scratch those last two -- I am overwhelmed by the opportunities to get my point across on multiple platforms. In the old days there was one soap box, now there are twelve.

Certainly you can see right through this ruse about writing about writing. I am merely marking time, dog-paddling, creating a digital placeholder to give the illusion that I am actually contributing something, anything, to my literary canon.

It is all smoke.