Best in the World

This is what I don't understand. We've got the greatest country in the world - make that the history of the world - and some people still aren't satisfied. Because not everybody is exactly equal. Because some people are poor. Because not everybody can afford everything. Because ... I don't know. And now we have this new President who panders to that kind of thinking. Well, we can't afford to make everyone "whole," and not everything is a goddamn right, you know.

So, I'm talking to my wife, who should know better, but has this soft spot for losers.

"The system is broken," she says.

"Broken?" I scoff. "Why, it's the best system in the world! Everyone else in the world would die to have a system like ours."

"Not everyone agrees with that," she says carefully.

"Then they're full of crap," I reply simply.

"But think of the thousands of people who aren't covered," she said.

"But we're covered," I say in my most conciliatory tone. "That's the important thing."

She frowns. "It keeps getting more and more expensive," she pouts, "and other countries manage to protect everyone."

"Don't go there!" I caution. "That's socialism, that is!"

"Is it?" she counters. "I don't know what socialism is. Do you?" She really has a mouth sometimes.

"Of course, I know what socialism is!" I retort. "It's bad, that's what it is! It means the government runs everything, and there's no private business, and nobody makes any money."

She does a bit of an eyebrow cock. "Well, if business can't or won't protect us, maybe it's time to give 'socialism' a try. Isn't that government's job, anyway?"

"Of course, it isn't!" I scream. I swear, she wasn't this obtuse when we got married. "Government is supposed to make war on bad guys and protect the market so it can do its magic. That's it! Anyway, everyone knows that government is bureaucratic and inefficient and can't do anything right."

"In that case," quibbles my wife, "you should be in favor of the President's 'public option' plan that lets the government compete with private industry."

"Of course, I'm not in favor of that!" I cry. "It wouldn't be fair!"

"But if the government is bureaucratic and inefficient and can't do anything right, ..." she begins.

"You're twisting my words!" I object.

"Not really." She does the eyebrow-cocking thing again.

"Have you seen the analysis of the President's nitwit plan?" I ask, trying a new tack. "It's complex beyond belief. And expensive! How are we supposed to afford that?"

"Well, for one thing," she replies, "the plan you call 'socialist' is not complicated and would likely be less expensive than what we have now."

"No way," I insist. "Not only am I unalterably opposed to anything socialist, but many of the President's own party have declared that option off the table."

"That's a real shame," she says, "because we must fix this. If we don't, we will all go down together."

"That sounds a bit gloomy for you," I observe.

"Nevertheless," she persists, "the current system is doomed, one way or another, and the Inner Tube Industry be damned."

"Be careful how you speak of the Inner Tube Industry!" I gasp, but she continues.

"Inner tubes aren't going to cut it this time," she says, "no matter how fancy and expensive they make them. What we need is ..."

"Don't say it! Don't say it!" I warn."It's socialism, I tell you! I'm not listening!"

I stick my fingers in my ears and chant, "La, la, la, la, la, la, la!" But I can still hear her say, "... boats. Big ones. Great big boats that can carry everyone."

"How dare you!" I scream. She has finally made me lose my temper. "Inner tubes have floated this great nation of Atlantis since its inception, and ..."

Excuse me a moment. There seems to be a bit of water coming in under the door.