Texas Drifter: Part VI Private Sector Dark Side Obama Care
Marshall’s Law Dateline – Part VI Private Sector Dark Side Obama Care: Lost Good Years.
“Lost Good Years” follows, settle back reader good non-fiction story requires details.
Prologue: Daymares, nightmares, either or both offer relief from conscious memories; especially for people whose fate does not include making it to the promise land. Some know my meaning, bad days get worse; rare good days turn to ... If life were fair, there would be no addicts, sinners, or lost good years.
The assignment seemed simple enough; line up ducks for a two vehicle multiple fatality traffic accident. For this case putting ducks in a row included
1. Photograph, diagram, measure accident scene;
2. Photograph and check out vehicles, purchase both wrecks if possible and place in locked storage;
3. Interview witnesses and survivors, no survivors in this case;
4. Pick up copies of all records, documents, and news reports;
5. Conduct necessary background checks;
6. Pursue other related leads.
My original reason for entering any investigation area after dark has long been forgotten. Perhaps one learns about the character of a community by the quality of its night people.
It was almost two forty five in the morning when I headed for a vacant corner booth near a side door in the South Texas used to be franchise fast food restaurant. The word restaurant should be in quotations.
After ordering the breakfast special, I headed to the washroom. What first caught my attention was an illegal immigrant using water base paint to cover up blood spatter and pellet holes above and all around plywood covering a hole in the floor where a toilet used to sit.
In an almost satirical way, number four shot outlined the area where the toilet's last patron sat. As for the illegal, he just smiled and said I know nothing.
This investigator was almost tempted after washing up to ask the illegal colonist if he knew anything about trading oil base paint for water base paint with a refund.
Oh well, not my investigation; hope that's not the cook's profile on the wall.
As for my waitress, she probably looked vigorous about ten years ago when she was in her teens. Who cares as long as the service is almost good?
Experience tells me that the waitress's worn out too soon body has a better heart than chamber of commerce strumpets that marry for money.
Unfortunately, most of both do not know the difference between a lightning bug and a shooting star.
While returning to my booth, I started scanning premise patrons. After sitting in my northwest corner booth, the layout from right to left was as follows:
Corner booth directly across room, sat a chamber of commerce suit with his boy toy engaged in an unhappy animated conversation I am glad I could not hear.
Skipping two booths along the wall were three stoned high “students”. One probably a drop out with his friendly sixteen year old girl friend; both scheming to ignore their awkward out of place friend who just happened to be their ride.
Moving down the center isle of booths was a thirty looking forty year old bar prostitute working her sixty old client. The woman had probably been warned by some social worker or cop about leaving her kids alone as she had them with her while working.
Her twelve year old boy must not have liked watching his mother work as he kept getting up and getting unnecessary refills. The small for her age ten year old girl who was already wearing makeup and dressing like her mother constantly watched and listened for every sound and move he mother was making.
All the while the old man was oblivious to the kids and was getting the most for his investment.
Skip a booth and their were two way overweight not cheaply dressed women talking disparagingly about the ugly skinny strumpets in the last bar they worked that kept them from going home with their true loves.
Skip one booth and directly to my left were two middle age over weight soccer dads wearing youth baseball coach uniforms. Both of their conversations were directed towards people who weren't even at their booth.
One kept trying to sell the other on investing is some get rich insurance scheme; while the other kept whining about the politics of being chosen a youth baseball all stars coach.
As for me, I was still waiting for the waitress to bring syrup instead of ketchup for my waffles.
Glancing into the parking lot, I noticed a druggie putting a small revolver in his jacket while positioning a looked to be stolen bicycle. My first thought was maybe he will get nervous, loose his nerve or at least wait until I've finish breakfast and leave; before he starts some ill fated robbery.
Amazing luck, shortly after the potential robber stepped inside; two missionary girls came in and started offering to save souls for donations.
Eventually I got my syrup, finished, and left. Perhaps I should have tipped the missionary as she kept the bicycle robber occupied till I left for a less entertaining hotel room.
It took almost two days to line up ducks one, two, and four.
You the reader can review the first paragraph of this memory to remember what I'm referring too.
Moving on, I was now ready to contact the case's only witness. The driver behind the driver who failed to yield the right of way that apparently caused the accident.
The witness's words were clear and concise: The old man pulled up to the stop sign, and came to a complete stop. He looked left; then turned and looked to the right. He was looking straight at the on coming van when he pulled right out in front of them. It was almost like it he didn't see the van's lights. I'll never forget how time slowed as the van exploded when it hit that old man.
Next came the horrible smell of burning screaming victims. It all happened at once so there was no way I could help.
The witness voluntarily allowed me to notarize his statement; a declaration that subtlety raised the question; did the old man commit suicide?
My next stop would be with the old man's preferably best friend or at least those who could or would talk about the old man's mental condition.
Some investigators never learn the easiest way to find out what witnesses know is to keep quiet and let them ramble. The old driver's best friend proved to be a career-remembering spectator.
That six foot stringy weathered decaying man appeared to have seen too much truth for anybody's short ninety years. His hands looked like they had spent a lifetime partnership with sailing ships or cattle ranches.
Still this individual did not need to be gruff as his appearance suggested he could be leaning up against a bar with a beer in one hand, and resolve problems without spilling a drop of his hard earned beer.
I informed the old driver's best friend that I was not trying to prove suicide, only figure out what happened.
The measuring response by my career-remembering spectator: You don't know much about being old in America do you? I know you don't; so no need to answer.
I have a lot to recall would you like a cold beverage?
Without hesitating the old driver's best friend continued. Sarita bring my guest and your boss two tall Crown on the rocks.
Sweet Sarita, there's a story you would probably find more interesting. She needs a place to live, and I need someone to drive me around the ranch; so we both tolerate each other.
Forty years ago I could have fallen in love with a woman like Sarita, just never had the time or money. Now I have the money there's not enough time.
My worthless family has started pretending to be nice hoping that I will leave them the ranch and cash reserves. Those virtual ethical ant people are sure going to be surprised upon learning that Sarita won my death's lottery.
Don't reveal my secret, Sarita does not know and I want to claim the last good turn in our relationship.
Now for your reason for being here, the old driver as you call him was not suicidal case closed. Let tell you about his living experiences.
That old driver worked for the same company for twenty - nine years eleven months and nineteen days before being down sized for out sourcing that meant he fell eleven days short of a full pension.
Next came news, some corporate cartel had gotten involved in some RINO type scheme and lost all of the old driver's retirement savings and investments.
Bad news often travels in packs, as his wife's lost her health insurance because her predisposition to breast cancer raised her employer's benefit package premiums above “Obama care” benefit limits.
The wife while under going tests at a local hospital suffered an infection caused by improperly sterilized medical equipment. Medical centers generated infections have become one of the greatest threats to older Americans needing medical attention.
After totally destroying his wife's long-term health, the hospital evicted the old driver from a home he and his wife had lived in for almost sixty years. Why, in lieu of paying hospital bills incurred as a result of his wife's hospital induced infection.
Next the old driver learned that the only way to qualify for nursing home care for his wife who would soon be in a coma was to sell his and his wife's wedding rings which had over sixty years appreciated in value beyond the government's minimum assets limits.
It broke that old driver's heart to learn following about the rings he had given his bride on the best day of his life. Sometime during that night the old driver's wife slipped into a coma, after Obama’s Medicare workers using "garden shears" to amputate her fingers to remove wedding rings from her swollen finger.
His suffering never seem to end as the old driver had to find part time work to buy prescription medicines to keep his wife's unconscious state pain free.
Sarita, two more: tall Crowns on ice, for my guest and your boss.
It was Republican Party policies that Obama expedited to force old people into poverty that causes some of us citizens to not think highly of Republicans.
The problem with Republicans is that they have never learned that with power comes accountability. The political party that controls executive, legislative, and judicial branches of government at the same time is solely responsible for bad government policies.
Have you ever seen movies where Nazi prison guards rip wedding rings and family heirlooms away from old women waiting to be shipped to concentration camps? Don't answer. I know you have.
What is the difference in that, and American polices which force old people to sell their rings, heirlooms, mementos, and give the proceeds to government before being eligible for health care?
Best I can tell the only difference is American politicians with thieving personalities do no have the courage to wear the uniforms.
Do you know why I quit voting for Republicans after seventy years; don't try to answer, you cannot possibly know. The Republican Party has been hijacked by soul less groups motivated by unethical capitalism.
Dishonest capitalism always evolves into corporate feudalism, a polite phrase for special interest fascism. Republican leadership has become the evil socialists they used to hate.
Old men nearing the end of their lives can say what they like: truth be known, it is doubtful that leaders of either the Republican or Democratic Party are worthy of being buried in American soil.
Back to something you can use, what caused the old driver to see and not register on coming traffic. Background: companies do not offer full time jobs with benefits to men over fifty-five. Republicans will say this is not true, but they are generally the ones not offering these jobs to blue or white-collar private sector middle class men.
The only available jobs for older American men are: part time, minimum wage, no benefits, in hazardous work environments, with competition from illegal criminal immigrants.
Aristocratic ruling class Republicans also callled RINOs, have betrayed America's middle class by providing public sector full coverage no cost health benefits to illegal colonists. Additionally ignoring foreign laborers working for less than minimum wage essentially excludes American's retired from part time employment markets.
Government itself is guilty of promoting poverty to make people dependent on government. Six dollars an hour after government deductions barely nets the worker five dollars an hour. A thirty hour a week part time job nets the older worker slightly more than one hundred dollars a week; not enough to cover supplemental health insurance premiums.
As for hazardous working environments, this is the good part. Companies know that hiring old men with pre-existing age created health conditions reduces civil exposure to hazardous working environments.
German people in the 1930’s and 1940’s had to fear both Stalin’s communists and Hitler’s Nazi’s; what is different for America’s middle class in contemporary times having to deal with Marxist-fascist Progressive Democrats and Republican aristocratic ruling elites also called RINOs?
Back on topic, I'll guess the old driver's autopsy showed no signs of alcohol, drugs, or prescription medications.
The old driver worked part time cleaning concrete by spraying chemicals with warning labels that advised the chemicals only be applied when wearing protective clothing and using self contained breathing respirators.
Unfortunately the old driver's employer stored chemicals in open containers in high temperature work environments and provided no safety equipment. Chemicals you need to be testing the old man's blood, tissues, and brain for are: phosphoric acid, sulfuric acid, hydrofluoric acid, and mercury.
I don't know what the mercury was for, but I do know the old driver told me that these chemicals were only deleted with twenty percent water when being applied.
The old driver also told me that the chemicals were giving him severe head and muscle aches along with black outs. To answer your last question, he had to keep working to buy his wife's painkillers for her unconscious state.
It is time for Sarita to drive me around the ranch. Sarita bring me the five-gallon bucket in the plastic bag you are never allowed to touch for my guest and your boss.
The old driver brought me the bucket after it was thrown in the trash at one of his car wash job sites.
Let me wrap this up while we are waiting for Sarita: life includes unjust irony. What would you call it when the generation that survived the Great Depression, won World War II, rebuilt Europe and Asia, put men on the moon, won the Cold War without blowing up the planet, and produced the wealthiest republic in history; would be robbed into poverty and abandoned to nursing homes by the benefactors of their generation's successes. Think about it, when you have not been enjoying Sarita’s tall Crown on the rocks.
The entire time I was thanking the old driver's best friend for his time and help; I didn't know if I was more grateful for the information, or that is was time for Sarita to take the spectator for his ride. Being honest, don't think I could have held up to another tall Crown on rocks.
Some more ducks to line up:
1) Order additional chemical residue tests on old driver;
2) Surveillance footage of identical chemical container being dumped in trash by company employee and get another bucket from garbage truck driver;
3) File report and ship evidence to client; and
4) Other activities as needed.
This case memory is not quite over. I am not especially superstitious, but I always enjoy listening to my favorite Emerald Starr tape in route to my next assignment.
A fed looking SUV with grill flashers pulled me over just past the city limits marker. Not wanting to get jammed in my vehicle, I immediately stepped out with my micro cassette recording; and my concealed carry in place.
I recognized the driver from my first stop in town. He asked if I were the investigator working the multiple fatality accident. He was politely told that who, I worked for was none of his business.
This concerned community leader demanded I give him the five- gallon bucket I had gotten from the garbage man.
The RINO was informed that I paid cash for the bucket and that all sales are final. Plus I couldn't turn over the bucket if I wanted too, since it had already been air expressed to its new owner.
Changing the direction of the conversation, I notified the Republican aristocrat that I wanted to thank him for lining up my last duck, "I would not have known you knew how bad the risks were until you made an issue over one empty plastic bucket."
Typical response, He said that he had broken no criminal laws or had any civil liability exposure.
Felt I was taking control of interview, and decided to do a little demoralizing: I have heard, that right before people die their life flashes before their eyes.
I continued, "Also been told that right before good people die, their best hopes and best memories flash before their eyes; however, when it comes to bad people, it is their greatest fears and most horrible memories that flash before their eyes."
Added, "Guess the questions you need to answer are; if your chemicals affected the old driver's reflexes, does that make you one of the bad guys? If the old driver lost good years because of the way you manage your employees, does that make you one of the bad guys? Sure don't need to know what flashes before your eyes before your one way trip to Hades."
Not much else to say, I got back in my vehicle and left. Really did not care one way or the other, whether my next assignment was a simple one vehicle fatality case or not. Being honest, was thinking about stopping off to see if Sarita’s boss would let her, tell me how she makes those tall Crown on the rocks?
End non-fiction short story "Lost Good Years" about private sector dark side of Obama care which also benefits Republican ruling class aristocrats like (reader's assignment list).
