I Attend A Town Hall Health Care Meeting

From Nairobi to Chicago, leaving Hillary to go on to the Democratic (Hah!) Republic of Congo. Good luck with that. In Chicago, I undertook a small task for Sir Harry, who was helping out his American friends -- all five of them. This involved retrieving and dumping about $60 million dollars worth of heroin into Lake Michigan, all neatly wrapped in bags emblazoned with their point of origin, the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. No doubt the number of blow fish will increase....

Having some time to kill before returning to the Manor, I decided to drop in on one of Barack Obama's town hall meetings, set up to explain universal health care to Americans. That evening found me in the wonderful town of Gary, Indiana. The meeting had just started when I slipped in the back. Two harassed congressmen were trying to make a case for revamping the horror story that is American health care, but were continually being shouted down by several people in the audience. Cries such as "Socialism on the march!", "We don't want our health care to be decided by government death panels!" and "It's a Canadian plot to take over our country!" filled the air.

Eventually the congressmen simply gave up, and those citizens who actually wanted to learn something were left none the wiser. As the meeting broke up, I heard several of the group that had caused the disruption say they were meeting across the street at Macy's.

Macy's turned out to be a rather seedy bar around the corner from the community centre where the meeting had been held. Sensing that there was more to all this than met the eye, I headed for Macy's as well. But not before taking precautions.

I wore a red flannel shirt tucked into a pair of Levis, and had on some rather scuffed boots (I had done the scuffing earlier in the day, sensing that Gucci would not be well received in this part of Gary). Before entering the bar, I fastened two buttons to my shirt. Over my left breast, I placed a button for the National Rifle Association; on the left, one in bold letters saying 'Truckers For Christ'. Sir Harry always was keen on an operative melding into a particular environment.

As I made my way forward, I was aware of several appreciative glances, and I had not been at the bar for ten seconds before one of the men had offered to buy. Seeing that all were Budweiser fans, I made a sacrifice and had the same. (We are a long way away from Laphroaig or Grey Goose). And then I listened.

They apparently could only stay in the bar for about an hour, because the bus that had brought them was set to leave at that time. All were delighted to be in Gary, and they were off to another town hall the next day, Des Moines, I think. What delighted them was the fact that not only were they receiving a small cash stipend to disrupt these meetings, they were also going to get deep discounts on any pharmaceutical drugs they might purchase, for the next three years. The bus and driver, you see, were paid for by a cartel of drug companies.

At this point I left the bar, headed for the rest room, and suddenly, and very violently, vomited. I had realized that the battle to give Americans a decent health care plan was not an uphill one, but more one that involved climbing a mountain akin to the Eiger.

But Obama knows this. Or so one must hope.