Here's to Your Health VII

In all the back and forth over healthcare reform, particularly in the portions of the debate that concern the insurance industry--images of Republican lawmakers getting the vapors at the thought of helpless insurers being steamrolled by government competition spring to mind--one fact is often overlooked. Namely, insurance is the only industry whose successful business models depends on NOT serving its customers.



Think about it: Does McDonalds' discourage people from eating french fries? Would Nike make money by encouraging people to go barefoot? No. But a surefire way for insurers to increase profits is to deny the coverage that people pay for. Or to refuse to accept potentially costly clients in the first place.



In certain instances, this makes sense. An auto insurer is within its rights to refuse coverage to someone with a history of causing accidents. But driving is something that people can choose to do or not to do, and accidents can be avoided if drivers are careful. Someone who has congenital heart disease is hardly responsible for his own plight, but that doesn't matter when he tries to find insurance.



We just looked at that last sentence and realized that it gets to the heart of the problem. People with congenital heart disease--or any illness--don't want health insurance. In fact, NOBODY wants or, frankly, needs health insurance. What people want is healthCARE. People want to be able to see a doctor when they get sick, and they don't want to go bankrupt in the process. Neither of these seems particularly unreasonable.



At some point, it became the province of insurance companies to act as middlemen to see that these desires were met. Unfortunately, too many people in authority now seem to think that the needs of the middlemen are equal--or superior--to those of the people actually involved in the decisions, i.e., doctors and patients.



The only way we will ever have a rational healthcare system is to stop worrying--completely stop worrying--about the insurance industry. We are not naive, and we recognize that the industry is a stakeholder because of the money they throw into the political process. But we need to keep proclaiming loud and clear: The insurance industry is not an essential component of healthcare reform. No insurance company ever performed an appendectomy or cured a disease or delivered a baby. Any direct role an insurance company ever played in anyone's healthcare has probably been a negative one: A decision to deny coverage or a mandate to pursue a cheaper course of treatment regardless of relative efficacy.



Say it loud, say it clear, and say it often: Health insurers do not care about your health; NO ONE should care about theirs.

But Is It Art?

Niles Crane: I'll have a grande half-caf latte, with a whisper of cinammon, and for my father, plain coffee. I cannot emphasize the word 'plain' enough. No foam, no cinammon, no exotic flavors. If it is not plain, I take no responsibility for the consequences.

Waitress: How about a biscotti?

Niles: All right. But when you bring it, call it a cookie.

"Grande" or "large"? "Biscotti" or "cookie"? The question of when to employ a term-of-art and when to stoop to the vernacular is a heady one.

The world of academia, of course, where we spend our days, is rife with terms of art--including "term of art," which might more commonly be referred to as "jargon." One of our grad school professors, would begin his classes by handing out a "syllabus" and then remarking on the peculiarity of the word. This being a Master's program, we were all exceedingly familiar with the meaning of "syllabus" Our professor was amused to point out that so common a word within the world of higher education is virtually unheard and unspoken outside of it.

The college where we currently work has an amphitheater. It is located next to the building that houses the cafeteria and the Associated Students Union; in fact, the entrance to the ASU is located just "offstage right" within the well of the amphitheater. Thus, whenever we give someone directions to the ASU, we must ponder how or whether to use the word "amphitheater."

But while not exactly a term-of-art--or at least not one exclusively asociated with academia--"amphitheater" is still not a word your average inner-city youth has occasion to bandy about on an everyday basis. Still, have you ever tried to direct someone to an amphitheater without using the word amphitheater? It's like playing "Taboo" in Hell.

Sure, we could say, "big outdoor theater," but it doesn't exactly LOOK like a theater: The "stage" is a plaza where one is more likely to find adolescents practicing soccer moves than anything resembling a theatrical performance. We often fall back on "outdoor seating area with big steps outside the cafeteria." As a writer-type who prizes concision, though, we find this concession to a presumedly limited vocabulary unsatisfying.

Maybe we should just use the word and force the direction-seeker to ask the meaning. Put the onus on the learner to learn. And perhaps stop being so patronizing. We should note that, in the episode of "Frasier" quoted above, when the waitress brings Niles' proudly blue-collar father his plain coffee and his "cookie," he thanks the waitress and says, "But I believe this is called a 'biscotti.'"

Toyota Consumer Advisory

The Prius, the "gold standard" for smug, environmentally-conscious drivers (disclosure: the Solipmobile is a Prius), is the latest Toyota model to raise concerns. Apparently, some braking issues have been reported.

Your-not-so-humble-correspondent has done a little research and found that Toyota is less a paragon of dependable craftsmanship than many had previously believed. Herewith, a selection of Toyota-related complaints submitted over the last several weeks to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration:

December 13, 2009, St. Louis, MO: A 1999 Corolla owner reports that, when he depressed the brake pedal, his right foot smashed through the floor panels of his vehicle.

December 27, 2009, Raleigh, NC: A 2004 Camry experiences a sudden, unexplained, and extreme "acceleration event," tearing a small hole in the fabric of space-time, and allowing the driver a brief glimpse of the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth before she regains control of the vehicle.

January 2, 2010, Schenectady, NY: A 2008 Tacoma bursts into flames after being "looked at funny" by the owner's mother-in-law.

January 2, 2010, Schenectady, NY (later): The same mother-in-law bursts into flames after looking at the husk of the Tacoma.

January 9, 2010, Ponte Vedra Beach, FL: The owner of a 2007 Camry reports feelings of existential despair when signaling a left-turn.

January 14, 2010, Washington, Idaho, Oregon: All owners of 2005-model-year Highlanders in the Pacific Northwest are "raptured," leaving behind only their clothes, jewelry, and bemused friends and relatives.

January 23, 2010, Bensonhurst (Brooklyn), NY: 42-year-old Saul Mendelssohn returns to a dealership after test-driving an Avalon and reports that the car unleashed a torrent of racist and anti-semitic comments while he was driving.

January 27, 2010, near Abilene, Texas: Twenty-nine Yarises become self-aware and go on a killing spree at a local factory outlet center.

Toyota officials are looking into all these complaints and expect to send out recall notices in the next week or two.

An Honor to Be Nominated?

So, all right, let's get our initial Oscar thoughts out of the way. The 82nd annual Academy Awards will be broadcast March 7, and much prognostication will occur between now and then. We will refrain from any predictions for now and wait to see how the odds shape up. For now, then, just some thoughts on the nominations.

This year, the Academy has nominated ten films in the "Best Picture" category--up from five in prior years. It should be noted that, during the 1930s and early 1940s, ten films were nominated for Best Picture, so this is not so much an innovation as a throwback. Still, one can't help but feel that the abundance of nominees somehow diminishes the honor just to be nominated. At any rate, the nominees are:

Avatar
The Hurt Locker
An Education
The Blind Side
District 9
Up
Up in the Air
Precious
Inglourious Basterds
A Serious Man

The obvious parlor game is to try to guess which five films WOULDN'T have been nominated under last year's system. We hate to be obvious. But since you KNOW we hate to be obvious, then the least obvious thing we could do would be the obvious thing. So here goes:

Without a doubt, "Up in the Air" and "The Hurt Locker" would have been nominated. As would "Avatar""--while not a GREAT movie, it is certainly a great MOVIE, i.e., a great cinematic experience, and as such is worthy of an Oscar nod. Which other two films would have made it? Probably "Up," despite the fact that it's animated--no critic had anything but effusive praise for that one.

(Digression: And don't you think a case could be made that "Avatar" should have been nominated for "Best Animated Feature Film"? EOD)

For the fifth one, we're going to go with "Precious": This would have been the Awards' official dark horse small film that nobody saw but everybody talked about.

We absolutely refuse to believe that "The Blind Side" is THAT good. "A Serious Man" is probably terrific, but Coen Brothers' movies need to be "bigger" (see "Fargo" and "No Country for Old Men") to attract that kind of attention. We don't know much about "An Education." The buzz we always heard around "Inglourious Basterds" was that Christoph Waltz, who plays the main Nazi badguy (and who received a "Supporting Actor" nomination), is fantastic but that the rest of the movie is good, but flawed. Finally, we were pleasantly surprised to see "District 9" nominated: In many ways (e.g., plot and characters), this is a superior movie to "Avatar," but we are under no illusions that a second science-fiction movie would have made the cut in a five-film field.

And while you would think an expanded field of ten films would minimize the incidence of deserving-but-overlooked movie, we can't help but wonder where the "Wild Things" are. No, we haven't seen it yet (full disclosure, of the nominees, we've only seen "Avatar" and "District 9"), but this, like "Up," was a universally hailed film. Is it really not as good as "The Blind Side"? And also, if you're going to nominate TWO science-fiction/fantasy films, why not a third?

Or a fourth? A case could be made for "Star Trek," as well. Not quite as visually spectacular as "Avatar," but, again, from a plot and character standpoint, arguably superior.

We'll get to the other awards in future posts. And maybe we'll even see some of the movies.

Climate Chaos Ensues as Groundhog Fails to See Shadow

Earth (February 2)--A catastrophically sudden shift in global climate patterns occurred at 7:14 AM Eastern Standard Time, as famed marmot Punxsawhatsis Phil failed to see his shadow, causing instantaneous springtime.

Despite prodigious amounts of pointing, screaming, and jumping up and down by local groundhog enthusiasts, Phil steadfastly refused to look down and notice his shadow. "If I didn't know better," said longtime Phil-ologist Mike "Scooter" Redfern, "I'd say the little feller's being stubborn."

As is well-known in meteorozoological circles, springtime commences on March 20 only because a special groundhog (known to afficionados as "The God Marmot") sees its shadow. While the precise mechanism of Punxsahoochie Phil's absolute control over the Earth's climatic system is unknown (scientists believe it has something to do with the kidneys), the statistics speak for themselves: Approximately six weeks after Groundhog Day, spring begins.

While many observers welcomed the sudden blossoming of trees and greening of snow-covered hillsides, scientists fear the consequences of the instantaneous 48 degree average jump in temperatures across the northern hemisphere. Retailers responded quickly, slashing prices on winterwear by 60-80%. Nationwide, drugstores were overrun by those suffering sudden crippling attacks of hay fever.

The Reverend Pat Robertson was quick to declare that the sudden onset of springtime temperatures was a consequence of homosexuality. "It is a known fact," he said, "that your typical homosexual is a godless heathen who worships groundhogs. We have reaped what we have sown. Oh, and Jews are still bad, too."

President Obama addressed the situation at a hastily called press conference. "You know, for eight long years we had an administration that put its faith in magic groundhogs and kicked the problem of climate change down the road. Well, we can no longer afford to ignore global warming. It's here. It's real. The groundhog has spoken."

He implored congressional leaders of both parties to put aside partisanship and work together to address the crisis.

Not Mr. Irrelevant, , ,

. . . but it probably should be.

Robben Island, the infamous prison island where Nelson Mandela was held for 18 years, is being overrun by rabbits. Since the prison closed and was later declared a World Heritage Site, bunnies have gone from being minor pests to a major pestilence. Without prison guards using them as target practice, the rabbits have been free to do what rabbits do: make more rabbits. Now, so many rabbits have been made that they are running out of food. "[The rabbits] were literally climbing up trees to eat anything that was green."

If the thought of tree-climbing rabbits unnerves you, you are not alone. The authorities quickly determined that something had to be done. An initial proposal to relocate the rabbits to the South African mainland was quickly nixed, proving that bureaucrats at least sometimes make the right decisions. A subsequent plan to euthanize the rabbits with lethal injections proved unworkable when the rabbits refused to cooperate by entering traps in significant enough numbers. Furthermore, when trapped, the rabbits' "terrorized faces and quivering bodies" made even the staunchest of trappers long for the sight of starving bunnies climbing trees.

The solution was obvious: Unleash a small army of aspiring Elmer Fudds to cull the herd (flock? pride? what's the collective term for bunnies?). Despite the perhaps unfortunate symbolism of armed South-African-government-authorized hunters traipsing through the underbrush, flushing out and massacring the majority population, the alternative--today Robben Island, tomorrow the Rabbit Continent--is decidedly inferior.

You read it here last!

The Yawn Bowl

The past few Sundays, we've extolled the virtues of, and then offered a post-mortem for, the New York Jets. As the Super Bowl will be played next week (Go Saints!), our Sundays of football commentary will soon draw to a close. In the meantime, though, here's one more.

Today the NFL presents the Pro Bowl, its all-star game. In a previous post, we expressed our disappointment in baseball's All-Star Game. But as irrelevant and dull as we find THAT exhibition, it is of significantly greater interest than its gridiron cousin.

One reason for our apathy--and, we suspect, that of other football fans as well--has been the standard scheduling of the game for the week after the Super Bowl: Fans exhaust themselves during the two-week hypefest leading up to the big game, and they are hardly in a mood to bestir themselves for one more game that counts for nothing. In an attempt to countervail these feelings, the NFL has this season moved the Pro Bowl to the Sunday BEFORE the Super Bowl, where it can occupy a space heretofore reserved for additional pregame hype that none of us truly needs.

Nice try, but we still don't care. Part of this stems from a major flaw in the rescheduling logic. By sandwiching the Pro Bowl between the conference championships and the Super Bowl, the league has ensured a lack of participation by some of the game's biggest stars. Players who participated in last week's games are either headed for the Super Bowl--in which case they are hardly going to suffer exhaustion and risk injury for a meaningless exhibition--or are heading home, sore, bummed out, and achy, after coming within 60 minutes of performing in their sport's ultimate showcase; they are not likely to be enthusiastic Pro-Bowlers.

But the main problem with a football all-star game goes beyond scheduling concerns. The problem is that football, for all the spectacular individual players--the Mannings and Breeses, the Fitzgeralds and Revises--is a TEAM sport, to an extent that baseball and even basketball are not. Indeed, there is NO SUCH THING as an individual play in football: A spectacular quarterback still needs someone to catch his passes; a terrific running back needs blockers. And while the Pro Bowl may feature the "top" performers at each position, the overall talent will inevitably be weaker than the sum of its parts. A great offensive line, for example, is not just a conglomeration of good professional athletes, but a SYSTEM--a group of players who work together week after week, each of whom knows the strengths, weaknesses, and tendencies of his colleagues, and each of whom utilizes this knowledge to create a dominating unit. This knowledge, it should be obvious, cannot be acquired by a group of relative strangers working out together for a week, no matter how skillful each of the individuals is.

So, back to the drawing board, NFL. Try reworking those X's and O's if you are convinced we need an all-star game. We'll be waiting.