I was not going to go to Willow last night. I was going to spend a quiet evening and catch up on some reading and maybe an episode of “Breaking Bad,” which was highly recommended by people in a position to know such things. Frankly, though, the idea of starting five linear seasons of a show, regardless of the quality, is a bit daunting.
Then came the news that the air was coming out of the GOP revolt in the House, and Mr. Reid and Mr. McConnell had exchanged pleasantries and the awful drama about shutting down the government and destroying the global economy….was over.
“Well, it’s not over,” I said to Old Jim. “Not until they vote, and then the House has to vote, and then the intern at the Spite House has to run the autopen on the Bill to make it law.”
Jim harrumphed, and said the Senate vote would happen just about the time we normally rise from our stools and let age and entropy carry us home. “There is still time for something stupid to happen,” he said. “But I think this did not end with a bang.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I could hear the Republican whimpering out there as I drove over in the Bluesmobile. Thank God this is over. ” Brett topped up my happy Hour white with a splash from the bottle kept on ice in the bucket next to the one that held Jim’s ready-locker of Budweiser long necks. “Thanks, Brett. This is a great system.”
He gave me one of his thousand-dollar smiles and said: “It ain’t over. They just kicked it past New Year’s Day. This is stupid.” Then he pulled a couple drafts for the die-hards sitting out on the patio, enjoying the slightly cool pre-Halloween air as the shadows deepened to night. Not much sitting out left in this year, though Tracy has got all the gourds and pumpkins arrayed on the brick steps in a festive manner to get us through the big Halloween party.
I looked over at Jim “They say a 37-year-old dude named David Pfeiffer is the intellectual giant who convinced Mr. Obama to do nothing, and accuse Mr. Boehner of being a terrorist hostage-taker with a gun to someone’s head.”
“Politics in Washington? I am sure you must be mistaken. The President has to use the people he has, and if he is a B-team guy, that is the way it is.”
“ I am glad the all-stars Like Axelrod and Gibbs left town after the first term. I’m OK with letting 30-something idiots lead the nation. What could go wrong?”
“Hah,” scowled Jim. “You got your iPad with you?” I told him I never went anywhere without it and reached down and slid it out of my backpack. “I want to show you something on Facebook.”
We wrestled with the technology for a while, two geezers trying to navigate social media that is about as challenging for us as the Affordable Care Act is for everyone else.
John-with-an-H was not contributing his usual acerbic commentary on the various machinations of the Administration, and was concentrating his full attention on a lovely woman to his right, away from the IT challenge with which we were confronted. I didn’t know how well he was doing, but admired his energy.
We managed to open Facebook and get to Jim’s page, but he could not find what he was looking for. He put down the tablet on the bar and scowled. “Goddamn thing. I can’t find the pictures.”
“What were they?” I asked, taking a sip of wine. “I hope they were not prurient. You should see what I found on Tumblr the other day.”
“What’s Tumblr?” he asked.
“It is a photo-sharing thing. There is more weird stuff than I have ever seen in one place. Nothing short of amazing.”
“My pictures were just of the grand kids carving pumpkins. Sorry.”
“I bet they were cute,” I said, reaching for the tulip glass and the golden wine. “Oh, wait, so long as I have this open, let me show you something.” I pressed the button on the bottom to back up a layer and pressed the compass icon on the screen to go to Safari. “I got a health-care calculator- it is from Kaiser, not the government, since that one works. It is very cool. Check it out.” I pushed the iPad over and Jim clicked on the link.
The page opened- it wasn’t a government project- and displayed a simple menu to enter parameters for income, coverage, and location. “Fascinating,” he said, scrolling through the options and reading the small print aloud. “I like the tobacco surcharge. Serves you right, you irresponsible asshole.”
“I can always quit,” I said in a huff. “In fact, I think I will have to. Thankfully smoking cessation is covered under my TriCare Prime.”
“What would it do to if you military retirees get pushed over to the Affordable Care Act? Secretary Hagel has been making noises that you ungrateful retirees are looting the treasury and hindering the acquisition of important new systems that don’t work.”
“I calculated the part of my pension I don’t give to the ex, added the VA disability and social security to get to my projected income. Pathetic, but when I entered it and calculated the tobacco surcharge at “up to 50%,” I would be paying $900 a month for the “Silver” plan. You can pay less for Bronze, which only includes witchdoctors, or you can pay more for Gold, which is actually electroplated, not solid.”
“That is a lot. What do you pay now?”
“A little under three hundred.”
“Jesus- that is quite an increase.”
“No, Jim, that is three hundred a year.”
“Man, it is no wonder they didn’t want the web site to work.”
“Duh. I think we ought to drink now, while we can still afford it.”
John-with eventually struck out with the lady, paid up and went home. I glanced over. She was an attractive gal, but I decided that it was too late in the day for fool’s errands. I waved at Tex for the check, handed him the credit card. “I want to go home and see if anyone had hurled us off the cliff while we were drinking.”
Jim agreed. I wound up walking with him to the police cruiser and drove him the rest of the fifty feet to the front door to his condo building.
I got out to limp around the back of the car and see if he needed help getting out. Jim threatened to whack me with his cane.
“See you tomorrow,” he growled.
“God willing and the creek don’t rise,” I said and got back in the Bluesmobile for the ride home. But I did sense that the waters might in fact be rising, you know?
Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303