The peace talks for Proximania's messy God-Gave-Who-What-When dispute can now proceed to the next precondition. The thorniest of them all has been resolved.
Israel will now allow both Israelis, their tourists and their Arab Proximates to buy and use iPads without warrantless detention.
Virtually everyone on Facebook hailed the announcement as "liked", right under the precious picture of the family puppy's really cute rear end in action.
The Gang of Four met secretly in Geneva, because of the good fishing pond, to discuss a tentative response to the news. And possible sanctions against puppies. On a related note, The Big O was so delighted that he texted a jolly invite to a celebratory afternoon tea on his very own iPad, which mistakenly routed it to "TP" on his contact list, which is why Alice Palin showed up in her pinafore instead of the expected Hillary Clinton.
iPads in hand, Israelis and their favorite Proximates can instantly know where in Jerusalem they are building houses. This is important because... well, because each side says so.
With iPads, all Proximates living outside of Proximania can more easily find their way back to the beautiful ranch houses and bountiful farms they left behind when Nebuchadnezzar II deported everyone to Babylon; or, much later, when the rest of were forced to move by Otto Preminger to clear the battle scenes filmed for the fabled Exodus, but with Paul Newman instead of Moses.
iPads will change everything.
Iranian President Egad, spinning anticly atop an advanced centrifuge, had only good if garbled things to say about the breakthrough, so his remarks went unreported.
Showing posts with label alice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alice. Show all posts
Monday, April 26, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
A Tea Party Huzzah for Health Insurers
The Heathcaristas in TBO's Socialist administration may be turning cartwheels to the point of dizzying the liberal media. It doesn't take much to figure their misguided glee.
WellPoint.
No, not Good Point, but there's a beacon of goodness for all adherents of the Tea Party of Wonderland ("TP")
WellPoint is a big health insurance company, with 33 million insureds. Many had though the name meant something about making people well, but, it turns out, it has everything to do with only intelligently incentivizing women who stay well.
Seems the huge, free-market health insurer borrowed some unemployed computer programer from Lehman's and cooked up an algorithm--computer-speak for a routine that figures certain things out on its own--that plucked out, from WellPoint's millions of paid-up policy holders anybody who no longer did not have breast cancer. Having done that, algorithm raised a little pink flag next to all those names and went back looking for more.
The next step was left to tireless WellPoint staffers, TP'ers themselves perhaps, who sent pink slip-like notices out to the flagged women, stuck on a pink Post-it on those files and passed along them to magnifying-glass-wielding file-reading specialists. Those intrepid, if strained-eyed, gallants scrutinize the pink-Post-it'ed policy applications for omissions, errors or downright misspellings to justify the previously sent cancellations.
WellPoint's CEO, Angela "Pinkie" Braly, surely gets a bonus based on such algorithms. And she should. Wellpoint's charter does not mention justice, welfare or blessings and the corporation mission should not be diverted by such preamblings. WellPoint's precept is singular, as is Pinkie's job: Profit. Pure and simple. Women with breast cancer are bad risks for any insurance company. They will almost certainly cost more than a woman whose worst complaint is a weekend of Viagra.
As you the critics out there, ask yourself this, and think of it as your money at risk: Would you insure a sick person against getting sick? They're already sick, for God's sake. No one can expect you to insure someone who is guaranteed to require a big reserve before she pays her second premium. Taking a risk, you could live with that, but a known sure thing headed the wrong way? That's not insurance, that's a bottom-line uglier than a quart of Pepto. It's flaming, bonus-blotting red.
So, don't you flinch, Pinkie. In the Tea Party of Wonderland's Kool-Aid pinned eyes, you are a superstar! You are what TP was invented for.
And, Pinkie? Don't wear a ribbon when go to get your well-deserved, if ironic, Teabagger of the Quarter Award from Alice Palin.
WellPoint.
No, not Good Point, but there's a beacon of goodness for all adherents of the Tea Party of Wonderland ("TP")
WellPoint is a big health insurance company, with 33 million insureds. Many had though the name meant something about making people well, but, it turns out, it has everything to do with only intelligently incentivizing women who stay well.
Seems the huge, free-market health insurer borrowed some unemployed computer programer from Lehman's and cooked up an algorithm--computer-speak for a routine that figures certain things out on its own--that plucked out, from WellPoint's millions of paid-up policy holders anybody who no longer did not have breast cancer. Having done that, algorithm raised a little pink flag next to all those names and went back looking for more.
The next step was left to tireless WellPoint staffers, TP'ers themselves perhaps, who sent pink slip-like notices out to the flagged women, stuck on a pink Post-it on those files and passed along them to magnifying-glass-wielding file-reading specialists. Those intrepid, if strained-eyed, gallants scrutinize the pink-Post-it'ed policy applications for omissions, errors or downright misspellings to justify the previously sent cancellations.
WellPoint's CEO, Angela "Pinkie" Braly, surely gets a bonus based on such algorithms. And she should. Wellpoint's charter does not mention justice, welfare or blessings and the corporation mission should not be diverted by such preamblings. WellPoint's precept is singular, as is Pinkie's job: Profit. Pure and simple. Women with breast cancer are bad risks for any insurance company. They will almost certainly cost more than a woman whose worst complaint is a weekend of Viagra.
As you the critics out there, ask yourself this, and think of it as your money at risk: Would you insure a sick person against getting sick? They're already sick, for God's sake. No one can expect you to insure someone who is guaranteed to require a big reserve before she pays her second premium. Taking a risk, you could live with that, but a known sure thing headed the wrong way? That's not insurance, that's a bottom-line uglier than a quart of Pepto. It's flaming, bonus-blotting red.
So, don't you flinch, Pinkie. In the Tea Party of Wonderland's Kool-Aid pinned eyes, you are a superstar! You are what TP was invented for.
And, Pinkie? Don't wear a ribbon when go to get your well-deserved, if ironic, Teabagger of the Quarter Award from Alice Palin.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Pitty the Foo!
So, it is not the Mr. T Party. Mr. T would not worry about voting the Socialists and Wimps out of office. Gold chains clanking and dialog lacking, Mr. T would just throw them directly into Boston Harbor. Or any nearby Ave.
Don't pretend you don't feel the same way about your computer, either.
America's Fraternity of Teabaggers, which changed its name to The Tea Party Of Wonderland, is still at it. And now, they have their own heretofore bored, 3D Alice in Sarah Palin, the Governor of Alaska who can see farther than the Who on a clear day. The Teabaggers finally have the honest-to-God, really high-pitched squeak that might get them some serious media grease.
Especially the serious part. At the outset of their coverage, the media reported on the Teabaggers with a stage snicker and all the immediacy of a snipe hunt. Could anyone get past the fact that the Teabaggers loved that name and had no idea how to use Google (there being no "Bing!" on your favorite TV show at that early date). After the media-lashing about their collective face, the Teabaggers did some research on a borrowed set of Wikipedia and said, "Oh."
And the Tea Party ("TP") of Wonderland was born.
Long before Tim Burton and IMAX landed a Hatter's hat or a Red Queen's foot-pig in you lap.
The TP is all about squeaking out against taxes. Any taxes, all taxes. And spending. Any spending, all spending. And government, all government. The TP wants Americans to keep all of their money so that they may invest it wisely in new jobs and credit default swap options.
The shockingly almost-bold, near-revolutionary TP wants any politician who is in government and who casts an aye toward taxes or spending to be voted out of office.
Yes, voted. Not lined up against a wall and pelted with New Classic Comic Bibles. (Even the abridged ADHD version can really hurt if thrown only a foot or two.)
Yes, voted. Not sprayed with blood, dropped twenty feet from a Boeing 777, or sunburned with a looking glass in a soccer stadium.
Whose a whimpy Dormouse?
Some Republicans, mostly peeking out from under the checkered tablecloth when the TP is nigh, are worried that the ultra-reactionary TP will push the Republican party off the underlying table, spilling GOP candidates along with the caffeine water, by pushing the Greed Old Party farther to the Right.
Like that's possible.
And, don't tell anyone, but that Cheshire-stlyle smile you see floating above the Tea Party? That big, toothy smile looks awfully Hawaiian, doesn't it?
Don't pretend you don't feel the same way about your computer, either.
America's Fraternity of Teabaggers, which changed its name to The Tea Party Of Wonderland, is still at it. And now, they have their own heretofore bored, 3D Alice in Sarah Palin, the Governor of Alaska who can see farther than the Who on a clear day. The Teabaggers finally have the honest-to-God, really high-pitched squeak that might get them some serious media grease.
Especially the serious part. At the outset of their coverage, the media reported on the Teabaggers with a stage snicker and all the immediacy of a snipe hunt. Could anyone get past the fact that the Teabaggers loved that name and had no idea how to use Google (there being no "Bing!" on your favorite TV show at that early date). After the media-lashing about their collective face, the Teabaggers did some research on a borrowed set of Wikipedia and said, "Oh."
And the Tea Party ("TP") of Wonderland was born.
Long before Tim Burton and IMAX landed a Hatter's hat or a Red Queen's foot-pig in you lap.
The TP is all about squeaking out against taxes. Any taxes, all taxes. And spending. Any spending, all spending. And government, all government. The TP wants Americans to keep all of their money so that they may invest it wisely in new jobs and credit default swap options.
The shockingly almost-bold, near-revolutionary TP wants any politician who is in government and who casts an aye toward taxes or spending to be voted out of office.
Yes, voted. Not lined up against a wall and pelted with New Classic Comic Bibles. (Even the abridged ADHD version can really hurt if thrown only a foot or two.)
Yes, voted. Not sprayed with blood, dropped twenty feet from a Boeing 777, or sunburned with a looking glass in a soccer stadium.
Whose a whimpy Dormouse?
Some Republicans, mostly peeking out from under the checkered tablecloth when the TP is nigh, are worried that the ultra-reactionary TP will push the Republican party off the underlying table, spilling GOP candidates along with the caffeine water, by pushing the Greed Old Party farther to the Right.
Like that's possible.
And, don't tell anyone, but that Cheshire-stlyle smile you see floating above the Tea Party? That big, toothy smile looks awfully Hawaiian, doesn't it?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
