Bob Hayes Online

Boom.

Lovely day. Many speeches, tirades, prayers, invocations, blessings, pledges, singing of patriotic songs. Didn’t spot any racism, but did find a food vendor or two. If there were any infiltrators or agents provocateur about, I didn’t see them. (I’d make a bad spy.) Signage was somewhat subdued compared to past events – it did feel like people were holding back for fear of being considered racist. My wife says there was a woman in a Statue of Liberty costume but I somehow missed that. It was a fairly big crowd – I would guess a couple thousand all told.

Took a few pictures, enjoyed the nice people, look forward to this November. There were a few counterprotestors, but none interesting enough to intentionally photograph.

Not to dump on Alas, but this is just priceless.

“We have to pretend that we’re not going to fund abortions, but secretly it’s OK, don’t worry, we are totally lying to convince these yokels here to vote with us today, we’ll distract them with shiny objects when it comes time to vote again later For Reals.”

Really? That’s really the strategy?

Good thing there aren’t any Internets or public watchdogs who would notice that kind of behavior, and make the people engaging in it look like sleazy hacks. Luckily all those Democratic congresscritters currently being duped are all illiterate, and will never comprehend (or indeed, learn about) this approach.

My friend Barry is verklempt that the health care debacle stampeding its way over the cliff may well disrupt abortion coverage for many American women.

Because many small employers are expected to switch to using the exchanges, this means that women who currently have abortion coverage through their small employer, will have their coverage replaced with insurance that doesn’t cover abortion.

You mean running health insurance through the government might MESS UP private choices privately negotiated, by putting the whole thing under the control of the political class?

CRA-A-AZY!

OK, so they don’t believe us.

Normally I would say “whatever”, but in this instance what “they” think has some bearing on what we’ll pay.

So I think that perhaps we need to show them a second time.

I was at the rally. I’ll be honest – I don’t think were two million of us there; I somewhat doubt there were one million.

But there were a hell of a lot more than 70,000 of us.

And now they want to PUT US IN JAIL if we don’t want to buy their insurance policies. Man, I wish I was an insurance salesman with that kind of firepower! “Ma’am, I suggest that you just sign the policy. I don’t want Officer Murphy over there to have to put you in the squad car, ma’am.”

Not just no. Hell no.

And so I think, this once, that we do actually have something to prove.

Forgive a personal aside. After the rally, my wife and I took the opportunity to visit Mount Vernon, to pay our respects to General Washington and his wife. Neither of us had been before and it was invigorating to see where Washington had been, where he had lived and led. Yet, both while we were there and after we left, I felt saddened to think of what Washington would think of us today. Perennially indebted, led by rogue after rogue, paying shattering taxes for a debilitating nanny state – what a spectacle we would present to that titan!

Yet, there are things that our Founding Father would approve of, too. One, I think, is that despite whatever initial astonishment he might feel at the prospect, in time he would be delighted to know that the liberty he established has reached the stage where an American of African descent could become its chief executive.

The other is that he would be delighted to know that as the Republic was threatened, there would continue to be brave men and women who would defend her, both on and off the battlefield.

I propose another March on Washington, to make unmistakable what has been mistaken. I propose that two million American patriots, taxpayers, lovers of freedom – at least two million – come to Washington this fall, to demonstrate once again – and this time irrefutably – that there are millions of us, that we are angry at what has been done and is being done to this our beloved country, and that we will not stand by and watch.

I propose that the March be held on December 15, 2009, the 218th anniversary of the day the Bill of Rights became law in these United States. (April 15 would be an even better day, but that’s too far in the future – we’ve got to put a stop to these people now.) October 31, 2009. It’s a Saturday, the last one before the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons take over the memespace. It’s Halloween – the best time to resist The Man. We can have one heck of a barbecue/picnic/protest march/rally in the daytime, and a heck of a party that night.

And I propose that there be a central registry for attendees to sign in, attest their name, address, and citizenship – you know, the things that are impossible for us to expect voters to do – so that whether the media decides to cover it or not, we’ll have proof that we were there.

I’d love to organize it (and will if drafted) but the people who facilitated the 9/12 rally would be the obvious choice. I’ll go. I’ll sell the contents of my garage if I have to to pay for it, but I’ll go.

We have a country to defend.

My wife and I ended up at the huge health care protest today. We hadn’t even known there was going to be an event (cut us some slack, it’s been busy) until I read in the paper (yes, I read a paper – I hope my 75 cents keeps the Post alive for another day or two) that the organizers of the event had a bomb threat yesterday. We decided to go, and it was very interesting.

Capitol police say about 1.5 million people were there; other estimates have topped 2 million. Honestly, that seems (very) high, but it’s notoriously difficult to get a good count when you’re in the middle of the crowd. I would have guessed a few hundred thousand – maybe a million on the high end. It was a very polite crowd, and from what I saw the (tiny) group of counterprotestors wasn’t abused. (OK, I did march along with them for a few moments shouting “I want free money! Free money now!”, but my wife made me come back. Spoilsport.)

99% of the crowd were people who have never been in a protest in their entire life. The crowd was older – lots and lots of vets and cornfed Midwestern types. Interestingly, the Mall was left quite clean when everyone had left – conservatives pick up their trash, I guess. The other half of the mall was reserved for a black family group having a huge “family reunion” and picnic – despite the rampant racism and black hatred, our 2 million didn’t go and beat up their hundred thousand or so. (Maybe the racists didn’t want to embarrass the black people marching with us.)

LOTS of signs, mostly handmade. Some organizations and media figures have been beating the drum for this apparently (I can’t stand Glenn Beck so we never watch his show) but everybody there we talked to had gotten themselves to DC, no astroturf that we could see beyond the scattering of pre-printed signs. I was absolutely shocked at the size of the crowd; we got onto the Metro to go into DC at Shady Grove, the northernmost red line stop, and the line for the farecards filled the entire lobby as a bunch of people who had never been to DC before tried to figure out the system. (It didn’t help that there are now two different kinds of farecards.) The whole Metro system was semi-overwhelmed by the numbers, but they did a great job keeping everybody moving and other than the crowds the transportation situation was quite smooth.

It’s hard to figure the impact of events like this. But if I was a moderate Democrat congressman on the fence, I think I would have just been pushed off. There are a lot more people out there who won’t stand for what they see as socialized medicine, than people had guessed.

Later we went to the National Gallery of Art and looked at the Spanish swords and armor display, which was pretty awesome. Armor-making by the gunpowder age had become a truly refined science, and they had some replica pieces made of stainless steel you could try on. Anyone who wants to see a photo of me clutching a mailed gauntlet to my chest or wearing a visored helmet should check here next week when I get home and get a chance to upload pictures.

I’m currently shopping for a gauntlet of my own.

In my Oberlin College days, I was a member of OSCA, serving on the board for a term and putting in a happy year of residence at one of the hippier residence halls. It was an interesting experience, and it convinced me of the ability of cooperatives to function competently in the economy. I wonder if some of that competence couldn’t be utilized in the health care field. I have sketched out some ideas on how such a co-op could function.

A co-op organization could be formed with a charter of providing health care for its membership. To start things off, initial membership would probably have to restrict itself to people without current major medical conditions or expenses. That could change later on as the co-op deploys more resources, but to begin with it has to be a mutual self-insurance group, not a charity.

The co-op’s financing would work on the basis of a tithe. Members would agree to contribute a fixed percentage of household income – probably starting at something like ten percent – as their membership contribution. There would be an income minimum – probably something like $10,000 a year. Households with more than one member would pay an additional percentage – perhaps two percent per person. Members who utilize an arbitrarily large quantity of resources might have their base rate increase. There would be a cap on the tithe of say twenty-five percent of income.

Payout would be very simple. Every household would have a credit balance, consisting of their contribution to the co-op to date. Members can spend their credit freely from co-op funds using a credit card issued by the co-op. Members have to spend it on medical expenses, but the honor system plus a minimal review system (“how is a resort stay in the Bahamas a medical expense, dear?”) should keep administrative costs low.

During the first year of operation, the co-op would collect tithes and disburse only funds from its existing balances. No balance, no payout, sorry.

At the end of the first year, the co-op’s cash balance would be examined and the co-op board would decide what portion to invest (conservatively, in government bonds or something of similar solidity) and what portion to be made available for charitable redistribution within the co-op. Invested funds would still have to be somewhat liquid, since members can make withdrawals from their balances, but it should be relatively easy for the banking types to figure out what percentage needs to be kept purely liquid and what can go into T-bills or what have you. The board would also review the contribution rates and make adjustments as necessary, in response to member feedback and the economic climate.

After the first year, when the co-op has a working balance sheet, a review board is formed. This is a rotating volunteer panel made up of co-op members elected to one-year terms.  A modest fraction of the slots on the panel are reserved for doctors and nurses so that the board always has access to a medical point of view. The board knows the charity balance, as does the membership, as it’s posted on the web site and updated regularly.

If people need more care than their balance allows, they can apply to the review board. Applicants are expected to either already have spent their balance to zero or be willing to do so in pursuit of some much more expensive treatment. The board’s approach should generally be to allow a budget to the member, rather than to specifically approve or disapprove a procedure. Thus, the co-op can help with partially financing procedures where a member may have access to other partial funding sources, rather than making an all-or-nothing decision. The budget can be large or small, and can be designed to pay for one procedure or for a reasonable course of treatment, at the board’s discretion. Board meetings are public, but deliberations on cases are private. The budget would be added to the recipient’s card once it was granted, and they could go out and buy the care they need.

There would be a couple of different policies that the co-op could adjust as needs and conditions changed. One is the criteria for membership. Obviously, the co-op wants to have lots of healthy people who don’t need a lot of medical care, in order that the system flourish and have plenty of resources. But the point is to deliver health care, not just to accumulate capital in the charity fund. The governing board will have to set the rate at which already-sick people can join the co-op. A ratio like 1 in 10 is probably sustainable even in the early years of the co-ops development; 1 in 5 would not be unreasonable once the system is rich. The other number the co-op would have to fiddle with, of course, is the base tithe and the quantity of the adjustment for being an expensive member (expensive member meaning people paying a higher tithe than the base rate).

The reason to adjust upwards for expensive members who draw down their balance is to create a moral pressure against unneeded use. The expensive member isn’t really losing anything – the money goes into their account, after all, and they can always take it out to use on their medical bills. But it’s a psychological construct that reminds this member that they do have health care expenses and must plan ahead for them.

The board could also use its discretion to purchase group catastrophic insurance for certain conditions, if that turned out to be cost-effective for the membership.

The principle virtue of a co-op like the one I’ve described is that it almost completely eliminates moral hazard. Everyone understands that they are responsible for their own care, that they must contribute in order to receive – and yet membership is voluntary, so there is no coercion or threat. There is a powerful and obvious incentive for everyone to not spend down their balances – not only does the money accumulate to them (it could even pay interest), they know that every year of a budget surplus improves the investment pool, meaning that there will be more available in the future when the member might need a big helping hand. Members who were able to put in a year or two without incurring medical costs could relax somewhat, knowing that if Junior breaks his arm, there’s thousands of dollars in the account to cover it – but they wouldn’t feel incentivized to stop working and contributing to the system, because they also know that Junior’s cancer-God-forbid would go through that fund like nothing.

Rather than one giant national co-op, it would make more sense to have lots and lots of smaller groups – perhaps oriented around affinity groups so that members would have an automatic fraternal feeling. Lots of small co-ops spread risk, and also give people maximum freedom in finding a group with policies they approve of.

Even smaller co-ops (say 1,000 members), if localized, would have considerable buying power, and since the co-op credit card is just like cash, they would be extremely desirable customers. Doctors and hospitals would be eager to take co-op business – no paperwork, no hassles with the gatekeepers (the member already having gone through that), just smooth easy green for services rendered. The co-ops could probably negotiate very good discount rates, locally and nationally. Hearkening back to OSCA’s membership in various umbrella groups, a co-op of health care co-ops built on this model could probably negotiate with the big boys.

I would join such a co-op. Heck, I might just start it.

The pro-health care reform folks are holding a rally in Denver this Friday.

Hey, fellow forces of good, we should get on this and show up. Whaddya say?

I went up to a teaparty event outside the offices of Congresswoman Diana DeGette (D-01) in Denver yesterday. There was an event scheduled for my own representative, but it would be rather anticlimactic in staunchly red Colorado Springs. (“I’m Congressman Lamborn. What are you protesting for?” “We demand that you vote against this health care bill!” “OK, will do!” “Oh…uh…well…”) The event at the Democratic office promised more exciting blog action.

It was a gorgeous sunny day and I really regretted that fact that the air conditioning in the Black Mamba isn’t working. (Should have turned it in as a clunker and gotten a shiny new Hyundai, I guess!)

I have a secret parking spot in Denver that I often use for events – it’s a shady street with long-term meters and it’s very close to the downtown core. Less hassles and a healthy walk, what could be better? Unfortunately, this time I must have failed my Navigation skill check, because I thought the rally was going to be at the capitol building. Instead, it was a good ten blocks south, and while my parking spot was in fact only seven blocks or so from the event, my chosen route would end up taking me about twenty blocks all told.

I (mistakenly) walked and walked to get to Capitol Hill, expecting at any moment to come across my crowd of protesters. Instead, just mostly-empty parks:

And historic Denver landmarks:

When I finally got to Grant Street I realized that the rally was the aforementioned ten blocks south. It was too far to go back to the car, so I just trudged it.

And trudged it.

And trudged it.

Finally…up in the distance…could it be? A glimpse of placards waving in the air? Yes:

Here’s our team in various poses. There were between 25 and 35 of us there at any particular time. We had a main group on the north end of the intersection and a smaller group on the south side. The Obamanauts were also on the south side.

Our main team:

Our emergency backup team:

Jed and his fellow members of the Tyranny Response Team: ever vigilant.

Want to see those signs better?

(T-shirt text: There are 10 kinds of people in this world, people who get binary and people who don’t.)

Here’s the Obama group. There were usually about 10 of them. Periodically they sidled up and tried to integrate with our satellite group to try and look bigger, or perhaps they were trying out an anschluss. Note the preprinted signs. That’s the sign of grass-roots activism, you know – having your own union print shop with a standing order of “Hope” posters.

Some of our better signs:

During the rally, cars and pedestrians passed by. We got the bulk of the love, but there were some catcalls too. One driver literally leaned out of his car to shout “Are you giving up your Medicare? Are you giving up your Medicare?” loudly. Alas, the obvious riposte (“No, we’re trying to save it from YOU!”) came too late. Catcallers really should go around the block and come around again so that the slower-witted of us have time to prepare our responses.

There wasn’t a great deal of excitement, but it was good to see the people letting their representatives know their opinions. It was nice to see Jed and the boys again, but the summer afternoon was dwindling and the wife was expecting me home…here’s a last parting shot from this tiny outpost of participatory democracy.

And then a long trudge back to the Black Mamba for the return voyage (and date night with the wife) – I’d post a picture of the car but its sheer awesomeness would make you realize the futility of your own crappy life and you’d have no choice but to end it all, and I don’t want that on my conscience.

At least according to these lawyer-type guys, Congress lacks the power to mandate insurance purchases.

Good! I had already resolved that I would disobey the law, and that I would further not pay the penalties and fines, etc. A law repugnant to the Constitution is void and I am not obliged to obey it.