HELLO, MY name is Felipe, and I’m a recovered Democrat.
(Audience: Hi, Felipe!)
I was a Democrat for over 60 years. I’d like to blame it on my parents, especially my father who was a flaming socialist, but I think more than anything, I simply was ignorant.
I childishly believed we live in a world that can be perfected. I believed in the efficacy of collectivism, and that government basically worked in our best interests.
(Audience: Howling laughter!)
Yes, I know how silly that sounds, and I am so ashamed that it took me decades to kick the Democrat habit.
I know now that government is good only for basics like protecting our borders, forming police forces, building interstate highways, and so on.
In most areas, government does things badly.
(Audience: Right on, Felipe!)
I’m proud to tell you that this year, at the age of 72, I voted Republican for the first time.
(Audience: Wild cheering!)
I had begun to doubt the Democrat Party in 2008 after learning of Barry Obama’s 20 years of sitting in his Chicago pew listening to the rants of the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, especially when Wright “damned America.”
We all know how fast the Democrat Party muzzled Jeremiah Wright. I sat out the 2008 presidential election.
By 2012, Barry Obama’s colors were blatantly obvious. I would have cast my first Republican vote that year, but the absentee ballot never made it to my mountaintop.
The ballot came this year. I checked the straight GOP ticket, and sent it Friday by registered mail.
(Audience: More wild cheering!)
Yes, I voted for Donald Trump!
(Audience: Goes berserk. Men stomp feet. Women weep.)
(Moderator: Thank you for sharing, Felipe. And now let’s all move to the rear of the hall for donuts and coffee.)*
* * * *
* The coffee and donuts turned out to be stale, but I hear it’s always that way.
I’M SITTING ON a hard pew in the main cathedral of the state capital. Instead of praying or even reading the Bible, I’m waiting and occasionally reading Donald Rumsfeld’s memoirs on my Kindle. That fellow in the pew ahead of me is probably praying enough for the both of us.
God and doctors. That’s the theme for today. God because, well, look where I am, surrounded by religious trappings as only the Catholics can do it. I enjoy sitting here. Wish I had a cushion, however, for my skinny butt. Doctors, because my wife is visiting one right now.
Allow me to rub it in some more, to those of you who live outside Mexico, poor darlings, trapped by “free,” socialist, medical schemes in both Canada and, now, Barry’s America.
My child bride was unfortunate enough to have two medical crises at the same time, neither life-threatening but both physically unpleasant. It began on Monday, so we phoned Specialist No. 1 in the nearby state capital and easily made an appointment for the following day at 10 a.m.
Monday night, problem No. 2 erupted, so as we were driving to the state capital Tuesday morning, we phoned Specialist No. 2 and easily made an appointment for 11:30, 90 minutes later.
Can you do that where you live? Heck no.
While she was at the office of Specialist No. 1, I walked the four blocks to this cathedral. Yes, I’m not actually sitting there at this moment. Luckily, she finished in time for us to drive to Specialist No. 2, whose office is in the annex of the Star Médica hospital, a great Mexican chain.
Both issues were handily resolved, and we paid the reasonable charges in cash.
And that, mis amigos, is how health care should be handled.