1:26 AM
wisepunk commented on
The Cost (and Fear) of Dying.
goddamn stupid posting system. I blame that eastside chick with the sunglasses in the pioneer square joint cover ad on the right.
1:25 AM
wisepunk commented on
The Cost (and Fear) of Dying.
@4
I think what the doctor was saying is that the medical industry is creating resources that are not needed. Profit is the motive not health care. Rather than having a rational discussion about end of life health, they are more concerned with billing insurance/medicare for as much as possible while they can. Someone is going to have to pay for that third MRI machine.
1:25 AM
wisepunk commented on
The Cost (and Fear) of Dying.
@4
I think what the doctor was saying is that the medical industry is creating resources that are not needed. Profit is the motive not health care. Rather than having a rational discussion about end of life health, they are more concerned with billing insurance/medicare for as much as possible while they can. Someone is going to have to pay for that third MRI machine.
10:54 PM yesterday
wisepunk commented on
The Cost (and Fear) of Dying.
Spot on Anthony. I watched this a bit ago. The stunning part was the lady who wanted "no extreme lifesaving measures." She got a colonoscopy, a pap smear and was vistited by 25 specialists before she died. All of them billed medicare for their services.
Why the fuck does a woman in her 80's need a pap smear?
Nov 16
wisepunk commented on
Zambian Porn.
I think something is wrong with the left rear leg. Too many bends there. Ouch
Nov 4
wisepunk commented on
Seattle's Crappiest Bus Route.
I was getting tired of riding the 358 every day in 2001, so I was talking to a co-worker about carpooling. Next morning I get on the bus an at the last stop before the bridge a 6 foot tall woman with red spiked hair is the last one on the bus. 830 in the morning. She announce to the packed bus full of commuters that "it smells like fuckin crank on this bus". Suddenly the full aisle parts like the red sea, and I get a full view. 3 teeth, nails through the shoulder pads of the leather jacket and built like Lawrence Taylor. She stomps to my seat and says "can I sit in yur seat?" at top volume. She smelled Iike a mix of all the cleaning products under my sink and sweat. I was carpooling the next day.