That's Health Care for All's analysis of the health-care bill passed by the Senate yesterday: It forces individuals to show proof of health coverage on their income taxes (or pay a tax penalty) while doing nothing to make certain large employers pick up more of the tab for their workers' health coverage. In other words, the bill continues the subsidies for hospital care paid by workers and employers who do have coverage for workers and companies who do not.
Adam Rosi-Kessel's cousin, up from New York, met him at his downtown office after work recently. The two went out in search of a place to sit down over a cup of coffee. They couldn't find a single Starbuck's, Peet's or Au Bon Pain that was open - after all, it WAS after 6 p.m. So they had to settle on a Dunkin' Donuts that was getting ready to close:
... I realize Downtown Boston isn't the most residential area, but aren't there other people who want to meet up after work at some place other than a bar? Isn't this supposed to be a world class city? What about all the luxury condominiums that have been built recently in walking distance to the financial district. ...
It's times like this that I have to admit feelings of New York envy.
It's not you, it's me. I've installed a new module here that, theoretically, will help strengthen the spam defenses. I don't know how strict it is, so if you try to post a comment and get told you're a spammer, please let me know.
One way around that: Create a Universal Hub account. They're free, your information gets used for absolutely nothing except to let you know when people reply to your posts (and you can turn that off) and your replies go online immediately, instead of being sent down to the waiting room, where they sit on cold benches staring at the fuzzy, blue-tinted picture on the 1980's-era TV mounted up on the wall until I get around to approving them.
The Oyster looks to be an online magazine all about Boston (guys: an "about us" page would be goodAbout the Oyster). Seems to have launched today - with a bunch of profiles and stories. Gotta love a site that has a section called Hub Schlubs.
In yet another case of New Yorkers trying to take over Our Fair Hub, Steve Bailey (of the New York-owned Boston Globe) reports that Rupert Murdoch is negotiating with the Globe to start printing copies of his New York Post on Globe presses.
If true, the news can hardly be good at the once Rupe-owned Boston Herald, Dan Kennedy writes:
A Charlestown man told police he learned a valuable lesson: If you owe $300 to your heroin dealer, he's not likely to want to wait until you get your tax refund for payment. Instead, he might start chasing you with a gun.
If you're a midget (or someone small in stature) and are looking to make some money....we are having a St Patrick's Party (great group of people) and would like to hire someone to pose as a leprechaun and serve drinks. You must be 21 + and have a great personality! Leprechaun costume a plus.You'll have a great time too! Compensation negotiable.
Erika reports Samson came out of his heart surgery in good shape:
... I'm going to have to settle for nibbling those toes for the next few days - hopefully by the weekend they'll start weaning him off all the things I don't understand, and hopefully by the weekend we'll get open eyes and that little squeak and the little lip kissing smacks I love so much. It all depends on when they take him off the ventilator. ...
... We stood in the hallway and listened to them put her on a stretcher. As they were carrying her out to the ambulence, she asked for her glasses between sobs, but they ignored her. ...
Frankie and her roommate go into her apartment and get her glasses, then head over to nearby St. Elizabeth's. Only she isn't there. Frankie goes in search of her neighbor. She is not deterred by some obnoxious hospital clerk:
... I wanted to slap this skank into next week, hop on my time traveling Huffy bike, and ride into the future to knock her right back where she came from so I could do it all over again. I gripped the edge of the help desk to steady myself, fearing that the chicken-neck I was about to give was forceful enough to send me out into orbit. Channeling a little Aretha (and yes, a touch of Jerry Springer guest), I put this woman right back into her place, citing that she did, in fact, work at a help desk, and her attitude was uncalled for, and how would she like to be an old lady lost in some bureaucratic system that doesn't give two flying fucks about her, yadda, yadda, yadda. She snorted, rolled her eyes, and was only silenced when, upon my exit, I turned around and told her that her weave made her look like a My Little Pony on crack. ...