In 1984 I was at a crossroads somewhere in County Durham in the north of England, a solo tourist with nothing much to do. I was dropped off by my English hosts, to fend for myself while they tended to their jobs. After a few hours of perusing Durham Cathedral, checking out Saint Cuthbert’s shrine and the tomb of Saint Bede the Venerable, the major attractions, I wandered through the surrounding cemetery and assorted monuments.
It is becoming the accepted view, despite the occasional contradiction and naysayer, that Washington and its government does not have enough money. It needs to tax more, tax higher and tax soon, and if properly done it will skim off the top and inject into the bottom.
I am sorry for this tardy review of a movie a year old, but what I saw has my brain locked in a fit of obsession. It is driving me crazy. I know of no way to break it without confession. I must save myself.
I am a midterm baby boomer, and as such I spend too much time thinking about health care, mostly about how much it costs. As a baby boomer I have grown and aged in a kind of charmed bubble, where nearly everyone was my age or close to it, and we were all thinking about the same things. It seemed that way, anyway. Shared topics followed the typical life progression, I think, starting somewhere around 1975 — sex, college, stereo, job, spouse, house, mortgage, children, school, college, debt, 401(k), keep ...