Comedy, Thy Name is Woman

I have no desire to watch the new Anna Faris movie, “What’s Your Number?” and my head would probably explode if I tried. The preview alone made me want to stab out my eyes. But a preview of the latest Seth Rogen Bromance immediately followed. The contrast was so startling I dropped my ice pick mid-stab.

Previews, of course, occur in flashes. Usually these flashes are the most memorable moments in the film.

In the preview for the Anna Faris movie, the first flash is of her strolling through Central Park with what looks like a Poor Man’s Ryan Gosling, eating ice cream cones and – apparently – having a conversation. The guy says, “Wow, I totally underestimated you. You lost your virginity to the puppeteer?!” -- FLASH! to image of puppeteer and back – “Hahaha.”

I mean, I ask you.

The next flash is cute, blonde Anna Faris in a hotel robe in a fancy hotel, talking on the phone. She yells, “You wouldn’t know true love if it walked up to you and tickled you on your b---“ She’s interrupted by a doorbell: Room Service! As she opens the door, she is caught almost saying “balls” in front of the help. Oh, the horror!

FLASH! Commercial’s over, and I'm left thinking, This is what’s being heralded as the Great Blonde Hope of American Comedy? You know whom this movie was written for? DUDES. You know who is heralding it as a breakthrough for female comedians? DUDES. And while we're on the subject, you know who likes Sarah Silverman's stand-up? DUDES!

I pick up the ice pick, then -- FLASH! -- a preview of “50/50” comes on the screen, starring Seth Rogen and a pretty boy who looks vaguely familiar. They are hanging out and being best friends when -- FLASH! -- the pretty one gets cancer. He is tearing up and clearly scared, and his BFF Seth Rogen says, "Come on, man, 50/50? Those are great odds! If you were a game at Vegas you'd be the best one!" Pretty Boy can't help cracking a smile, and neither could I. Then -- FLASH!-- pretty boy is gaunt, wearing a hat, but still hanging out with his best friend, Seth Rogen. They appear to be helping each other cope with a difficult situation when -- FLASH -- the commercial is over.

I've seen enough previews to recognize that "50/50" is one Giant Leap for Seth Rogen and the entire Bromance genre.

See, Seth Rogen is a regular-looking, even slightly goofy-looking, guy who has managed to surpass Ryan Gosling and his ilk as a Reliably Commercial Male Romantic Lead. Ten years ago, Seth Rogen would have been confined to the role of the fat, funny friend, but thanks to changing times, Judd Apatow, and Paul Rudd’s willingness to trade places, Seth has accomplished that Holy Grail of Marketing and Show Biz, the “Cross-Over.” Now he gets to star in a "Bromance" that is touching, funny, and true to life. The genre itself has evolved.

Meanwhile Anna Faris is apparently telling some guy that she lost her virginity to a puppeteer. I guess you have to start somewhere.

Maybe all comedic forms, including the Modern Funny Female, have to start in the toilet.

Don’t get me wrong. Toilet humor has its place. Politically incorrect, mean, awkward, gross, British – almost any kind of humor can be funny if done well.

My sole gauge for whether or not a comedy is “good” is whether it makes me laugh. Not roll my eyes. Laugh. And, let’s face it: farts are sometimes funny – in real life, anyway.

But very few comedic forms can stand alone, and toilet humor is no different – unless, of course, you’re a 13-year-old boy. Ninety minutes of gross-out works for the teenage male audience, which happens to be Hollywood’s largest and most lucrative demographic.

I’ve never been a fan of toilet humor, even as a teenager. I loved Scream and Seinfeld and the Simpsons and Office Space as much as the next kid, but I was always baffled by my peers’ affinity for being grossed-out. In “American Pie,” some guy sort of masturbates into an apple pie that his mother made. In one of the “Scary Movie” pics, somebody gets stabbed with a penis through a hole in the wall of a bathroom stall. To me, strange, but unfunny. (What was funny was hearing Roger Ebert talk about that Scary Movie. He gave it a thumb up, and when Siskel called him out, he goes, “I know, but I’m thinking, ‘Whoa, killed by a penis through a wall – I’ve not seen that.”)

I’m often out-of-sync with my peer group’s comedic tastes. For example, I was never a fan of “Borat” or “The Office.” I can feel myself dying inside when watching “The Office;” the awkwardness, for me, is painful, not funny. And Borat is just a big bully. I don’t know if you noticed, but when he goes into Inner City Atlanta and hangs out with black guys, he shuts the fuck up. It’s only in suburban America with white people that he calls people ugly and stuff, and that's like shooting fish in a barrel. I’d like to hear him tell one of the brothers his lady was homely. Now THAT would be funny.

My aversion is partly to bandwagons, but I usually show up late to the party. I discovered Season One of “Sex and the City” after the second movie came out and President Obama after he got elected. The same thing happened with the advent of the “Bromance." I don’t even remember why I finally watched “40-Year-Old-Virgin” – I must have been isolated somewhere with only that DVD for entertainment – but I was absolutely thrilled to find myself laughing! It was for guys about guys, but there was more to it than farts and masturbation and painfully awkward situations. I thought it was funny.

Then, one day, when I was (admittedly) hungover, I turned to OnDemand and noticed a movie called “The Hangover.” Overcoming my anti-bandwagon tendencies, I watched it, and let me tell you -- I haven’t laughed so hard at a movie in years. Sitting there, by myself, laughing out loud, even laughing so hard I cried -- THIS was a truly great comedy. I’ve since watched it again several times, and while the hilarity of the first viewing can never be fully recaptured, the movie consistently makes me laugh.

In this movie, the fat, funny friend, Zach Galifinakis’s character, was revolutionary, too. After years of co-dependence, comedy had broken free from curse words. In “The Hangover,” the joke was that the guy didn’t curse. Turns out it’s funny to hear a grown man say, ”I fudged up guys!” It's also, to me, a more challenging kind of humor. (Like making fun of middle-class white people, cursing is, in my opinion, often a comedic cop-out.)

Through what was clearly an evolutionary process, the Bromance has become a gender-neutral comedic genre that could be slapstick or sophisticated. The evolution continues with “50/50.”

So maybe "What's Your Number?" is a small step in the evolution of female-centered comedic film. But it may very well be a Giant Leap from “Bridesmaids,” which I also read about and opted not to see.

Apparently something involving masturbation happens in a bridal store.

I really didn't want to know.

It's a Chihuahua, Not a Choice

Walking around North Dupont tonight, I saw dogs lined up right alongside the bicycles. Parked there, waiting for their supposed best friends. The little guy was hoarse but still barking, while one of the big guys was starting to freak out, too. The third one was tied super close to the railing, so close that he couldn’t move much. But he hadn’t been trained to sit still; so he was struggling and jerking his head.

And this is North Dupont? Home of the Enlightened & Tolerant White Progressives – among whose ranks I proudly count myself, even though I live on Capitol Hill. North Dupont and I are on the same page except for a few things. One, there’s the “Stop Bitching. Start a Revolution” folks who stand around in black T-shirts that say “Stop Bitching. Start a Revolution.” Occasionally I point out to one of them that what they are doing there, standing around, is effectively bitching and not starting a revolution.

Two, I think it makes more sense for society to abolish marriage and embrace the “domestic partnership” than vice versa. Marriage as an institution has deteriorated in direct proportion to the extravagance of the average wedding. Weddings are fun, and great photo opportunities, but divorces are decidedly neither. The Wedding Industry may have replaced the Auto Industry in terms of power, but divorce seems to leave everyone financially devastated. And make no mistake -- gay marriage comes with gay divorce. It’s a “package deal,” like a single mom on a date. I hope you’re ready to buy a car seat for someone else’s kid.

But North Dupont in general? I love it. I go to the Hair Cuttery there and the tanning bed there. And if I am anything, I am an Enlightened & Tolerant White Progressive. I am also a person who cries at those polar bear commercials and treats her Kitty like a roommate who pays rent (which she definitely does not).

I was shocked to see a Doggie Parking Lot there in North Dupont, in front of the Sweet Grass (or whatever it’s called) organic frozen yogurt and (I think?) salad place. Starbucks trading fairly across the street, while these dogs suffer on the sidewalk?

When did walking the dog become synonymous with running errands? Is it some kind of hip, trendy thing? Is it okay to get a dog if you don’t have time to walk it? Is it something New Yorkers do? Because if New Yorkers do it, they should be ashamed of themselves. They know they set the standard for White Coolness. They should be a little more responsible about it.

Yes! I lay the responsibility for the Doggie Parking Lot on Manhattan’s storied doorstep! North Dupont, my friends, you have been led astray. Patrons of Whole Foods on 14^th Street, you, too, are victims of these hoity-toity Doggie-loving Brooklyn hypocrites!

Now that that’s settled, I can’t decide if the Doggie Parking Lot is an outrage or a business opportunity. God knows the job market is killing me right now, and what’s a parking lot without an attendant? The Doggie Attendant would be a hybrid of the parking attendant and the bathroom attendant, because I would provide water and treats for the dogs, while interacting sort of invisibly with the public, and there would be a tip jar, which some people would honor and others would ignore. The bathroom attendant is second only to the homeless person in eye-contact avoidance. Some people would slink away, while others would slip me a dollar. I could even make a T-shirt that says “Life is Ruff!” and hang a sign on the (inevitable) tree. “Doggie Attendant.” I could put a water bowl in the (inevitable) little fenced-in flower bed around the (inevitable) tree.

Sitting here, now, cozy with my cat and my laptop and my Law& Order reruns, I envision myself conducting a Great Doggie Attendant Experiment on Saturday and then writing about it.

Okay, so I already bought the poster board.

If the Great Experiment doesn’t pan out, I’ll make a bunch of signs that say things like, “It’s a Chihuahua, not a Choice” and “Life is Ruff! Be a pal.” I always pause to comfort doggies in distress. When their thoughtless owners wander back, I give them Meaningful Looks. Now I’ll also hang up signs. Basically I’ll stop bitching and start a revolution. Feel free to help me. I think our best bet for the signs is, “A dog is not a bike. Don’t park your dog.” But if you decide to do a T-shirt, go with “Life is Ruff!”

That is just catchy.

I don't love going to the opera, but I do love listening to magical music like Habanera, from Carmen. I included the first clip because it shows the scene in context and includes the chorus, which might just be my favorite element of the whole. But I included the Maria Callas clip as well, because it's a) such a superior performance and b) it's amazing the way she can evoke the whole scene without moving a step. It's much easier to appreciate the richness of the music without all the moving around.

Beauty like this reminds me that to be alive is worthwhile.

Such Transcendent Poetry, Part II:

Dante's "Divine Comedy" is presented in three parts: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradisio. In the Inferno, the most famous of the three, Dante the Pilgrim (still alive) invents the modern paradigm of "Hell," with its fires, demons, penitents -- and horror.

In a particularly chilling episode, Dante the Pilgrim witness a quintessentially hellish punishment. In "Hell" as we normally envision it, this is the exactly the sort of thing we would expect to see. Reading it gave me goosebumps:

From Canto XXV, the Inferno

Note: I've italicized my favorite bits.

Now if, my reader, you should hesitate

to believe what I shall say, there’s little wonder;

for I, the witness, scarcely can believe it.

***

The wounded thief stared speechless at the beast,

and standing motionless began to yawn

as though he needed sleep, or had a fever.

The snake and he were staring at each other;

one from his wound, the other from its mouth

fumed violently, and smoke with smoke was mingling.

***

The smoke from each was swirling round each other

and turned into the member man conceals,

while from the wretch’s member grew two legs.

The one rose up, the other sank, but neither

dissolved the bond between their evil stares,

fixed eye to eye, exchanging face for face;

the standing creature’s face began receding

toward the temples; from the excess stuff pulled back,

the ears were growing out of flattened cheeks,

while from the excess flesh that did not flee

the front, a nose was fashioned for the face,

and lips puffed out to just the normal size.

The prostrate creature strains his face out long

and makes his ears withdraw into its head,

the way a snail pull in its horns. The tongue,

that once had been one piece and capable

of forming words, divides into a fork,

while the other’s fork heals up. The smoke subsides.

The soul that had been changed into a beast

went hissing off along the valley’s floor,

the other close behind him, spitting words.

For full effect, you should read Canto XXV in its entirety. http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Divine_Comedy

"Dude, exactly:" Such Transcendent Poetry, Part I

I have always sought solace in the arts. My "break-up routine" has evolved over the years to include a specific playlist of songs, a specific menu of comfort foods, the fetal position, and T.S. Eliot's epic poem "The Wasteland:" This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang with a whimper.

Dude, exactly.

Like exercise and sex, great poetry can stimulate dopamine production in the brain, triggering a burst of good feeling.

Watching Timon of Athens, I was once again mesmerized – spellbound – by the hypnotic language of Shakespeare. This play was new to me, so I was especially thrilled to experience a "dopamine moment" during Act 3, Scene 4 of the action.

After frittering away his fortune on gifts and parties for friends, Timon of Athens sought help from these friends, only to be thrice denied. The rejection destroys him. He takes up residence in a cave, strips naked, and lives off the “roots” he finds in the earth. Then, in an interesting twist, he finds an abundance of gold in the ground. His misanthropy is so far gone, he recoils from the gold:

"Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold!

No, gods, I am no idle votarist:

Roots, you clear heavens! Thus much of this will make

Black white, foul fair, wrong right,

Base noble, old young, coward violent.

Ha, you gods, why this? What this, you gods? Why, this

Will lug your priests and servants from your sides,

Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads.

This yellow slave

Will knit and break religions, bless th’accursed,

Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves

And give them title, knee, and approbation

With senators on the bench. This is it

That makes the wappened widow wed again;

She whom the spital house and ulcerous sores

Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices,

To th’ April day again. Come, damned eart,

Thou common whore of mankind, that puts odds

Among the rout of nations, I will make thee

Do thy right nature.”

Here are echoes of Hamlet’s great soliloquies; here is a universally relevant analysis of gold and its power.

Later in the scene, Timon cries out against the gold again:

“O thy sweet king-killer, and dear divorce

‘Twixt natural son and sire; thou bright defiler

Of Hymen’s purest bed; thou valiant Mars;

Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer,

Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow

That lies on Dian’s lap; Thou visible god,

That sold’rest close impossibilities

And mak’st them kidd; that speak’st with every tongue

To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!

Think thy slave man rebels; and by thy virture

Set them into confounding odd, that beasts

May have the world in empire!”

I mean, exactly.

Some speculate that Timon of Athens was never staged in Shakespeare’s time, but this is what I seek: amazement, joy in beauty, joy in quality. That someone could create (could write) something so beautiful beggars the mind, and affirms my faith, my joy, in being alive to enjoy it. The rhythm of it is wondrous as well, capable of carrying me off into a world of imagination, that transcends all momentary hurt.

If I Ran a Health Insurance Company

Dave, listen, I used to run a non-profit. I can wring water from stones… Well, that’s why you brought me in, to show you how it’s done… Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious, really… But seriously, the priority with this one is to raise $X million without raising rates, right? I can find you $X million in 45 minutes. I mean, this budget is 18 pages of ...

Well, first off, why does Chris need an executive assistant and an administrative assistant? I mean, Carol’s a machine, she does most of June’s work anyway…. Well, I never see her at her desk…. No, we do need them, our work-flow is constant throughout the year…. Let’s revisit that, ok? And I think we should consolidate secretaries.... Absolutely. Just because you’re a VP does not mean you need a secretary, I can tell you that from personal experience… No, I say one secretary per division…So if things get backed up we bring in a temp around year-end. Kelly is so desperate for our business, we could probably pay them in animal crackers. Why do we have X goddamn VPs anyway?... All right, all right, hands off that one…Here, everybody gets a temp budget, see?

Except Legal. What the hell are they doing -- you're telling me Randolf & Heard billed us X00 hours last year? Why do we even have a legal division? They’re all attorneys, for Christ’s sake, why are they bringing in attorneys at $300 an hour? $450 an hour? Jesus, Dave, what are we running here, a law school?...

Yeah, and I think we should put the audit out there, too. I know, but we’ve been using them for 5 years and they’re just going through the motions at this point… Because they’re supposed to be auditing us, Dave… $X million is reasonable. On the low side, but reasonable…Because you don't decide "Undercover Boss," Dave! And I'm not sure you even get paid anything...

Whoa -- Karen’s doing 8 campaigns again next year? Somebody needs a reality check. Eight separate campaigns! Jesus, and all those brochures she’s got stashed everywhere? ... For one thing, she starts from scratch every single time... I think we should look at which campaigns have been most effective in the past and bring those back. That saves on creative hours. And no more creative consultants for Karen! She has a graphic designer on staff, what the hell is he doing?... We should find some way to re-use this stuff we have left over, too – I don’t want to see 12 boxes of 16-page glossies sitting downstairs by Karen’s desk, ever again.

Here’s what we tell the staff: One, we are not paying out for vacation time. Use it or lose it. And we’re not getting new copiers this year -- scratch that one right out… By the way, the winning cost-saving idea was Meredith’s... Yeah, if you shake the cartridge it will last another 50 – 100 copies.... You know, Dave, some people think “Every little bit helps" ... The idea came FROM the people, Dave! What are they gonna do, walk? They’re holding on to their jobs for dear life like everybody else… Right, like you, sure…Once we do the first round of layoffs nobody will say a word…Yes, layoffs... Well, I would start with VPs...

Then let’s get every single goddamn VP in here and tell them they have to downsize 1 position… Let them figure it out, what are they getting paid to do? Everybody’s team could use tightening, I’m sure… Oh come on, think back to your team-leader days, there is always a weakest link… I don't like it, either Dave, but would you rather piss off X number of employees or X million subscribers?... You're going to have to make some tough choices..

Except for the holiday party, that's an easy one... I’ll tell you what we do, we do like every other goddamn company in the Northeast/Atlantic and have it here… Catering? No… Get Meredith and what’s-her-name to organize a potluck, they’ll be all over that…. I don’t know, Dave, you take ‘em to lunch and you ask ‘em. They’ll be yours for life. … Because that’s the sort of thing I notice, Dave, I’m a people person… and a woman – ha ha!... I take it back, I take it back!... We can even provide beer, wine, and punch, and boom! You’ve got a Christmas party… Holiday party, sorry… No more going to the Marriott and everyone getting drunk and laid at company expense… You know what I mean...

Hello! another easy one, no more coffee, tea, hot chocolate in the break rooms. What are we, at church?...

Quit bitching, Dave, it's 1 lunch, 2 hours of your time…If you had any idea what I do around here...

Maintenance can do the bathrooms everyday, and the whole place every other day, nobody will even notice… Get that guy Phil to organize an office clean-up ... The one who’s always bitching about going green…. Have him set something up, like, I don’t know, everybody has to do x,y, or z before they leave…. I’m not saying you have to do it that way, I’m brainstorming…

No, let's talk about the executive retreat, because that goes up every year... Chartering a jet to Cancun? For ALL those VPs? ... Well, Beth has that huge place in Martha's Vineyard, why not go there? And charter a bus. Why are you looking at me like that?...

You're really going to hate this one, then -- leasing an executive fleet? I cannot justify that. … For one thing, you’ve got X fucking executives! They’re all getting car privileges, all the time? Nope, cross it right out… Sure, sure… Okay, X vehicles, okay? X vehicles, X drivers -- for you, me... Yes, me. I have to go to Regional twice a month, those people can't cope on their own... you, me, Hartson, Jean, Barry and whoever takes Oversight…Pharmaceuticals, fine… God, don’t get me started, that one’s on you, my friend.

Oh, for the love of… Dave, stop. Fine. I’ll take them to lunch. But you owe me.

Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow… You’ve got Sales at 10 a.m. and please don’t forget, we’ve already rescheduled twice…. I’m just going to finish up your PowerPoint and send a fax and I’m headed home. Listen, Janie’s off tomorrow, so I’m on snail-mail, ok? Snail-mail goes through me tomorrow, if you can please try to remember that… Dave, turn your office light off, please! Reception doesn’t have to do everything, you know.

Thanks to Obama, I am going to vote for the first time in 10 years

People who know me are often surprised to hear that I haven’t voted since 2000. It’s not something I’m proud of. This is not meant to be an apologia or a defense of myself. It’s meant to demonstrate further just what President Obama has meant to me.

It wasn’t (all) laziness. It was a boycott.

My parents aren’t from the South, but I grew up in Arkansas, where my family fell into the category of “Yellow-dog Democrats” – people who would vote for yellow dog as long as he was a Democrat! My stepdad drives around with a stuffed donkey in his rear window. Like most kids, I shared my parents’ views.

Like everyone my age, I grew up hearing, “Every vote counts!” and learning about all the people who had fought for the right to vote. I grew up with political discussions around the dinner table and the daily newspaper spread all over the house. I loved current events so much I majored in journalism in college. When Bill Clinton ran for President I volunteered at one of his local campaign offices. I was super pro-choice, and in college I was able to help with that cause, too.

I suppressed the sneaking suspicion that my vote wasn’t as valuable as someone’s in Ohio… or Florida… I was part of the system -- with all its flaws.

Then 2000 happened. As someone raised to believe in the system, someone who was so deeply proud of the United States, for all its ups and downs, someone who got into deep political discussions with everyone from my sorority sisters to my cross-country coach, I was crushed by what happened in 2000. I felt deeply betrayed. And very, very angry.

Suddenly “Every Vote Counts!” just sounded naive. How could anyone say it with a straight face? All those votes in Florida didn’t count. They didn’t GET counted. I’m sure some of those people thought of voting as a civic duty and privilege, too. And then the Supreme Court said not to count them.

What I saw was the people in power – the governor of Florida, Supreme Court justices appointed by the “other side” – deciding who was going to be president. They were going to put their guy in the White House no matter what it took. I was so angry that I started avoiding the news; I didn’t want to know. I wasn’t living at home, so I was able to avoid talking politics with my family as well. I started to dodge jury duty. It was a short leap from there to boycotting American elections.

Then I got a job in adult literacy, working in Southeast DC. That didn’t help. It didn’t help because I saw, day after day, how little it mattered who the president was. No matter what was going on in the political stratosphere, high above my head, I was still privileged and my students were still poor. The Metro kept running and I kept going to happy hours. I wasn’t thrilled about the war in Iraq, but I wasn’t angry, either – I was numb. Desensitized to all of it.

Of course I knew it mattered in an abstract, indirect way – my tax dollars, etc. But I came to believe that, regardless of who was in office, regardless of policies set or overturned, the real progress was made in one-on-one interactions between regular people. What mattered to my students were the tiny steps forward they were able to make. That’s what changed their lives.

That’s where I channeled my passion and bitterness and fury. And, sure, voting and keeping up with local politics took work – work that I no longer had to do. The whole thing made me sad. I felt like I was watching this country circle the drain, and I couldn’t do anything about it. So I tried not to think about it.

I have never been one for bandwagons. I take a snobby kind of pride in not liking whatever is “hot” at that moment, whether it’s a TV show or a presidential candidate. I waved at the Obama bandwagon as it passed by; a lot of my friends and family were on it. But I believed that not voting made more of a statement than voting did. And when I heard Obama talk about all the things he was going to do, it reminded me of what every politician said in every campaign.

I remember thinking, You talk a good game, Barack Obama, but do you really think you’re going to be able to do this stuff in 4 years? In 4 years, maybe 10 of my students will get and keep jobs. Things take time. And the partisanship in the Congress was a mess. Iraq was a mess.

Good luck.

And then President Obama slowly but surely proved me wrong. It took a while.

First, there was the stimulus package. Of the many things I saw it do – build new roads in Arkansas and Michigan; create new job training programs for my students; assist friends of mine with their mortgages – my favorite was a “BOGO” deal on AmeriCorps volunteers. My little non-profit could afford to get 2 AmeriCorps volunteers instead of 1, effectively doubling the number of students we were able to serve, even as foundation and private funding dried up.

Then, the Edward M. Kennedy Service Act tripled the number of AmeriCorps positions available in the United States, which I think is brilliant. Under George Bush, AmeriCorps programs were cut. Joining AmeriCorps was the best choice I ever made, and watching the President sign the bill at a ceremony at a Washington, DC, school, made the moment even more powerful.

Perhaps the most significant, for me, has been health-care reform. Simply put, health care reform saved my ass. I was in an impossible situation and completely amazed when the federal government came to my rescue.

That’s what really brought me back to life. The president had done something that made my day-to-day life better. He didn’t have to take on health-care reform first. He could’ve done something else, something that people weren’t scared of. But I guess he knew there were people like me out there who couldn’t wait. I started to watch the news to find out how he did it. I blew up at some LaRoche people with their “Obama-as-Hitler” signs. I went to Jon Stewart’s Rally to Restore Sanity.

Like a lot of other people, I had become unemployed. I saw the president stand up for me again. He said, If you’re going to extend tax breaks for the wealthy, you have to throw everybody else a bone, too. My extended unemployment benefits have made it possible for me to stay in DC, and I am determined to do everything I can to give back to my city.

And, even though I still have my doubts about the integrity of American elections, I know I owe it to Obama to take 2 hours out of my day and vote for him. It won’t matter much, but it is the right thing to do. It does matter who the President is.

I am part of the system -- with all its flaws. I am a voter, with all my flaws. I’m an American, and that means something to me again.

Pt 3: "It wasn't me, Deborah; it was the President"

Here’s the bottom line (details in earlier posts): Before health care reform passed, I was paying $220 a month for health insurance and getting nothing for it. Specifically:

• I paid out-of-pocket to get my teeth cleaned, even though I had been paying for dental, because of an insurance company mistake!

• I paid out-of-pocket for my annual exam, because my insurance didn’t cover any gynecologists in the District.

• And now I was paying out-of-pocket for my prescription drugs because I had hit the $1,500 prescription drug maximum?

• I had no recourse. In this world, Goliath shows up with a nuclear missile. You fight, you lose. The End.

What exactly was I paying $220 a month for?

(Let me add that I have always paid out of pocket for my therapist, whom I have been seeing for years. She is an out-of-network provider. Years ago, at my old job, and on COBRA, I got partially reimbursed. Under my “open enrollment plan,” which I joined in 2005, I got nothing.)

My feeling had always been that I had to have some kind of insurance in case I got hit by a bus, but this was getting worse and worse. Besides, I was starting to doubt if getting hit by a bus would even BE covered. (Don’t even want to think about that fight.)

I had no idea what I was going to do.

See, I had two essential problems: 1) I had a pre-existing condition, depression, and 2) I was self-insured. Pre-health-care-reform, HIPAA required insurance companies to offer me some coverage, but they could charge whatever they wanted. Care First had the best plan available to me. A comparable plan from Kaiser was $574 a month, so I actually felt pretty lucky at first.

I decided to stay on the phone until I got some answers. Maybe I could upgrade my plan – almost anything would be an improvement at this point.

In a phone-bank scenario I keep calling until I get the same story twice. Everybody says something different. So I had called a couple of times when I finally spoke to a lady who – very apologetically – explained “the $1,500 prescription drug ceiling.” The insurance company pays up to $1,500 for prescriptions per year. Once that’s maxed out, the subscriber has to pay out-of-pocket.

“But I’m paying $220 a month,” I said to her.

She told me to get a generic.

“But I’m paying $220 a month,” I repeated. “I already have to pay out of pocket to get my teeth cleaned and get my annual exam. I’ve always paid out of pocket for my therapist, that’s never been covered. And now, I have to pay out-of-pocket for prescription drugs, too? What exactly does my $220 a month pay for?”

She felt for me, she really did.

“Lisa,” I said (her name was Lisa), “This is the kind of stuff pushes folk over the edge.”

She laughed and said, “You need to quit the plan and re-enroll. The health care law gets rid of the $1,500 maximum, but they don’t have to apply it to existing subscribers, like people with the old plan."

She told me what to do – fax a hand-written request to quit the open-enrollment plan, along with an application to the open-enrollment plan [sic], a copy of my ID, and my original insurance card.

It was like finding out how to get into Skull and Bones. For some reason I lowered my voice.

"Lisa," I said. "Lisa, why doesn't anybody else at the phone bank know this information?"

She said, "It's really new. Not everybody knows about it yet." After a pause, she added, "It takes a while.”

Now that rang true. It sounded like a dream, and I had long ago learned not to "hope" for anything when it came to health insurance. It was a fact of life that health insurance sucked, and that I would be victimized.

But Lisa sounded like she believed what she was saying, and at this point I had nothing to lose. So I did what she said, and went back to contemplating a prescription run to Tijiuana.

A few weeks later I got my new health care "package" in the mail. It was a big envelope with a manual and a letter that said, "Congratulations!"

I was in the same plan -- at least, it had the same name -- but when I sat down with the manual and looked for the $1,500 prescription drug maximum, it wasn’t there. Flipping through the manual, I found a section on dental. Apparently, my plan now included dental (it used to be an additional $10 a month, and an additional bureaucratic nightmare).

Later, I got another letter saying that “due to federal regulatory reforms,” they were now required to offer something for out-of-network providers if you had a referral from your PCP. They explained the procedure. I damn near fell out of my chair.

I still refused to hope. Because you don’t really know what the deal is until you’re at the pharmacy cash register.

For the past 2 months I had paid $430 for one of my prescriptions -- $430 for 30 pills (see parts 1 and 2). This was after paying my $220 monthly premium. And paying for therapy.

I read that manual cover-to-cover. Then I called in the refill and went to the pharmacy, where my $430 prescription was infamous. I’ve been going to this pharmacy for 10 years, so they know me. The pharmacy tech on duty, Deborah, looked sorry for me as I walked up.

I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers as Deborah retrieved my prescription and looked at the blue label. She usually flinched. This time, her eyes got wide.

“That’s $60,” she said.

“They covered it?” I said.

“Yeah, they sure did!” she cried.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” I yelled. “Oh my God!”

Deborah smiled. “I’m glad you got it worked out, Ms. Phillips.”

“It wasn’t me, Deborah,” I said. “It was the president.”

And I didn't even vote.

Because my president led this health care reform effort, I am now paying $186 a month and

• There is no $1,500 prescription drug maximum. It ain't allowed. My $430 bottle of pills costs me $60 a month, and I am overjoyed.
• Dental is included, which means it’s understood that I have dental – everybody has dental!
• For certain specialists (like gynecologist and psychiatrists), even if they’re out of network, Care First has to cover between 60 – 75% with a referral from my PCP.
• This was the case for several kinds of specialist, but not for everything. I went to my PCP, got a referral, and filed a claim for my therapy sessions. I got reimbursed for 3 of them – and I will, each year.

That may not sound good to you, but I was ready to take out a full-page ad in the New York Times. After all these years, I was getting something. I really wasn’t asking for much. I am paying $186 and getting something. That’s all I wanted.

It brings tears to my eyes when I think about it. It was so horrible feeling violated, and hopeless, and to have no choice, no help, from anybody. To be at the mercy of an insurance company – a largely incompetent insurance company – was horrible.

I don’t know the ins and outs of health care reform, but I do know that Care First didn’t make these changes out of the goodness of their hearts. They’re not even sending letters to inform existing subscribers about it (unless they happen to talk to Lisa, I guess).

But for those of us who were in a crisis, the federal government came through. I had no recourse, and it was wrong. What was happening to me was wrong. Nobody had to do anything. But President Obama made sure Congress did something. And he’s catching hell for it.

I defy anyone to lay out for me, in black-and-white numbers, how health care reform has harmed them. Because I was in a shitty situation that has gotten sooo much better – and they’re still making changes. They do send a letter periodically explaining some change or update brought about by “federal regulations.”

Instead of letters telling me my premium is going up, I am now getting letters telling me about improvements.

I pray that the health care reform law survives. Just in case, I’m going to start saving now.

I'll probably start voting again, too.

Health Care Reform Has Made My Life Better, Part Two

President Obama’s health care reform law has made my life better. Of course, it wasn’t just him. But he seems to be taking most of the unconstructive criticism for it. So, I hope, we can also give credit where credit is due.

I have been self-ensured for a long time, out of necessity. Self-employed, I had a “pre-existing condition,” depression, so the best deal I could get was $160 a month, from Care First.

Every 6 months or so, I got a letter saying my premium was going up, so when the health care reform law passed, I was paying $220 a month.

And getting nothing.

It was a supremely frustrating situation, especially since I’m generally very conscientious about money. I like to think of myself as a responsible consumer. But I had a friend in similar circumstances and he decided to go without health insurance when his COBRA ran out, and promptly developed gastroenteritis and now owes the hospital hundreds of thousands of dollars.

So I paid the premium and I learned to keep my mouth shut. Evidently health care existed in the same alternate reality inhabited by Comcast and Verizon. It was going to suck, it just was. You don't really have a choice.

At least, I didn't. See, I deal directly with the health insurance company.

And they don't answer the phone.

Say, for example, that, oh, I don’t know, your gynecologist moves his office to Vienna, Virginia. You don’t have a car but you do have a job and you’re going to have to take a personal day to get your annual exam.

You search the Web site for a DC-based gynocologist who is covered and can’t find one. They are all in Virginia or Maryland, miles away on the Metro. This appears to be a new development. Again, you have a job. AND you’re paying $220 a month. It has to be a glitch.

So, hypothetically, before you take a sick day and voyage to Vienna, you decide to call the health insurance company and find out what the glitch is. And let’s say you, oh, for example, sit on hold for 45 minutes and then get “transferred to somebody who knows the answer,” only to wait 45 more minutes before somebody else picks up and says, “Care First, how can I help you?”

I don't know what you would do, but I eventually gave up. It was part of the parallel universe in which "9 a.m. to 4 p.m." is a "service window." Fighting it was a waste of time and energy. I went to Planned Parenthood (a few blocks from my office) for my exam and paid for it myself.

So let's say this sort of “glitch” arises fairly regularly and you can’t call to ask questions because you have PTSD.

Around the time the health care reform law was being debated in Congress, I finally went to the dentist for a (long overdue) annual cleaning.

But first they looked me up and said I didn’t have dental. I assured them I did, in fact, have dental, that there was a line on my bill each month that said "Dental" and "$10." I called the insurance company and waited on hold for 15 minutes before the receptionist said, “Ma’am, do you still want the appointment?”

For the cleaning, check up with an actual dentist, and x-rays, $435.

You think you would take a stand or do something, but you know what will happen if you call. Just like you know what happens if the technician doesn't show up in the given service window -- you take another day off and wait for him again.

I said to hold the x-rays and the dentist and arranged to pay the rest in installments.

Just two months later, I was charged $430 for one of my prescriptions. It must have been “the straw,” because I did not pay the money. I went back to my office and called Care First. One of the janitors, leaving the building, was surprised to see me in the hall. “I thought you left for the day,” he said.

“I have to call Care First,” I told him.

“God help you,” he said.

To be continued...

Health Care Reform Has Significantly Improved My Quality of Life, Part One

President Obama’s health care reform law has made my life better.

The frustrating abstraction that is government and health care reform and pharmaceutical companies is not something I feel compelled to master. But I can give you a truthful account of what happened to me.

I have been self-insured for a while, and it has been pure hell.

Before health care reform passed, I was paying $220 a month and getting nothing for it.

Now, thanks to the Obama-led health care reforms, I’m paying $186 a month and getting something.

And I didn't even vote.

After health care reform passed, I was advised to re-enroll in a new version of the same plan, because Care First had “made some changes” to it.

I have gotten several letters over the last several months “advising” me of changes in my health insurance plan. Some of them are technical and not very interesting.

Some of them have changed my life -- for the better.

In September, after paying my $220 premium, I had to pay out-of-pocket for a prescription: $430 for 30 pills.

I take medication for depression. I have since college. I got a new prescription last year for a new drug that has really helped me a lot. After a couple of months on the drug, I was suddenly charged $430 for the bottle of 30 pills.

What happened? I had hit my insurance plan’s “$1,500 prescription drug maximum,” which I had never done before. Apparently, my insurance covered up to $1,500 in prescription drug costs, which was fine when I was taking generic medication.

Now, I was on a brand name drug, and $1,500 was chump change.

My doctor thought the patent had expired; after some research, I discovered that it was supposed to expire in 2010 but the FDA extended it for 5 years in exchange for the drug company doing some research study.

Not only that, this particular medication was part of a “first generation” of new drugs – (“That’s why it’s working so well for you!). There are no generics yet.

I was paying $220 a month. For nothing.

It was a difficult decision for many reasons, and you might not agree with it, but I decided to pay the $430 until I could figure something out. I tried to get the drug free from the company but my income was too high. I looked at some online pharmacies, but their prices were no better (and somehow I got the impression the drugs were coming from India anyway). I harassed my doctor until he tried to get a better price for me – and failed. I contemplated a trip to Tijuana. I paid for August and September and kept calling my insurance company in a futile attempt to stand up for myself.

Imagine my shock when the federal government came to my rescue.

Finally, one of the times I called Care First, a woman advised me to enroll in the “new old” plan.

I was sure it wouldn’t work, but I was so desperate I actually gave it a shot.

And guess what? In my "new old" plan, THERE IS NO $1500 PRESCRIPTION DRUG MAXIMUM.

I now pay $60 a month for my brand-name prescription. And $186 for my health insurance.

Which, by the way, now includes dental.