In Shakespeare’s Henry VI, Part 2, Act IV, Scene 2, the nefarious character ‘Dick The Butcher’ says, “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers” when describing his version of Utopia.
Now, far be it from me to be so presumptuous as to correct the Bard on a matter of such importance. After all, how many of my sonnets are still being forced down the throats of self-important MFA candidates? Only 4, that’s how many. Shakespeare has at least 7.
But this time I am going to suggest – DEMAND – a correction. Dick should say, “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. Except one.“
That one exception? The lawyer who just kicked the shit out of St. Anthony of Padua.
That’s right, Tony. You AND your stupid, rapacious, namesake hospital just got canonized right up the ass by a 5-foot-4, 20-something “Legally Blonde” wanna-be.
I should mention here that I’ve just started drinking heavily in celebration. All vocabulary, grammar, and spelling errors should be addressed to the previous sentence. (NewWifey(tm) is away on a weekend stitching retreat in support of her business. But we just chatted, and she’s now getting hammered as well.)
Yeah, so we just got a letter from our lawyer telling us that St. Anthony Shithead Hospital has agreed not only to stop trying to squeeze the financial lifeblood out of us, but we also don’t even have to pay the insurance corrected amount for the test procedure, AND they’re paying our lawyer fee. (If you’re new here and curious what I’m on about, click this.)
FUCK yeah. In your face, patron saint of Portugal. (A lovely country, otherwise.)
Amazing what a bit of letterhead can do. Our lawyer made the EXACT same argument to the EXACT same people we did before we hired her. But because the top of her written correspondence starts with “From The Law Office Of…..” instead of “From the Basement of Dangerspouse’s Mom’s House“, they snapped to attention. A few counter-offers were proposed by the hospital, offering to let us off the hook if we paid various percentages of the original bill. But our little girly-girl lawyer told them where they could stick their offers, finally demanding they dismiss the whole thing or take it to trial. St. Anthony may be a money grubbing bastard, but his lawyers aren’t stupid. They dropped the whole thing. Smart move.
I can’t tell you how relieved I am. Not because the emotional tidal wave has rendered me unable to verbalize the enormity of what I feel. It’s because the Maker’s Mark is finally kicking in and I’m starting to have trouble focusing on the keyboard. So I gotta wrap this up.
I’ll just add that there are a lot of things to love about America, Trump & Co. not withstanding. I mean, I’d stay here just for the BBQ flavored pork rinds if it came down to it. Sure beats balut. But goddam, why does the country that’s not only the richest in the world but also the one that has it in writing that its government is “of, by, and for the people”, seem so intent on killing us unless we’re wealthy? It horrifies me to imagine what would happen to my blogging buddy AnnaNotBob4 if she lived on this side of the Pond, given her and her daughter’s distressing health and economic travails. They wouldn’t stand a chance without the NHS, or a system like it. In other words, they wouldn’t stand a chance here.
I know how lucky I am here. If my friend and co-worker didn’t happen to be a lawyer, I wouldn’t have stood a chance either. Bankruptcy, and probably refugee status, would have been a very probable outcome. There would have been no respite, and all because NewWifey(tm) got sick.
So…fuck you Saint Anthony. Fuck you Shakespeare. And fuck you still Orville and Wilbur.
Alright, enough. My BAL must be 1.2% at least by now. I’m heading off to sleep the Sleep of the Just for the first time in three years. I feel like a 200 pound saint has been lifted off my shoulders.
Oh, and just for good measure: fuck you Portugal. Your patron saint is a dick. And has lousy lawyers. You’re better than that, with your eponymous wine and cork trees and pork-and-clam national dish. Drop the loser shaman already, willya? You don’t need the financial hit. (Although if he does come after you, I know a good lawyer. Gimme a call.)
Good night, kids. Stay healthy.
Oh wait – I gotta add this!
My loooooooong time blogging buddy HCatty – who now no longer blogs because SHE GOT HERSELF KNOCKED UP AND FOR SOME REASON THINKS BRINGING UP HER “LITTLE DUMPLING” IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN KEEPING ME AMUSED WITH HER WRITINGS – sent me this out of the blue:
Actually she just sent me the tote bag, but I coudn’t resist propping it with the corgi shirt I got NewWifey(tm) for Christmas (10 bonus points if you know the anime it’s from).
How stinkin’ cute is that, huh? NewWifey(tm) and I both cracked up when we saw it. HCatty was around way back when Casey The Wonder Corgi featured large in many of my blog entries, and so this was a very thoughtful and touching gift. Thank you, HCatty, I’ll never forget it. I’ll also never use it, since NewWifey(tm) has already laid claim to it. Sheesh. (BTW, I promised HCatty I’d send something back in return, out of gratitude. But I’m a man, and all men lie to women. Sorry, H.)
Ok, NOW to bed.