Tag Archives: rant

States Can Seize Assets to Recover Medicaid Costs


Is anyone else alarmed by this? The original story at Hot Air tweeted by Grerp caught my eye:

So, here’s the deal. There used to be a provision whereby the state could recuperate funds spent on a Medicaid patient post-55 years old from whatever assets he owned. So, a low-income individual in nursing home care after age 55 might pass away and his kids would find out the family home or car of whatever he had to his name had to be bought back from the state if they wanted it. It’s called estate recovery, and sounds pretty shady if it’s not boldly advertised as the terms for Medicaid enrollment, which is most definitely is not.

Before the Affordable Care Act’s Medicaid expansion, there weren’t that many people in Medicaid who had much in the way of assets for seizing. But now that Medicaid enrollment requirements have been relaxed, more people with assets but low income are joining the program or being forced into it. For instance, a couple in their 50s who, say, retired early after losing jobs in the bad economy may have assets but show a very low income. Under Obamacare, if their income is low enough to qualify for Medicaid, they must enroll in Medicaid unless they want to buy totally unsubsidized coverage in the now-inflated individual market.

This website has a 50 state look at Medicaid expansion, This US Department of Health and Human Services website spells out the 1993 Estate Recovery Mandate, and here’s another website explaining how this works under the Affordable Care Act of 2010.

I love how the mandate is so ambiguous and open-ended; they can recover costs: “At State option, any other items covered by the Medicaid State Plan.” Any other items. Nice.

The Lost Art of Lying


I’m a terrible liar; I learned early in life that I was no good at it, so I gave up trying. The problem is that the truth just pops out most of the time. The one thing I don’t have a problem with is lying to authority figures. In high school, I was extremely good at coming up with fantastic stories on why I missed a class. I got so good at it that I pretty much skipped school constantly with no repercussions.

The reason I’m bringing this up is the looming switch from paper medical records to a digital database under Obamacare. Now, there have been all kinds of reports saying that doctors are required to ask you if there is a gun in your home or how many sexual partners you have had or are currently having. I’ve read conflicting stories on the NRA getting most of the most damning language out of the new law, and I really don’t have time to research the whole topic, so I’m not going to delve into that.

The main thing is that now there really is a permanent record. You say something once to your doctor and it is put into the database forever more. A lot of people think that doctors are there to help them and that if you don’t tell your doctor about your alcohol/drug/tobacco use, they won’t be able to properly treat any ailments that crop up because of that use. This is a fallacy.

Doctors are not here to help you. Doctors are glorified pill and surgery salespeople. Sure, there are about 10% of all doctors that try really hard to help, and they have their heart in the right place, but they still try to push statins and blood pressure medication on healthy people “just in case”. Plus, if you read medical journals from the 1970s, you will see that the medical community and their pharmaceutical overlords keep lowering the bar for cholesterol and blood pressure, so that more people can be prescribed pills.

Now that your medical records are in a database for eternity, and all your medical expenses are soon to be socialized, your bad behavior will eventually be punished. I advocate lying. If a doctor asks you if you drink, say NO. If they ask whether or not you smoke, say NO. If they ask if there’s a gun in the house, say NO. All information you give them will eventually be used to determine all kinds of things about you.

If they ask how many sexual partners you have had and you say “only my husband” then you are not toeing the liberal line of sluttitude and might be a dangerous radical. If you reply “50 or 60” then you are engaging in risky behavior and might be required to undergo invasive procedures. I think the best answer to that question is “4 but only my husband since marriage”. That is pretty ambiguous, and doesn’t raise any eyebrows. The goal here is to blend.

I do all kinds of things that are considered commonly-accepted dangerous behaviors: I sunbathe, I eat a ton of saturated fats, I intermittent fast instead of eating seven small meals a day, I shoot guns, I smoke, I drink, I drive fast, etc. There is no way I’m going to tell a doctor about any of those things. Heck, I pretty much refuse to see a doctor except when I break something or am in dire health.

Even though I am disgustingly healthy and in good shape, every time I did go to a doctor, they always wanted to prescribe me statins and blood pressure medication “just in case”. My blood pressure is very low, and I like cholesterol; my brain is the most cholesterol-rich organ in my body. I like my brain and its cholesterol, and I don’t want to take a drug that lowers that cholesterol.

How long will it be before refusing to take statins and blood pressure medication is considered risky behavior? What will happen if you defy your doctor? When doctors are government employees, how much power will they have over you? Think of doctors as if they are as powerful as IRS agents. Soon there will be three things you can’t avoid: Death, Taxes, and Forced Healthcare.

The Manosphere Is Lost: Explained

Rooshosphere by TempestTcup

I was having trouble keeping up with Roosh’s sphere position, so I made a handy chart for those who are visual learners. I guess everyone outside of the Rooshosphere are just plain old Manosphere or are Red Pill. Of course Ace predicted the splintering of the sphere into fiefdoms. Let me know if I have anything out of place & I’ll fix it!


I’ve been so busy lately, I mean sure, I still have time to hold down a barstool, but there is a lot going on right now. We had a storm a while back and the neighbor’s tree took down their crappy make-do fence and is now laying in our yard. Have they done anything to remove it? Yes, they cut down two more and left them in our yard.

These are super crappy neighbors. Anyway, it is pretty much up to us to fix this mess because there ain’t no blood in them there turnips. We could get shitty (like them), but we decided to make lemonade instead. When we moved into this house, they already had haphazardly strung a fence between some trees (the ones that are now down plus another one – we live in the old part of town and it is pretty ramshackle); we have been trying to figure out how to build a real fence.

They have about 500 tiny dogs and the most obnoxious Collie in the world, so it was going to be difficult to get a fence built, plus the fact that they were going to fight us every inch of the way. Now that it’s war, we have decided that we are going to work our way from the back to front, take down all of the trees (and stack the wood for our wood stove; Hello Winter!), clean out all of the brush and erect the tallest fence that we legally can. I’m thinking something nice like 8’ corrugated tin, lol.

We’ve also been pouring a patio section by section and we only have one final section to go. My husband mixes and I finish; it’s really good exercise (ouch). We had roofed our back porch last fall, and it already had a wall around it, so we are planning on installing some windows and effectively adding 250 square feet on to our house. This may have to happen after Vegas in October.

A month ago or so, I started being a moderator at RedPillWoman subreddit and that took up a lot of time for a little while. Now I’m actively involved with Girls Being Girls and that is taking up some of my time, and of course this blog here that has taken a back seat to my other pursuits. There are also all of my little experiments that are always running in the background.

Tonight I was planning on straining my latest batch of rice beer and fortuitously a commenter just this morning informed me that in Nepal they do a second ferment on the leftover rice (need to research what kind of yeast) with sticky raw brown sugar. I’m totally going to do this.

Phedre commented on my Yogurt recipe at GBG that she clabbers raw milk and makes yogurt with that, so of course I poured a pint of milk into a jar and clabbered the hell out of it. I’m just not sure what to do with it now. It’s sitting on the counter all clabbery.

The only other thing that I’m going to try to do soon, is start an Etsy shop for all of our old crap that parents saved for us from our childhood, with which they have now burdened us. This sounds like a good winter project. I just wish my conscience would let me discard G.I. Joes from the early 1960s. I’ve already started de-cluttering the house and we took a bunch of stuff to Goodwill this weekend.


Thoughts on NSA Data Mining


Think about it; every small company has their servers backed up to “the cloud”. The company I work for didn’t until recently, but when the dude maintaining our server retired, we hired a national company to handle our IT needs. It seemed like the thing to do; it only costs a couple hundred bucks a month & everything is backed up each night. They maintain our software & hardware, etc.

So what is on the server that gets backed up? All of our email, for one thing. All of the job quotes, purchase orders, subcontractor communications, discussions with the accountants, financial statements, loan documents, vacation requests, discussions with bankers, wire transfers, etc. God only knows the discussions the owner has with the huge national companies that make up our customer base. God only knows the discussions the receptionist has with her friends/lovers.

Stored on one of the massive server hard drives is every drawing for everything we have ever built. Every contract we have ever signed. Every piece of paper, which we wanted to keep the info but not store the hard copy, has been scanned & stored on those hard drives, which in turn are backed up to some server somewhere out there in internet land.

One of the massive server hard drives is dedicated solely to me for all of my accounting functions. Every company we have owned since ~Y2K and all of their financial data is there. Every sale of every company is there. That is where I store all of the data for all of my accounting programs, which in turn stores all of my customer and vendor info including all of their FEINs & invoices, payments, etc.

So every piece of information that a company has to have to be a company is on our servers, being backed up to what is almost certainly some sort of Microsoft backup system. You know it is. This is what the NSA IRS BLAH BLAH is going after. They want all of the small company information. Small companies are notoriously tight-lipped about their operations, but then they voluntarily throw all of their “secret” info out there online.

Sure, the NSA wants info on individuals, too. They want to be able to crucify any target with that target’s own cross, that the target put online themselves. I get that. But here’s the deal, how well are They going to be able to put it all together? I’ve been online since you had to put the phone receiver in that little box & you could only communicate with huge companies & universities. Then slowly there were different bulletin boards you could access. Remember when almost every archaic website decided to start charging for content? I think that was the very early 90s. That didn’t last long.

How many variations of me does the NSA have? Hell, I don’t even remember some of the different usernames I have used throughout the years. I’ve never used my real name. Remember the heady days of day-trading penny OTC stocks? No, of course you don’t, you were 13 years old. It was all the rage & everyone who was anyone was meeting up on the OTC pages of Raging Bull. I was there every day. What was my user name? I seriously can’t remember, lol.

What was my user name on AOL? LiveJournal? Myspace? Blogger? I used to frequent Gawker back when it hired heterosexual males & then years later when Jezebel used to actually be a site where you discussed difficult periods instead of just screeching victim feminism. What was my user name? What is my user name on Street Carnage? I’ve been on there since day 1 & have contributed numerous times. Hell, I have had long term blogs on different blogging platforms since the 1990s using various names. What are those names? Have They put them all together yet?

So, if you are out there NSA & have all my data of everything I have put out there, please send me a copy of it all because it would make for very entertaining (yet cringe-worthy) reading. Kthxbai!

Why Women Today are Fat & Unhaaaaappy


I love old cookbooks, not the ones from the fifties, although I have a couple of those, too. I love the ones that compile recipes & helpful hints from the pioneering days or the ones that are reprinted online for our viewing pleasure. I love looking at the stuff they had to do to keep a proper house back before houses had electricity.

Women got to do all day every day what I do in my spare time for fun. Right now I’m making rice wine, but back in the day housewives did that all the time with blackberry wine, dandelion wine, etc. I make my own yogurt & my grandmother used to make her own cottage cheese.

Now, to find ingredients to do most of my fun-time food projects, I have to go to the Asian market because the Asians still make things like bone broth & kimchi & rice wine. Oh and look, the Asian women are still skinny – I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fat Asian woman at the market.

I think keeping house before modern appliances was incredibly more satisfying than it is today. Back in the olden days, women did things on a daily basis that would require a degree in chemistry today. Look at these “helpful hints” from the 1887 White House Cook Book:

To Clean Brass-Ware, etc.:—Mix one ounce of oxalic acid, six ounces of rotten stone, all in powder, one ounce of sweet oil, and sufficient water to make a paste. Apply a small portion, and rub dry with a flannel or leather. The liquid dip most generally used consists of nitric and sulphuric acids; but this is more corrosive.

Polish or Enamel for Shirt Bosoms is made by melting together one ounce of white wax, and two ounces of spermaceti; heat gently and turn into a very shallow pan; when cold cut or break in pieces. When making boiled starch the usual way, enough for a dozen bosoms, add to it a piece of the polish the size of a hazel nut.

An Erasive Fluid for the Removal of Spots on Furniture, and all kinds of fabrics, without injuring the color, is made of four ounces of aqua ammonia, one ounce of glycerine, one ounce of castile soap and [Pg 567]one of spirits of wine. Dissolve the soap in two quarts of soft water, add the other ingredients. Apply with a soft sponge and rub out. Very good for deaning silks.

Holy hell, can you even get those ingredients anymore? Not that I’m going to start enameling shirt bosoms or anything, but back in the day (after indoor plumbing became all the rage) the drain was a series of foot-long clay pipes & people flushed copper sulfate down the toilet to keep tree roots out of their drains. Today you have to go to an industrial chemical company to get the stuff & you have to call ahead because they have to order it. Now everyone calls Roto-Rooter.

Taking care of the home was not only vastly more interesting, but a lot more exercise than today. If you’ve ever done laundry by hand, and I’m not talking about your delicates, I’m talking about sheets & towels, you will realize how much exercise it is. You will be huffing & puffing in no time. Have you ever churned butter? Yeah, me neither, but that is some good exercise (I imagine, lol).

Now, women sit in front of a computer all day doing busy work in their boring make-work jobs. They grab food on the way home & fill their brains with trashy scripted “reality” shows showing “glamorous” “housewives” & wonder why their lives aren’t like the ones they see on the idiot box. If only I had a spray tan! Maybe if I had a Brazilian wax! Oooo, a Carnival Cruise!

And why are they fat? Fast Food. It’s the only thing I can think of. Seriously, every old cookbook is half desserts. As a kid we had dessert almost every evening. My grandmother always had something sweet coming out of the oven. None of us were fat. It’s not sugar. They cooked all those deserts with Crisco, so it’s not industrial seed oils. There was wheat flour in all those deserts, so it’s not the wheat.

Fast food is making them fat, but not necessarily because of the nasty ingredients, but because they don’t have to work for their food. It is abundant, so they can get a Big Mac on the run & eat it in the car on their way home to sit in front of the boob tube while perusing facebook.

Tl;dr: Women today are boooored because they are boring & they are fat for the same reason.

Benefits to being a Ne’er-Do-Well


Not that I’ve ever been a ne’er-do-well; I’ve just seen them from afar & delighted in their glory. Some of my best friends are ne’er-do-wells! I’ve always been the dependable one. the stodgy one. The one everyone relies on. That’s even what I do for a living – I am a physical presence in the building & the person that signs the checks & does the math. My work place knows that I will be there unless I am in the hospital. I’m THAT person, unlike my more colorful brethren.

But I can totally see the beauty in NOT being THAT person & am moving towards that goal more & more every day. A couple of years ago I realized that being dependable puts me at a distinct disadvantage in the world of today. No one seeks out the dependable person to party; everyone seeks out the dependable one to help them move their stuff. Being fun >>> being dependable.

Say you are always on time, what happens when the ne’er-do-well is late? You are the one stuck waiting. If they flake, you are the one flaked on. Does the ne’er-do-well wait for anyone or get flaked on? How would they even know? They are too busy having fun, goofing off & not paying attention to the time to sweat the details! They are the ones ignoring the phone & finishing their drunken discussion.

One of the latest situations I’ve encountered that has driven this point home was T-Mobile giving my phone number away instead of porting it to the new phone service. No one can get a hold of me; it is blissful! At first it stressed me out to no end & I fought valiantly to get it back, but then drama happened & I could not be reached & that was when I found out how awesome it was to be unreachable.

I have a lot of friends that are constantly texting me with their new numbers. How the hell do they lose their phone numbers every six months or so? I had mine for at least a decade! I always thought it was bizarre that they were forced to change numbers, whether it was from not paying their bill, ditching the girlfriend that was footing their cell bill (most likely scenario), or what. Then it happened to me & I found a new form of freedom.

My phone doesn’t ring unless it’s my husband. No one is demanding my presence. My psycho sisters-in-law don’t call to demand that we fight some insane fight they have started because THEY CAN’T!!! They don’t have our numbers & they never will again! It was when we realized that no one ever called us for fun stuff; they called us when they NEEDED stuff. Screw that. Needy people SUCK! Now we are afraid we will actually get our old numbers back…

I’ll keep my job, though; they pay me a stupid, crazy amount of money for what little I do.