by Justin Halpern
There was a time when, if you were sick,
If you had the sniffles, wiffles, or tiddly wick,
or hoos foos or derples, or dippity dover,
you could go to the doc and they'd look you over.
The system wasn't perfect — it had some rather large issues —
but it was better than hearing "Good luck, here's some tissues."
But one day came a man who couldn’t stop smilin’
He said to the folks, "Just call me The Ryan.
The Ryan is smart," he said, "The Ryan is grand,
The Ryan has read all the books of Ayn Rand.
And you may think you have care that covers your butts,
But what of the rich and their chance at tax cuts?
I have a plan, it will make you quite happy.
Now, no one read it, let’s vote — make it snappy!"
"Wait, what’s your plan?" asked the people. "We’d like to hear it.
Does it help more of us or should we all fear it?"
"Fear it, ha! It’s got all the bells and the whistles,
And we’ll still get to spend billions on all of those missiles
The plan is so simple, it’s far fewer pages
And helps all of those with the highest of wages."
“But what if you’re poor, what happens to us?
What if you need chemo and still take the bus?"
“You’ll be fine,” said The Ryan, "Just give it a try.
For instance, if you have cancer, why, you can just die!
Or pay for the treatments out of your pockets,
And live without power to all your light sockets!"
"That seems terrible," the people said, "Really quite bad."
"Yes," said the Ryan, "But it won’t make rich people mad.
And they have suffered for far, far too long,
While you’ve gone and seen doctors. Now, isn’t that wrong?
This is a win-win for all those involved,
Your plan used to have problems — now they’re all solved."
But the people seemed down, very upset.
Who wants to get sick and go deep into debt?
"Chin up," said The Ryan, "My plan is perfectly nifty,
Unless you’re a poor who’s older than fifty,
Or you’re sick or you’re broke or you’re down on your luck,
In which case I promise, my plan won’t give a fuck!"
Also by the author: Oh, the Symptoms You'll Grow!; Don't Hop on Pop: He's No Longer Insured; Horton Fears the Flu; and One Fish Two Fish Red Fish I Died in a Waiting Room