(NOTE: I posted this earlier without proofing it because, as ever, I had a puppy emergency. Lu is back from the vet with a slightly wounded paw and thankfully, she's fine. As has been the case  again and again since she and Lettie arrived, only my writing was seriously injured. But youth must be served and believe me, it is around here.)

Last night Rudy Giuliani was on his private jet, headed from Missouri to NY and not feeling well. Somehow he was put in communication with his doctor back in the Big Dumpster. (I don't know about you but I don't think I'm allowed to use a cell phone on my private jet.)

Anyway, Giuliani was told he should get to a doctor quickly so his private jet was turned around and flown back to Chesterfield, Mo.. Upon landing, he was rushed to a  St Louis hospital and admitted.

Like Giuliani's appeals to voters, all of his tests were negative but he was kept overnight anyway.

Is there a better example of top-heavy health care in this country than Giuliani's bout with the flu?

The average sap can't get a doctor on the phone, much less make the call while in flight from a private jet (as was reported on CNN, the New York Times was more vague about the timing of the call).

The average sap has to get himself to the doctor by conventional means rather than take private jet to a private airport to a chauffeured vehicle to the front of the line in the hospital's waiting room where no waiting is required if you're Rudy Giuliani.

The average sap is subjected to a cross-examination that only considers his fiscal health before he has any chance of seeing a doctor. This process can take hours and often does.

By the time the average sap gets any actual health care, Giuliani has changed his hospital gown three times and had his makeup redone twice.

The average sap is sent home from the hospital on the day of many serious surgeries to cut costs for the insurance rackets. But elite slimebags like Rudy Giuliani are given deluxe quarters and round-the-clock treatment for a case of the sniffles.

The average sap is lucky if he gets a paid sick day when he gets the flu. Giulian's fundraisers will go on without him today.

The average sap still wouldn't even think about going to the hospital with the flu.

The average sap would probably suck it up, go to work and hope he could shake it off.

And exactly who is supposed to support Rudy Giuliani for president?

The average sap.

Happy Holidays!

I was talking with Dennis Perrin last week and he mentioned how he's encountering much harder edged holiday greetings this year.

Being something of a recluse who is generally unavailable for greetings, I took him at his word.

But then I noticed a posting on a literary list to which I subscribe. The author of the post is reactionary cur who unabashedly carries the "Hey, I'm an oppressed white guy who is suffering through the continued indignity of living in a society that is, at latest count, only biased on my behalf 96.9 percent of the time. What has happened to the America we once knew?" banner. Boy, are his arms tired!

Of course this moron proudly labels himself 'politically incorrect.' Self-proclaimed 'political incorrectness' is the latest last bastion of scoundrels. It requires fighting for a cruddy status quo by labeling oneself as a courageous and lonely rebel.

The guy on this lit list never misses a chance to offend almost everyone. He actually used the forum to employ the incredibly racist phrase, "that's mighty white of you" when praising someone else in the e-mail literary exchange. I did not let it pass without comment.

This week in a post that should have been sent privately to another member (which describes about 99 percent of his offerings) he managed to insult a renowned curator of a great author's papers as well as one of the finest contemporary scholars examining the same writer's work.

He implied these two people had "stolen a kiss in a closet." This was because one of the academics is a woman and this clown can never mention a woman without first placing her in some sort of cheesy context. On this jagoff's website, he makes a point of bragging about his conquests of females.

Now understand that this guy is the acclaimed author of several unpublished novels. I get the distinct impression that he lives in a rented room, in a trailer. But women just can't resist him! That's what charm and success will do for you.

And by the way, his photo on his website betrays a distinct resemblance to the the late actor Victor Buono. Hubba! Hubba!

But back to the point. At the end of this disrespectful, needless and stupid e-mail he adds a hearty, "Merry Christmas!"

This on a list concerning an author who was a lifelong critic of organized religion -- in particular Christianity. This on a list with members all over the world from every possible ethnic and religious background.

I just know this clown is sitting around fretting about the alleged war on Christmas.  But I still wouldn't have picked it up without Dennis's pointer and some recent experience viewing RFD television (to ogle the train wreck that is the new old Anus in the Morning Show). On RFD they wish you Merry Christmas every time they mention manure futures.

If the commercialization of Christmas weren't bad enough, now the fuckers have politicized it. Combined with the sped up primary season  Politichristmas led to holiday commercials from presidential candidates. I'd rather watch footage of open wounds festering than see Hillary Clinton or the braying goober Huckabee or any of the rest of them wishing me seasonal tidings.

I'm hoping  this will lead to Christmas attack ads. "Without Senator Clinton's devotion to so-called "free trade," our children wouldn't have so many toxic toys under our trees this year." That would be much better than watching these clowns break out Fred MacMurray's wardrobe, rent a dog and a few kids and paste on a phony grin to tell us that we're all they're thinking about at this most sacred time of the year.

So, like I said, Happy Holidays.

===

Oh yeah, my year in review piece On the National Affront is in the current Boston Phoenix. Due to a series of  ridiculous events, I never even saw the final draft. I'm a tad disturbed over this. Despite my artistic injury, it should hand you a laugh or two