STFU Hippie, Vol. 3: Cancer Awareness

I saw a young man with a patchy, whispy mustache this week and I asked him why he decided to grow out facial hair that his genetics could not support. “I’m growing a mustache because I’m raising awareness of men’s cancer,” the man responded. I bit my tongue and I let him have his moment, but what he said was preposterous. If he told a middle-aged man to get a professional prostate massage once a year, and- TA-DA!- some whiskers magically appeared on his upper lip, then he would be growing a mustache because he raised awareness of men’s cancer. In reality, he is falling victim to an inane fad, but he learned from the Pogs debacle that it is much better to link your stupid behavior to a social cause, lest someone questions the sheep-like mentality.

Raising awareness of cancer! We live in a time where we can conjure full movies to our telephones and cars can parallel park themselves. Believe it or not, the information age has allowed pretty much everyone in the world to be “aware” of cancer. What the hell is cancer awareness supposed to accomplish? Are a few more donations going to push the billions donated every year over the top to finding a “cure?” Are the scientists researching cancer not trying hard enough and need to see your ribbon or your mustache so they know how important it is that they cure cancer? You have no role in curing
cancer, you ignorant, solipsistic, arrogant prick.

I have heard some people say that the importance of raising cancer awareness is that it encourages people to take preventative measures. There are two reasons that this logic would only convince the hopelessly stupid. First, most of these stupid awareness campaigns are ultimately fundraisers. Most of the money that is raised is used to perpetuate the cancer awareness industry through marketing and paying staff. There is some small percentage that actually goes to cancer research, but how do you think that research money is spent? It is spent on pharmaceutical trials for treating cancer, which require people to have cancer, which is directly adverse to the idea of preventing cancer. In other words, raising money for cancer treatment research provides an economic incentive for doctors and pharmaceutical companies to NOT prevent cancer, because then who would they treat? Second, how the hell does a mustache or 15 minutes of power walking raise prevention awareness? Susan G. Komen isn't racing for a cure, she's racing for self-satisfied notoriety and money. If I was a betting man- and I am- I would wager everything I own that the vast majority of men who didn’t shave in November in order to raise cancer awareness could not tell me what the appropriate screening practice for prostate cancer is. And by majority, I mean 98%. And by 98%, I mean everyone. If you fit into that category, please don’t take this as a suggestion that you should go learn th

e screening process so you can preach about it down the road. Take it as a suggestion to shut up because you’re dumb.

[RIGHT: If people who are dumb enough to think this shirt is funny are aware of cancer, then I think you can stop wearing your pink batting gloves, Jose Reyes.]

Speaking of dumb people who think they are doing a good deed but are actually accomplishing nothing, the cancer awareness bug has seemingly bit every American professional sports team. Every NFL team, bastions of public health and welfare that they have always been, seems to have added neon pink to its color scheme this year in order to… I don’t know, blend in? Further obscure the off center racing stripes on their pants? Baseball players have even taken to using pink baseball bats. If I had to guess why they think this is a good idea, I’d probably say that they think they come out even on the cosmic accounting scale when you add the benefits of the pink bats and subtract the fact that they are actively causing cancer by chewing tobacco. What possible impact could a pink towel have? Is a researcher seeing it and saying “Oh crap! I better go administer this double blind clinical trial during the seventh inning stretch?” Okay, I suppose it is fair to acknowledge that the pink memorabilia is a way to sell yet another alternate color jersey without seemingly besmirching a team’s rich heritage, but let’s do without the charade next time- we know you’re running a business.

So what do we really know about cancer? Well, cancer was first classified as an illness around 400 B.C. by Hippocrates. You might be familiar with his big hit single- the Hippocratic Oath, for which he is the namesake. Judging by his career, the oath might as well have been, “First discover cancer, then fail to cure it, then do no harm.” Think about that, we have been “aware” of cancer since hundreds of years before people decided it was a bad idea to crucify people. We have been “aware” of cancer since before there was such a thing as “paper” on which to write the word “cancer.” But it’s good to see that you have that ribbon, so I guess we’re covered. Now please shut up and shave your face.

You’re missing the point; we don’t want poor people to have health insurance

By A rich guy

The debate about health care reform goes all the way back to the Truman Administration, and Barack Obama has recently received praise for bridging the gap between liberals and conservatives through the introduction of a plan that would put the government into the health insurance industry as a competitor with private insurers that often operate as local monopolies. The problem with Obama’s so-called “compromise” is that it misses the point- opponents of universal health care do not really care about the distinctions between a single-payer system and a government-participant system; we just don’t want poor people to have access to health care. Think about it: if poor people have health insurance, they will live longer and put more of a drain on the system that I support.

What’s worse is that the health care system would have to support even more people than it already does. I went to the emergency room with a sprained ankle and had to wait amidst that sea of humanity for almost three hours before I could get in for an x-ray with the overworked ER nurse. In just that amount of time, two people came in with gunshot wounds and got to go to the front of the line. How is that fair? Would I get to go to the front of the line at a restaurant if I came in with a gunshot wound? I put in my time, and they cut in ahead of me because they are stupid enough to get shot. Imagine the indignity of waiting in line behind a poor person with a serious injury? That scenario alone should give pause to anyone considering universal health care a legitimate option.

It’s simple math, rich people are worth more to the world than poor people, so giving them the same health care options flies in the face of the American ideal. I make a six-figure salary every year, I pay my taxes, and I contribute to society. Poor people watch stock car racing and hunt. They don’t add anything to society; they just use the services that I pay for. I’m productive, damnit, I shouldn’t be subjected to funding any more welfare programs.

New studies by the Congressional Budget Office say that extending health care would offer universal coverage for a 4% cost increase over the next decade. I say that’s 4% too much to spend on the poor. It should go to more sub-prime mortgages for me to buy up and insurance on my yacht.

[LEFT- Poor people dreaming up new ways to hurt themselves and make me pay for it.]

I don’t care if it’s a single payer system, a public-private competition, or just an expansion of Medicare and Medicaid. As soon as I hear the words “universal healthcare,” I can’t help but thinking about 80-year old trailer trash grilling up chicken fingers, cluttering the newspaper’s editorial pages with letters to the editor whining about leash laws for their Dobermans, and wasting my FICA Social Security contribution on Busch Light and camouflage pants. Obama says he wants this waste-of-space to have access to the life-saving chemotherapy procedures he needs to cure his chaw-induced throat cancer. I say: why?

The New York Times recently described a health cooperative outside of Seattle as a model for the 21st century style of health care institution. I swear on my mother’s grave that I would rather die than have some tie-dyed burnout telling me to do acupuncture for my kidney stones and prescribing medicinal marijuana for my wife’s postpartum depression.

I remember years ago when my doctor would make house calls; those were the days. Back then, you never had to wait in line to see a doctor, and you never had to worry about poor people jumping in front of you because they started a firefight in the alley behind a bombed-out row house. Indeed, we’re all better off with the current system, at least those of us who matter.