Chuck Lorre writes:
"Perhaps I've read too much science fiction, but I can't help thinking that the way out of this protracted battle over universal health care is a good ol' Edgar Allan Poe/Michael Crichton-style plague. Who's going to bicker over access to medical care or insurance deductibles if one wet cough from a busboy kills all the rack o' lamb-eating small government advocates in the restaurant? Who's going to fight against pre-existing condition coverage when it becomes frighteningly clear that we are all, rich and poor, smart and stupid, cute and inbred, swimming in the exact same bacterial soup? I'm betting no one. Because when that day happens, helping a sick person get well will not be an act of mercy or generosity. It will be the very definition of selfishness. And if history has taught us anything, selfishness rocks the casbah. Of course, there is plenty of sci-fi literature that takes this story down an even darker path. It involves everyone with a wet cough getting rounded up at gunpoint and trucked into "rehabilitation camps" in North Dakota. A privileged young man, raised on rack o' lamb, sees their suffering and sacrifices himself in order to lead them to a free clinic in Canada. When things are looking particularly grim in their march out of viral bondage, a small government advocate smiles cruelly and says to the young man, "Where's your health insurance now, Moses?"