Those poor, poor wives.

Not the evangelical women's clubs--they have it coming (pun intended)--but the others who'd rather their husbands left them alone.

About two weeks after the government's medical care plan was killed by new legislation, the nation found out why the evangelical women's clubs were so hot on getting it repealed that they were willing to finally play the game like the rest of us.

The one good thing about the government plan was that it required that everyone receive equal (though really poor) access to waiting lines to get treatments (unless you were dying). That was what those rancid, bitter, nasty tempered, hideous, bitches wanted to change: that everyone was treated equally (badly) under the government plan.

Yeah, they didn't like that they had to wait in line with those whose lifestyles they didn't approve of. Like those nasty whores (that help preserve their sexless marriages), those worthless drug users (who work harder to support their habits than the evangelical women do to support their own families), or those evil murderers (like yours truly).

I don't know how they did it, but the evangelical women's organizations--the Christian, Muslim, and Judaic clubs that banded together in order to do what they saw as our shared God's will--managed to get legislation rammed through that didn't show up on the political market radar until after it was passed. That legislation states that those who could pose a danger of any type, bodily, mentally, or spiritually, to the helpless, good people of the nation may not visit doctors' offices or hospitals. And yes, they even managed to get a list of those they want to discriminate against worked into the legislation. On that list are those like me, who they think pose a risk to their lives; drug users, who might be on something that makes them dangerous, or carrying a communicable disease like AIDS; prostitutes who might be carrying a communicable disease or might teach their daughters that being a sexless manequin married to a man to provide for them financially isn't their only option; or those who work in that den of iniquity that is political bribery--no one but their own, admittedly sizable, subset of the population are eligible for medical care. At all.

The national sex workers' union, lead by our local chapter (269), has declared a strike. Husbands are going to have to start sleeping with their wives, if they want sex--and since most (but not all) of Jenni's old customers were married to members of the evangelical women's clubs, that means the ones pushing the prostitutes to strike are going to be the ones who have to put out.

Those who use various recreational pharmaceuticals are also cutting back and working harder, to come up with money to apply pressure in a different area: the political options market, and bribe-able politicians and lobbyists. Those who work in that market, like my boyfriend does, are teaming up with the self-medicators to apply the pressure, since they know where the money would do the most good.

I'm sure that, if C.P.A.s could get along well enough to have a union, we'd likely be using our own unique talents to apply pressure directly to the evangelical sisterhood of self-righteous thugs. As it is, I don't doubt that agencies that don't have their own private hospitals and physicians likely are doing such on their own, without organization.

In any case, even though Jenni's retired and no longer a card carrying member of the union, she is pretty active in the management and organization of our local chapter. She's one of the ones that had a hand in the planning stages of the strike, and is working hard to keep all of the local girls in line. Thank God her husband is better at listening to her and reading the market trends than my boyfriend--between his job and her new one, they're keeping the girls striking in their apartments and fed, even if the girls are getting behind on some of their less essential bills.

Speaking of relative levels of success in the market...do you think my boyfriend would notice if I bought cheap booze and put it in the bottle he drank the last of the expensive scotch from? I'm tired of him guzzling my good stuff.