Here I Go On My HIV Soapbox Again

After three months of bliss, my sixty something, financially comfortable, ex-married (to a woman) buddy Bill realized Jimmy, his 52 year old HIV poz, supposedly ex-methhead paramour who had led the party life most of his life was still on the shit and kicked him out. Three weeks later, Bill found his gold jewelry, valued today at somewhere around $20,000, was gone and when confronted on the phone, the shithead admitted he had hocked the gold to continue his trip to Highsville.

Right now, Jimmy’s somewhere in the French Quarter, sponging off fellow meth head buddies, so Bill’s hopes for prosecuting the fuck are growing dim. But he still got his mail, and opening up a letter from Humana, Bill discovered that the insurer had covered nineteen thousand dollars – that’s 19 with three zeros after it – of HIV meds for this loser for just the first six months of 2013. With no co-pays or deductibles.

So when I see these blissful ads and billboards down here for HIV clinics sporting beaming twenty something twinks as their clients, I start doing the math and how much all these young’ens are gonna cost US for the next forty years

And why? Because in some meth high stupor, they didn’t give a fuck how many dicks were up their bubble butts?

Somebody, namely the rest of us, have gotta pay for it. Either through higher taxes or taxes diverted from more worthy causes like education or infrastructure. Or through higher healthcare premiums for the responsible.

There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

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