Socialist Canadian couple traveling in U.S. hit with $1,000,000 bill for hospital birth.
Bob-Vladimir and Amber-Anastasia KarlMarx-Jones, a Canadian couple who were traveling in the U.S. when Ms KarlMarx-Jones gave birth one month prematurely, describe themselves as “in shock” after receiving a one million dollar hospital bill for the delivery of their son.
At home in their dreary, sparsely furnished subsidized housing complex in downtown Toronto, the cohabiting comrades recollected how impressed they had initially been by the U.S. services available.
“Look, there was a Matisse poster behind the Obs-Gyn Registration Desk!” marveled Mr KarlMarx-Jones, who was already halfway through a 26-er of cheap local vodka. “And really thick shag carpet. And no sooner did our Amber-Anastasia here get those feet up in the stirrups, but it was coffee, tea or champagne, sir and even a choice of Anne Murray or Celine Dion on the speakers to make us feel at home! It was better than our actual vacation!
“It sure made a change from waiting for yer OHIP in those damp, concrete-block corridors for three days with your drug-addicted comrades and a bunch of comfort girls, ankle deep in brackish water and nothing to eat except stale saltines and a few sips of Campbell’s tomato soup! They’ve even got sheets on the beds, eh!”
But the hapless couple soon found that their luxurious private health care surroundings came with a price tag to match. Their sense of outrage was further compounded on discovering that their baby was “defective”.
“The little bugger don’t even do anything!” Ms KarlMarx-Jones said. “He just lies around on his collectively-woven blanket, kicking and screaming and blowing saliva bubbles, eh! You’d think for a million bucks he’d at least hum “The Maple Leaf Forever” or pee in your face!”
Sipping tea made from a couple of old reused bags, Amber-Anastasia admitted that the amount of the bill sounded “astronomical”, adding, “How much is that in, like, rubles? You know, in case Loblawsky has an egg this week. I better start lining up right away – Bob-Vladimir starts hittin’ the vodka real bad if I try to make blinis without eggs!”
“Da!” Bob-Vladimir piped in as he knocked back another shot, then slumped back in his chair. “Vodka good!”
How did the KarlMarx-Jones’s plan to handle this extraordinary expense? Did they have relatives? Could they do a consumer proposal? Had they spoken to their bank?
“In fact, we been talking to that American hospital just to figure out how to monetize the little shit!” said Amber-Anastasia. I mean, here in the People’s Republic, every comrade’s gotta contribute, or —” She made a little slashing gesture across her throat —”You get my drift?
“So we had a session of self-criticism and what with him being defective and all, we’ve decided we’re gonna mark him up 20% and sell him back to that U.S. hospital for stem cell harvesting!”
“Oh, dear” she continued, “I’ve forgotten my manners! Here, comrade—Would you like the honorary final lick of frosting from the foil tray that held the President’s Choice strudel?”
But it was time to wrap up and I politely declined. As she saw me to the door, Amber-Anastasia added, “Just one question. What’s a bank?”
“Da!” Bob-Vladimir piped in once again as he knocked back yet another shot, then slumped back even further in his chair. “Vodka good!”
Air Canada still refusing to cave to union demands after wing touching incident; strikebreakers to perform essential tasks, vows spokesperson.
A week after an Air Canada jet’s wing grazed the wing of a Polish Airlines aircraft on the tarmac, causing extensive damage and cancelled flights, the airline’s execs are still refusing to consider union demands for higher wages and better job security.
“We are determined not to be blackmailed by skilled workers playing the safety card!” said Air Canada spokesperson Lloyd Spackle as I joined him after yet another round of stalled negotiations.
“Instead, we’re killing two birds with one stone.
“Let me rephrase that.
“We’re increasing efficiencies by, for example, hiring workfare participants to pull the aircraft up to take-off speed, and fly the bugger, too.”
He continued, “If the ancient Egyptians can haul giant boulders up to the tops of the pyramids using nothing but a bunch of slaves, we can surely get aircraft up to aerodynamic speeds using our much more motivated, free workers of the 21st century!”
I followed Spackle for a whirlwind tour, managing to sneak in a quick exchange with one of the “aircraft pullers”. He was doing his warm-ups before he and his fellow strikebreakers attempted lift-off of a Tango budget flight to Kapuskasing.
“I reckon there’s about ten, twelve thousand of us here,” he said, chugging on a Timmies triple-triple and scarfing down a maple-glazed. “It’s about teamwork and fortitude, the great Canadian values! All we gotta remember is, let go once that sucker’s airborne!”
Next, a visit to the cockpit, where Spackle and I interrupted a young lady puffing on a glass pipe and talking on her cell.
“I’m Tiffany, are you the dude who’s been following me? Like, have you been taking pictures of me with my webcam? Like, what the fuck! Never mind, can you tell me what any of these dohickeys is for? I bet these things just fly themselves! Hey, wanna “shotgun?”
All seemed under control, yet there was something that disturbed me. Turning to Spackle, I asked if he felt that Air Canada was jeopardizing passenger safety at all—even just a little bit.
“Ridiculous! he said. “Strikebreakers or skilled employees, it’s all the same! We just charge our customers three times the airfare anyone else does. It’s our outrageous pricing that makes you all think we’re safer than the other guys!”
He continued, “Fact is, the odd crash investigation followed by a bunch of funerals is cheap compared to keeping up some goddamned safety standards no one will ever appreciate! Anyway, what’s a union worker gonna do with more money? Eight-balls of “hard”, cheap native hookers and crappy furniture from Leon’s, am I right?”
Suddenly a thousand cigarette lighters illuminated either side of the runway.
Air Canada had survived the odds to fly again! The stars were out over Pearson International and, beside the tarmac, a couple of seagulls were eyeing the jet engines with crazed expressions.
Justin Trudeau shocks Canadians with praise for “ruthless dictator and enemy of the U.S.”
White House officials decline to comment.
Canadians were shocked today on learning that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau had publicly praised U.S. President and seriously imploding autocrat Donald Trump, calling him “an OK person to have a beer with if there’s absolutely no one else who’s got the day off and the use of a private jet”.
Clearly reliving his father’s infamous “just watch me” moment, Trudeau recklessly added that Trump “…plays a decent round of golf for an overweight, flabby guy with emotional problems”, and all but gave his humiliated supporters a defiant middle finger by stating, “The Trump International ‘Stay the Weekend, Get Monday Free’ Special with the continental breakfast is not totally the worst deal, but frankly, I’d just as soon stay at the ‘Y’.”
Pressed further by reporters at his daily briefing to comment about Trump’s disastrous first term in office, evidenced by his botched health care plans, his tacit support of white supremacy and his taking the world to the brink of nuclear war with North Korea, Trudeau replied,
“Well, nobody’s perfect, eh? It’s true we don’t see eye to eye on some things. Well, OK, on anything, really. But I feel kinda sorry for the dude, he needs a male role model and I guess he’s hoping for some — well, gorgeousness by association. Can you blame him?”
Deftly changing the subject, he pulled up his right trouser leg and added, “Hey, guys, get a load of these new socks! Pink with orange polka-dots, is that, like, so totally gay or what?”
After numerous attempts, we finally reached Trump on his private line and managed to get his own unique insights into the burgeoning, yet strangely one-sided, bromance.
“Justin Trudeau? I love Justin!” he screamed. “LOVE the guy! He’s the MAN! He’s doing a TREMENDOUS job at — Canadian stuff! Maple syrup, communism! Whatever!
“And that wife of his, what’s her name! Sophie? Gregory? His wife’s called Gregory? Typical! Anyway, who cares! She’s got a pair of, take it from me, intercontinental ballistic missiles, hoo boy! Real or fake, they’ll get ya to Guam and back no problem!!”
In related news today, reports from our European bureau confirm that French President Emmanuel Macron’s wife, Brigitte, is “still looking great for a broad her age.”