It was a great day.

Now let's work on making the law even better.

standard policy in this case would have been for three separate stories to be written well in advance (one for struck down, one for upheld, and one for a mixed result) to be uploaded when needed, to hold space until a more detailed story based on the facts could be written.

Probably what happened was that an intern really did "push the wrong button."

Friday I rushed to my local emergency room showing signs of a detached retina in my right eye. They rushed me up to Wills Eye Center in Philadelphia, which is the only facility anywhere near me that could deal with it.

At the time I got to their ER I had lost 50% of the field of vision in my right eye. I've now lost about 90%.

Being trapped in their ER until 1:30 in the morning I was given a tentative diagnosis. It's not a detached retina but optic neuropathy, where swelling is literally choking off blood flow to my right optic nerve. Basically, my right eye is having a stroke. They have no idea what is causing it, and without knowing the cause they can't treat it.

Now here's the catch. They took blood work and wanted me to make a follow-up appointment to see if they could identify the cause and try to bring the swelling down to see if I can recover my vision.

However (there's always a however) I can't pay for it.

I have no insurance. I have been informed that Wills Eye Center will not take charity care. They wouldn't even quote me a goddamn cash price for the visit, not that I could pay for it anyhow! No follow-up, no blood work, no firm diagnosis, no treatment period.

America, where the poor can just go blind.

With Citizens United reaffirmed and now imposed upon the states there is only one hope left.

Ban all campaign contributions and independent expenditures.

Once you get past the primaries, all campaigns are publicly funded with equal funds going to all candidates.

It's the only real option left to save our democracy.

No prevarication, no "weasel words," no justification, no "no, but's," just a single word response "yes" or "no."

Would you tolerate a Democratic nominee for the Supreme Court who said in a confirmation hearing that "there is no Federal Constitutional right to an abortion"?

One word only: yes or no.

"There is no federal constitutional right to same-sex marriage."

To deny that she said this is a vile lie, no matter what some people here want to think.

And the fact that a Democratic President nominated her to replace the most pro-gay Justice in history is an insult I can never forgive, no matter how much else President Obama has done for us or will do for us in the future.

This is a blog post from my friend Kris Leeds, who blogs as "1 Evil Mofo." His blogs are usually full of gratuitous profanity and vitriol, but he went out of his way to make this one relatively PG.

The original version can be found at http://1evilmofo.blogspot.com/2012/06/perspective.html and is reposted here with permission of the author.

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Some of you might have read this on my blog, but there are others who won't see it there because they don't like my tone. I understand that. My tone isn't for everyone. this post, however, IS FOR EVERYONE. It does not have my trademark vitriol, and I think it's important enough that it ought to be seen. this is called "Perspective."

At about 8 o’clock this morning, my wife and I were trying to figure out what to do about cigarettes. We usually make our own, but this morning, there were about a dozen tubes left. That means, of course, that I’m going to have to go to Rite Aid™ later and get a box. Not really a big deal, the store is a few blocks away, and an easy walk, but still a bit of a pain in the ass, because I have work I have to get done today. I’m going to be chained to the computer most of the day. I have deadlines to meet. So what’s our solution? She decided to send me to the corner store to tap the ATM, grab a transitional pack of smokes in the meantime with a coupon, and withdraw a couple bucks to go get tubes later when I get the chance. It’s a good plan. Hell, I might as well take out a few more so I can begrudgingly go up to the Chop Shop on South Street and get my hair cut. I hate getting my hair cut, but part of being married means giving over aesthetic control to your wife. It’s a pain in the ass, but it has to be done, or there will be a nonsensical argument, and probably some name calling. So, off to the corner store I go.

I tap the ATM, intending to take out 30 bucks, but the damned pain in the ass thing only dispenses twenties. 20 won’t cut it for what I need today, and 40 might earn me a free dirty look from the Mrs. Solution? Take out 40, give 10 to my wife. I’d like her to eat later, too. I go up to the counter with my coupon and some cash, and wait. Why am I waiting? The shopkeeper hasn’t noticed me yet. He’s busy preparing stacks of lotto paperwork. He’s 3 feet away. He still doesn’t see me. I’m the only one in the store. My wife has to go to work. He still hasn’t seen me. I’m getting annoyed. I clear my throat, and he still hasn’t looked at me. I come to this store at least once a day, what the fuck? Come on, dude! He’s still playing with those damn lotto tickets.

As I’m waiting, and bitching in my head, a man walks in. He’s dirty; obviously homeless. His dog tags make less of a clink and more of a muted clunk, because they’re caked with who knows what. I hope he doesn’t come too close. I don’t do too well with people in general, and my experience in this city with the homeless has jaded me, even though I was one once. They aren’t like I was. A lot of them stay on the streets because they want to. They call themselves “train kids.” They go from city to city panhandling enough to get liquored up until they’re bored, and move on to the next city via train (this I know, because I had a conversation with a group of them before they demanded that I move on because, and I quote, they were “working”).

The disheveled veteran (I assume he’s a veteran, because who else in their mid-forties / fifties walks around wearing dog tags) shuffles into the store. The door is propped open, because it’s already a beautiful day. As he ambles in, something halts him. It’s the wire coming from his prosthetic arm. He has one of those old-fashioned steel and plastic harness-type hooks instead of a left arm, and one of the cables caught the edge of the door. Now I feel bad. I’m bitching about stupid, mundane, everyday bullshit, and this guy went and left his left arm somewhere halfway across the world to protect my privilege to do so. I catch myself hanging my head in shame, and no one knows why but me. I watch him turn around. I’m assuming he’s going to unhook himself, for which I’m glad, because watching this pains me. He doesn’t unhook himself.

Why?

He doesn’t have a right arm, either.

Fuck.

Not even a hook.

I want to show him some sort of respect, but how?

Somehow, I don’t think a salute is appropriate.

He does a 360, and unhooks himself flawlessly.

He’s done this before.

Many times.

As I walk by, all I can think to do is smile, tip my hat, and whisper “thank you.”

I can barely get it out.

I will never forget this morning, and I won’t be complaining about too much today.

Or just NBC?