Dear Reader, allow me to confess a dirty little secret: I shop at Costco.
They’re big, they’re fat, they’re ugly — and they’ve got good stuff at good prices.
I was wandering around the mega-store today, buying stuff I didn’t need, when a very large guy walked past and muttered what he clearly thought was a dirty word: “Obamacare.”
The brute stood about 6-feet, 6-inches tall and had a serious 5 o’clock shadow.
As the word “Obama” passed his lips, he looked like he just might vomit, emptying the contents of his gargantuan belly upon my head.
The source of his disgust, Dear Reader, was my “I ❤ Obamacare” T-shirt.
Anyone who knows me knows I have some anger-management issues. (It’s a legacy of childhood trauma that I’ll share with you another time.)
I was going to call the Obama-hating lunkhead an idiot.
I was going to flip him the bird.
I was going to ask him, “Hey, asshole, what’s wrong with providing health care to everyone — even you?”
Instead, in an unusual display of self-control, I walked straight to the check-out counter and paid my $320 bill.