Vultures normally circle their meal; in this case, your former life. But where is the location of your second life (death)? It is deep in the bowels of a computer, located in the collection deparment (accounts and balances....how kind they are to themselves!); the boiler room of any hospital. After all, it IS a business, right?
Who populates these hospital engine rooms, in every city, town and county all across the nation? Scores of "worker bees"; the usual compliment of people, wholly unconcerned with anything but production, the fulfillment of monthly quotas (the collection of monies for unpaid, hyper inflated, hospital bills), and the avoidance of a tounge lashing (or worse, a behind the door "meeting" with, and called) by "the manager", whose own professional future depends upon driving the "bees", to squeeze every last kopek from insurance companies or the Federal Government (medicare....medicad...you know THOSE terms, like your own names, dont you?).
The "bees" fight a continuous war with insurance companies and the "Federals". Neither wishing to pay until they have to; up until the very last second of the very last hour of the very last day the law allows.
This protocol causes tremendous stress amoung the "bees", who call this company, email that agency, all in a foreknown and vain attempt to GET THEIR MONEY!!!! They even go as far as to call in the "survivors" (another "kind" word", meaning the family......there is no limit to their ability to rationalize harrassment....) causing stress bordering upon deliberate cruelty.
During all of this, the newly born, "formerly dead", person becomes conditioned to life in a dreary, dark folder, deep in the virtual catacombs of a "worker bee's" computer.
This, "reborned dead person" is not alone. There are thousands waiting, just like him (or her, the "second life" does not require sex, or nourishment, or dillusions of God, or for that matter, anything at all....except the ability to wait mutely, until the "issue" of payment is resolved.
Listen to the dialouge between two dedicated "bees".
Bee #1 "The emergency room report says that "John Palmer died of congestive heart failure (COPD), you know the code for that?"
Bee#2 "Its 3-741xj".
Bee#1 "Any blocks on payment from insurance company "X"?".
Bee#1 "No, no blocks that I see, but their check want get cut until next Wednesday" .
Bee#2 "Shit, that is three assholes, I cant kill until NEXT week! Im gonna miss my quota! Jesus, why cant I kill them this week? WhatamIgonnado?"
Out of sheer frustration, "Bee" #2 calls in vain to company "X" and to the Federal Government, demanding to know what the delay in paying them is all about. Bee #2 already knows the answers. They are etched, as in stone, in memory. Bee #2 knows that no amount of pleading, threatening, or diplomacy will budge the far larger players in this production.
In projected desperation, fear, and anger, she opens the folder contaning one,"John Palmer", looking with wide, menancing eyes at his second, limited life. He dares not look back. Bee#2 is so very much larger than him.
Larger than the hospital "Bee", is the Federal Government; with "Bees" of it's own, and the multinational insurance companies, with "Bees" aplenty; so aggressive, so relentless, that poor "John Palmer" may live his second life for years. while these "giants" argue over an American citizen, already a candidate for the worms.
This scenario is not rare, or even unique. It happens with every single death, except for illegal aliens, who mow the finely manicured lawns of all three institutions. They dont count, or even rate a folder.
The point of all this?
When you are dying, dont fear hell. Fear for your family, fear for the future, and its victims, who will die twice; just as you will. They hold the power of American closure.
Fear the fact that "Amerisystemology", reveals the ability to give you an extension on your existence, a second life; until all accounts are rectified, all lists rearragned, all questions about who you were, and what you owe, are answered.
To anyone but the people you touch with kindness, or love, or unconditioanl allegiance, your death means nothing to anyone. You do not matter at all. The "Bees" are so relentless, that your "final death" will not occur, until next Wednesday, when the checks are cut.......
Best Regards,
ookrana
.
Comments