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Go out with you? Why not... Do I like to dance? Of course! Take a walk along the beach tonight? I'd love to. But don't try to touch me. Don't try to touch me. Because that will never happen again. "Past, Present and Future"-The Shangri-Las

Monday, October 10, 2005

Hole in your old brown overcoat

I heard a couple of interesting items on the radio (NPR natch) today:

Apparently there is a disease called asperger's syndrome in which you are pretty smart but a daydreaming socially inept dingdong who can't get it together. I don't know how they test you for this, but I don't need the test; I got it. The question is, can I get some kind of aid for it? By aid I mean cash.

Also there was a story about how the government in Connecticut has decided to require insurance companies to provide coverage for infertility treatments for patients up to 40 years of age. This is pretty unusual; a lobbyist for Conn. health plans says it'll be as expensive as any mandate the legislature has ever passed, and the forty-year cutoff was intended to reign in the total cost a bit. So naturally they're hearing howls of entitled rage from women over forty who haven't gotten wind of this newfangled "adoption" thing they've got now. Pardon my insensitivity, but the last I checked there wasn't a human being shortage; I certainly don't think any prospective parents should be prevented from providing love and care to a child, but why not give that love to a child that currently exists? And before anyone accuses me of sexist callousness let me point out that I take a dim view of erectile disfunction pills being covered by anything other than out-of-pocket money, no pun intended. Why should your and my insurance rates go up because people refuse to adopt, use their tongues, or do without? I have to pay for anything I do that involves the reproductive system; is it a hate crime that Blue Cross doesn't pay for my dates? Giving birth is to women over forty what nailing a prom queen is to men over forty; if you can, good on ya, but you're left to you're own devices.

Next time on But Don't Try To Touch Me: kids these days with their jitterbug and bathtub gin, why back in my day we gathered around the piano-forte and sang hymns together.

In other words feel free to set me straight on this issue.

BTW it occured to me today that the word "responsibility" seems to combine the words "response" and "ability" so responsibility consists, perhaps, of an ability to respond. This thought may prove useful when trying to determine who can be held responsible for what.

Edit: I just realized I have an older married female friend who's having infertility treatments, but I believe she's 39 so she scoots in under the bar and hopefully won't beat me if and when she reads this. As I say I'm open to reconsideration; the above rant was of the off-the-cuff, seat-of-pants, ill-thought-out variety.

2 comments:

charlie said...

Aaron, if you think you have social problems, you should meet a kid who REALLY has asberger's. I've met a few.

I was on a field trip with a kid once. On the first day he discovered an insect called an ant lion. For the next 3 days, that is ALL he thought about. Before bed he'd ask to go check on them. At meals he would ask what eats them. In class he would relate whatever we were talking about to them. he was focused to the point of obsession.

He's very intelligent, but he learns what is focuses on. So if you want to teach him about a certain topic, you need to find a way to REALLY get is attention. If he's currently focusing on something else, he won't even hear you.

Aaron White said...

Oh. I guess I don't have Asberger's. The search for the root of my insufficiencies continues...