News Ticker

A preexisting condition spells the death of a snow person TrumpCare couldn’t help …

Some deaths happen slowly and are hard to watch. But like car wrecks, you can’t avert your eyes.

Can such needless deaths be avoided? Congress is in the midst of determining just that.


What follows below is a sequence of highly graphic, unretouched photos that chronicle the agonizingly slow death of a snow person in the aftermath of Charlotte’s recent snow event.

Warning: If you are easily upset at grisly images of death, TURN AWAY NOW.

Could she/he (their name, F–sty, has been intentionally omitted from this article until next of kin have been notified) have benefitted from TrumpCare? Only Republicans know. (The victim’s preexisting condition – global warming-itis – was reportedly to be excluded from coverage.) Like the average American, snow people are likely to be subjected to substantially higher insurance rates/coverage unavailability than what they experienced under SantaCare.

If you’re concerned about the exclusion of global warming as a preexisting condition, immediately write your Congressman or Senator. As for the snow people, ask Santa to include the pro-TrumpCare legislators on his permanent and irrevocable ‘naughty’ list for this year.

About Dave Bradley (264 Articles)
I was a writer by trade so one would think letters would come easily for me. It is so now, but wasn't always that way. Indeed, the first letter was written the Monday after Ellen started her freshman year in college. For years I've wondered - with no good answers - why I swiveled my office chair toward my computer screen to fire up a word processing document for that first letter. I just don't know. I just did. Perhaps it was the angst of separation or wanting to say things that had gone unsaid at that moment when we parted ways in front of her college dormitory. What was a one-off became habitual. When her brother Reid enrolled in the same college, his name was added to the salutation line. They were kids then and are adults now. No matter. The letter writing habit remains so today. I live in Brevard, North Carolina. I'm well away from where they live and don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. That's why letters, at least to me, fill the void of distance. The pages give me something to say and the space to say it. There is no assurance they read the letters; indeed, I have never asked if they do so. With the pace of their busy lives who could blame them for letting a letter sit unopened? Over time, it has dawned on me that the letters are both communicative - and cathartic. By nature, letters are about the writer; the writer can only write about their situation. Perhaps that is as it should be. It's all about the here and now from one person's perspective.

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