Curse You, Red Baron

After earning the moniker “Bunker Hill” for his mystifying disappearing act at the end of the last congressional session, Congressman Baron Hill (D-Ind.) has finally surfaced — twice.  He conducted two town hall meetings, one down in the extreme south across the river from Louisville in Jeffersonville and the other in what should have been a very safe location, Bloomington, the home of Indiana University.  Well, all did not go as planned by the self-proclaimed "Blue Dog.” In both locations according to my patriots-in-the-room, at least half those in attendance came to express their objections to the whole healthcare boondoggle.  

Recovering lawyer Rick Hofstetter reported,

The crowd looked to be a representative cross section of Indiana’s Ninth Congressional District — students, seniors, kids, grey Hippies, young families.  Several carried protest signs, both favoring and opposing government-managed health care.  A suspicious number of those in line in front of me were clad in blue t-shirts bearing a quote putatively uttered by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  (I never knew King to have been so interested in health care reform.)  The Blue Shirts were apparently the Baron’s henchmen.

But what did the Elusive One have to say on this crucial issue; and did he use the Blue Shirts as his straight men to keep the event under control?  

Well, it was apparently much more structured than some of the boisterous events we have all enjoyed around the country.  In fact, the Baron strictly forbade anyone from recording or photographing anything inside the room — that’s right, I said “forbade.” One IU journalism student expressed her objection to this edict, but after she so complained a second time he showed his notorious temper as the effete representative scolded the kid, “This is my meeting, and we will run it by my rules.”  I’m not kidding, that’s what he said. Of course the wise one didn’t count on the utterly predictable reaction by the crowd that then proceeded to cat calls and an explosion of sound that drowned him out, public address system and all.  From the back one voice was heard to say “Hey, you work for us!” More cheering.

Towing the party line and continuing to demonstrate his disdain for the facts, Hill had his people passing out materials identified as myth-busters intended to debunk all those pesky complaints about the Obamacare “public option,” taxpayer-funded abortions, rationing, and the like.  And of course the Baron kept to that script as well, assuring all that there was no chance we would lose our private coverage, that care would at no time ever be subject to restrictions or rationing, and that somehow all this new taxpayer-funded stuff wouldn’t cost a dime.  Again, reporter Hofstetter:

One woman, who stated that some things in health care needed fixed, begged the Baron to show proof that if this health care was passed, that she would be guaranteed to be able to keep her current health insurance which she is very, very happy with.  After a short exchange with this woman, Hill’s final response was “Trust me you can always keep your own insurance.”  Yes, this guy actually said “Trust me” and the crowd exploded in laughter.

All in all it was not a good time for the Red Baron; but unlike his colleagues around the country who stood there and took it for what seemed (to them, anyway) like an eternity, Hill stayed for the announced hour and then was gone, his Crimson Fokker idling in the parking lot, the trademark white scarf blowing in the hot air created by either by the exhaust or by the pilot, not sure which.  He dodged and weaved, bloviated vacuous promises and stayed right where the Chosen One told him to stay.  

So we head back into that one always-dangerous time — when Congress is in session — with these cosmically high stakes weighted and rigged by the likes of Hill of Indiana, formerly-principled representatives who are eager to sacrifice their long track records as moderates to avoid the wrath of Ms. Pelosi and The Chosen One.

Hill steadfastly promised to support cap and trade, zealously defended socialized medicine, and apparently never looked back at the angry throng of those he abandoned, all shaking their fists at his perfidy as the Fokker lifted off and disappeared over the horizon on its eastward journey.