Over the past few weeks, depending on where you sit on the political school bus, you’ve probably either had (a) a stream of guilty “I told you so” happiness; or (b) a dreadful, stomach-sinking horror while watching Obamacare, the president’s oft-labeled “signature achievement,” make its national debut.
It has been, in short, an epic disaster. It is a drunken, hair-mussed, ill-shod debutante tripping and tumbling down one of those long, open, curving, red-carpeted staircases, and then, at the bottom, plowing directly through a gaggle of gasping society ladies.
And that was just the website. Add the alarming swath of health care cancellations across the country, and you’ve got the boozed-up debutante struggling to her feet, swigging from a whiskey bottle at the bar, and inexplicably punching her great-grandmother’s sweet best friend Trudy in the face.
But here’s what’s weird about the whole thing: Despite watching this debacle from the beginning, and despite a clear viewing of the debutante’s utter inability to operate in the real world, many of the gasping society ladies are not horrified. They are in denial. Millions of people losing health plans, these grandees intone, is actually a good thing -- and Obamacare, if we just give it a chance, is a great thing.