Grandpa's Anus and Canada - A Political Intersection

When I checked Grandpa into the Final Solution Assisted Living Compound/Animal Shelter last month, I was assured that they had a sensible Lutheran Fundamentalist approach to warehousing the elderly (and unwanted pets).
Deeply religious, and German, to the point of being reptilian, they put Faith before everything. Faith healing, faith feeding, faith hygiene….Guests were ‘encouraged’ to live simply with their minds on the Lord.
(Except for the animals, who actually lived in ridiculous luxury, thanks to undeniable cuteness, and a generous trust from Leona Helmsley. Even the chickens had little heated free range roosts!)

The Final Solution staff, I was told, were both committed to helping transition, not screwing Jesus out of another angel by milking the health care system. They believed in expediency; not coddling the elderly or less attractive on to the next Phase. Before the medicare drug coverage ran out for the year and Someone was faced with having to drive to Canada to buy flomax and rectal wart cream. Although the latter is really cheap in Canada, as it doubles as a sandwich paste, like most things up there. (in Canada, not grandpa's anus)

The Solution’s remodeled carport/dorm had everything needed to encourage a close-closer-closest relationship to God: drafty moist environment, slippery urine based mud flooring, latrines doubling as room corners, exposed wires hanging off the prune juice dispensers. The staff left their cars idling, often for an hour or more, to “lull patients to sleep.”

They put the ‘not’ back into breathing.

It was exactly the kind of place Grandpa needed: miles away from anywhere with no phone. Fifty beds and a waiting list.

“It’s like camping, back in the 40’s!” I told Grandpa, as I dropped him off 130 miles south of town, in front of the razor wire Welcome gate. A stern guard in leiderhosen and a cammo Jesus t-shirt greeted us. I left him helping Grandpa rifle through his suitcase for valuables.

I think it is germane to note for later that all Grandpa had packed, spilled onto the soil in front of the puzzled guard was: one change of underwear (grandma's, RIP), a vat of Miracle Whip, one single rubber glove, a salami (Costco), 2 pounds of sliced American cheese (ditto) and a half pound of cole slaw (he is a Gold Star member). The cole slaw had leaked all over everything. Or maybe it was the Miracle Whip...the x large old lady panties splayed nearby. In my review mirror I saw them, the guard poking at the various Costco items with the end of his bayonet, Grandpa prattling on, probably about how he and Vince Van Patton van patented Miracle Whip years before the fake mayonaise people did....why it was originally designed as a stool softener...a suppository...that's where your real miracle is needed...blah blah blah Fred Thompson blah.

I don’t know how Grandpa got out of there, but it wasn’t how I expected. Faith, my ass.
I think you can see where this is going, politically speaking.