Recent Publications
The Softer Side

Artist: Tomoko Ikeda
Title: Pensive Traveler
Owner: moi

I'm a total fan of her work. I even made it to one of her Exhibitions in Ginza, Tokyo—I was the only dude who didn't speak Japanese (well, I speak some, but not enough). Check out her website. 


In 2009, she published a beautiful photographic book of her doll art collection, Scenery of Time.

DEBTOR NATION

National Debt 1960-2011

MY NEW BOOK....

How I lost my moorings in Tokyo. Read Chapters 1 & 2.

@Ronnie_Baker: Genuinely funny, entertaining & well written. Highly recommended.

@lothisoft: Great read, got very sad towards the end but what a fantastic finish. Are you writing a sequel?

Buy it at Amazon.com

 

 

Chapter 1 ♦ AIRMAIL FROM AFTERLIFE

1976

One rainy summer day, I packed my backpack and went to America. I was seventeen. I knew what I was doing: I was escaping from the debacle at home. And I was looking for something. For what exactly, I didn’t know, but I’d go look for it in America. There, the heat burned in my nostrils. Lawns were brown. Cars were big and air-conditioned. Girls went gaga over my accent. Guys thought I was cool. And I fell in love with it all.
          Three years later, I was paying my way through college in Texas when the notion of home, distant and convoluted as it had become, blew up with gratuitous violence. A Boeing had crashed into a mountain in Turkey, killing all 155 people aboard. I heard about it on the radio. But I didn’t connect the dots.
          A few days later, I found a message from the operator in my campus PO Box. Telegram, call Western Union, it said. I called from one of the pay phones. My heart was pounding in my temples, and I had trouble hearing the lady on the other end.
          “I’d read it to you,” she said. “But it’s in German. I think you better come by and get it.”
          “I’m fixing to go to work. Can’t you try to read it to me?”
          “Oh dear.”
          “Is it long?”
          “Two lines.”
          “Can you spell it?”
          “Well, I guess I could. Are you ready?”
          I pulled out a notepad and pen. “Ready,” I said, though I knew that I wasn’t ready, that I’d never be ready for whatever she was about to spell.
          “E-L-T-E-R-N new word,” she said, “A-M new word M-O-N-T-A-G new word M-I-T new word F-L-U-G-Z-E-U-G new word I-N new word D-E-R new word T-U-R-K-E-I—”
          “Stop! Please.” I couldn’t write anymore. Parents on Monday with plane in Turkey.... German sentences, even in abbreviated telegram style, had the main verb at the end, but I didn’t want to hear the main verb, didn’t want to hear it spelled out letter by torturous letter. “Thank you. That’s enough.”
          I’d escaped the debacle at home and had gone as far away as possible. But this wasn’t what I’d had in mind. I stood there in a daze, brain deadlocked, numb, clutching the receiver, drowning in abysmal emotions.
          Then I went to work. It was just a part-time job, but now I needed the money more than ever. Afterward, I drove to the Western Union office and picked up the yellow slip of paper with twelve lines of all-caps alphanumeric gibberish and two lines of readable text. It was from my sister, sent from the town where she was staying with friends. But it didn’t include their phone number. And my brother was on vacation somewhere. So there was no way to reach him either.

Next....

TESTOSTERONE PIT, the novel

Wolf Richter

Chapter 1    Circle Jerk

It was Saturday, the biggest day of the week, and everyone was working bell to bell, over forty salesmen, though Ferronickel didn’t know exactly how many he had because some hadn’t shown up and might have started selling cars some other place, and because he’d hired a bunch of new guys an hour ago.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he sang in a basso profundo voice as he marched across the showroom in his asymmetric gait. He was the general sales manager at the Ford Superstore. His Tabasco Sauce tie was loosened, his collar unbuttoned. His gut that hung over his belt strained his shirt. He had puffy eyes and was full of mean energy, ready to explode, ready to force things to happen. He blew out the door, came to a halt on the porch that surrounded the showroom on three sides, and lit a cigarette.

Al Millikin, one of his four sales managers and perhaps the best closer in town, was watching Mad Boxer work a customer on the truck lot. Potential deal.

“Why can’t he bring that guy inside and write him up?” Ferronickel said.

“He ought to tell him we got free pussy on the showroom,” Millikin said.

“Don’t give me any ideas for our next live remote.”

“Come to think of it, that would be a hell of a lot more effective than the classical rock-and-roll shit we’ve been doing.”

“For our male customers.”

“We could alternate. Free pussy one day, free Godiva chocolates the next. We’d have both ends of the spectrum covered.”

“You’re a fucking Einstein, Millikin.”

Reginald Pierce, another sales manager, a big guy with a shortish Afro, was jumpy and his eyes darted about. He fretted about Whacker Packer, Hackman Jones, JoAnn Delouche, and several other salesmen who’d formed a dope ring by the plate-glass window. If left alone, they’d make up rumors, complain about dealership coffee, and infect each other with morale problems. He singled out a young guy.

“Freddie T, are you going to participate in a circle jerk?” he growled. They called him Freddie T because of his unpronounceable Greek last name. “Or are you going to sell something?”

It startled them; they’d forgotten all about selling. And they drifted apart.

Lou Massago gesticulated on the phone in one of the closing booths. He wore a white button-down shirt, a red and blue tie, slacks, and ostrich-skin boots. A scar curved upward from the right corner of his mouth, giving him a lopsided grin even when he was serious. His eyes were set close together and peered out from under his bushy eyebrows with ferocious intensity. But he had a soft voice when he wanted to, and now he wanted to because he was talking to a customer about a 15-passenger van that had come out of the rental fleet. There were ten of them. They were scratched and dented and had too many miles on them, and they were overpriced, and no one could sell them, but he was king of sales, and if he could sell them, it would prove he could sell anything.

He hated working the phone. He needed his customers in front of him, needed to stare into the whites of their eyes. But no one had sold any of those vans yet, and to prove he was king of sales and could sell anything, he’d decided to sell them all. Besides, the Saturday rush hadn’t begun yet, and calling old customers was more productive than standing around waiting for something to happen.

Next....

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Monday
Jan092012

The Systemic Nature of Medicare Fraud

It’s the kind of Medicare fraud case that makes your skin crawl. But the FBI is finally getting serious. California Watch reported today that federal agents interviewed the patient who was at the core of an investigative report in mid December. The patient, a diabetic, who was treated for acute kidney failure in 2010 at the Shasta Regional Medical Center in Redding, CA, didn’t know that the hospital would bill Medicare for the treatment of a disease she’d never heard of: kwashiorkor.

The often fatal illness is caused by severe malnutrition. Its symptoms include a distended belly and stick-thin arms. It afflicts children during famines in Africa. The patient was overweight. But by mentioning kwashiorkor on its billing documents, according to California Watch, the hospital boosted its Medicare reimbursement from $4,708 to $11,463—a 143% jump in revenue.

The temptation was just too great. The hospital was bought in 2008 by Prime Healthcare Services, a chain based in Ontario that owns 14 hospitals and a medical group in California. In 2008, the hospital billed Medicare for eight cases of kwashiorkor. In 2009, it billed Medicare for 303 cases. And in 2010, 727 cases. Stunningly, 19.4% of all its Medicare patients were suffering from kwashiorkor.

Why did Medicare allow this to happen? Wasn’t anybody paying attention? Well, actually no. Because Medicare has a systemic problem. It lacks, inexplicably, the first line of defense that every insurance company has used for decades: computerized analysis of all claims to detect abnormalities. Instead, Medicare relies on the honor system. It expects healthcare providers to forgo easy profits for the sake of “honor,” whatever that means in corporate America. So claims are paid automatically. Not even 5% are audited. And after-the-fact federal crackdowns, if they happen at all, merely cause fraud to shift to a different area.

Another systemic problem is Medicare’s bonus system. It heaps additional payouts on providers who treat patients diagnosed with certain dangerous diseases, such as kwashiorkor, blood infections, and acute heart failure. Providers simply add the billing codes to their Medicare bills and get paid extra. It’s found money.  

So a special industry has sprouted up around Medicare. California Watch, which claims to have analyzed more than 50 million Medicare patient records that it obtained through the Freedom of Information Act, identified thousands of instances where Prime Healthcare Services billed Medicare for the treatment of rare conditions. At Prime's Chino Valley Medical Center in San Bernardino County, for instance, a whopping 35.2% of the Medicare patients were treated for acute heart failure, six times the average rate. The hospital chain meanwhile claims its billing statements are accurate.

No one knows the amount of improper payments. The Office of Management and Budget estimated it at $47.9 billion in 2010, or about 9% of total Medicare spending. That much money cannot be spread over just a few “bad apples.” Fraud is built into the system. And given the powerful lobby of healthcare providers, one might wonder if Congress will ever step in to force a change. For just how fed up Americans are with Congress, and its way of running the show, dive into some irony and read....  The Most Disparaged Profession.

Medicare cannot afford to be lax. The system is facing $36 trillion in unfunded obligations under Part A—over an infinite horizon which is a pretty long time, but it’s still terrifying (though less terrifying than the current budget deficits). As baby boomers retire, the ratio of workers to beneficiaries will decline from 3.9 currently to 2.4 by 2030. Meanwhile, Medicare spending is expected to grow 7% per year. The system is on collision course with reality.

Everybody agrees: something needs to be done. Demographics can't be changed easily. Adjusting contributions and benefits is a painful procedure. And fixing a system that encourages fraud on a massive scale is hard because so many businesses benefit from it, though technically, it would be relatively simple. Governments aren’t good at shutting off the money spigot when things go seriously awry. There is just too much vested interest. Exhibit A: California where a hullabaloo has re-broken out over funding the skyrocketing costs of..... High-Speed Rail To Nowhere.

Reader Comments (5)

I am very sorry to hear this but I promise those who have disabilities can join to the medicare group and live a satisfied life.
January 10, 2012 | Unregistered Commentermedicare
The auto generated spam above my comment is hilarious.

There is another form of systemic medicare fraud which is a way of life where I live. In my job I see vast numbers of healthy people getting $30,000 to $60,000 cash payouts for imaginary illnesses. This is on top of their routine monthly payments for being "disabled". In my experience the majority of "disabled" people are fraudsters and fit no reasonable definition of disabled.

It is hard to take societies implied code of "do the right thing" when all around you people get rewarded for lying and cheating with virtually no chance of getting caught.
January 10, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterMike
Maybe the low administrative expenses has something to do with the fraud.
Another fraudulent part to the Medicare system is the trust fund.
Unlike a private insurer, which simply liquidates its investments when outgo exceeds income, Medicare must raise new general revenues AS IF THE TRUST FUND DID NOT EXIST!
Don Levit
January 10, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterDon Levit
Thanks for your comments.

Mike - I have heard stories about this problem but don't personally know people who do this -- otherwise I'd write a blog post on it.

Don - Government accounting always boggles my mind.
January 10, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterWolf
As bad as this sounds, it is still more efficient than private insurance. While private insurance returns an average of 80% of premiums to providers, medicare returns about 95%. So, with 10% fraud, the payer still gets 5% improvement in bang for the buck. Clean up the fraud, and medicare would be far better.
January 12, 2012 | Unregistered Commentergeezer88

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