by Obama’s Independent Payment Advisory Board, the “Death Panel”. And the old Black men and women, and old Hispanic men and women, and old Asian men and women, and old Indian men and women, and the young women when they become old hags (without their makeup), and the young people when they become old tottering men and women, long after this generation of “Old White Men” and women are gone, will possibly know then when it is too late, that maybe they should have listened to the “Old White Men.”

The old-west cowboy had managed to secure a room in the hotel for a night. This was a luxury generally beyond his means.

Sometime during the night, something disturbed his sleep, and he awakened in this unfamiliar place. He lay,in silence, in the dark, his only light the light of a long-waning moon, shining dimly, in through the window.

What had awakened him? Everything was stillness and silence. Then he saw it, a white hand inching its way up, over the foot his bed.

Terror gripped him. He held his breath as he slowly reached for his gun on the wash stand by the side of the bed. As he moved, the hand slid further in it's slow, upward movement.

Quietly, the cowboy thumbed the hammer back, all the while holding the trigger tight, so there wouldn't be any noise of of the gun being cocked.

Steady, now steady. Carefully aim. Fire and pain.

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Old White Men have been, throughout their lives, a little like that cowboy. They shoot themselves in the