I cannot abide a direct link to the New York Times, no matter how their business performance cheers me. So here is a link to the NYT, via Instapundit. Thanks, Glenn!

The Physicians' Foundation, a nonprofit organization that supports physicians' work with patients, last month published the results of a survey on current medical practice conditions in the United States. Some 12,000 doctors responded, the vast majority of whom were primary care physicians.

Nearly half of them said they planned in the next three years to reduce the number of patients they see or to stop practicing altogether. While these doctors rated patient relationships as the most satisfying aspect of practice, over three-quarters felt they were at "full capacity" or "overextended and overworked."

Read the whole thing. With mandatory health care coming, and doctors leaving their practices and virtually no one in med school interested in primary care...well, if you haven't had the incentive to get in shape and take care of your health, now you do.

Energy, economy and now health care: when the government steps in to help you out, you are really on your own.

I've been absent for while after a life-changing event. I have never held much of a brief for Barack Hussein Obama, except for wanting to buy him for what he's worth and sell him for what he thinks he's worth. But I did watch his acceptance speech as the Democratic candidate for president on the television.

At first I was skeptical but soon I found myself staring, and staring deeply into His eyes, caught by the conviction of His words. His words, delivered in that matchless baritone, ran together but why did I need them? That sonorous cadence, the self-assurance of only the finest of self-created prophets. The warm feeling that washed over me was all, not just all that I needed, but all. Soon there was nothing in the room but the television.

Without meaning to I rose from my chair and found myself kneeling in front of the television, as His visage appeared surrounded by a golden nimbus, His eyes radiating the universal love and healing warmth of the man who will lead us and make us forget trifling things like ourselves and reality, to lose all in hope. And change we can believe in.

His voice, rhythmic, hypnotic, speaking known words in ways that no one had ever heard before, soothed and caressed with the loftiest of sentiment, playing the audience like a fine instrument. At intervals the camera panned over his apostles, to see women crying and men swallowing hard and wiping their eyes. I saw Andrea Mitchell throwing her underwear, and Alan Greenspan's AmEx card, at the stage.

I found myself with my hand on the television, saying, "I believe! Change I can believe in! Heal us, O Great one! Heal us! You are the one I have been waiting for! And I didn't know it until You told me! You created the hole in my heart just to fill it with yourself! I believe! I trust! I'm in!"

Finally, after a crescendo that would have shamed Demosthenes, the Chosen One levitated Himself over his followers, who were by this time rolling in the floor, their eyes back into their heads, and He left the building, right after Elvis, trailed by a halo of golden light.

In the morning when I woke the warts in my naughty places had vanished.

And from this we know the shape of the Obama health plan: every household shall have a television and every week the Chosen One shall speak to us as we kneel in front of the television, and all our naughty warts shall go away.