The scene: On the front porch at a retirement center, two very old men, George and Gus, are sitting side by side in rocking chairs, conversing.

George: Heard you had a meeting with the death panel.

Gus: Yep, I sure did.

George: Anything happen?

Gus: Yep. They said I should die next Tuesday. Actually, they said I should "plan to transition to post-viability status" next Tuesday. You know how those government people talk.

George: Won't see you at bingo next Wednesday, then, I suppose.

Gus (chuckling): Oh, yes, you will. Death-panel decisions trigger a
mandatory appeal. It takes them 90 days just to file the paperwork for that.

George: Oh. So you're good for three more months? Buy the green bananas, brother.

Gus (chuckling again): More like 18 months. It takes them that long to review the mandatory appeal after they get the paperwork. And then I can appeal the appeal to the Federal Board of Death Panel Appeals Appeals. That takes a couple of years longer.

George: So now you're up to 3 1/2 years.

Gus: Darn near an eternity.

George: Say, how old are you, anyway?

Gus: 104. I was kind of thinking I might be nearing the end of the road. But now it looks as if I can't go until 107 at the earliest. Too much red tape to get through first.

George (snorting): Not exactly express checkout, is it?

Gus: That's for sure. You should see the paperwork I have to do.

George: Don't bother filling it out. What are they going to do? Kill you?

(They begin laughing uproariously.)

Gus: Guess what they told me? "Failure to file is a federal offense
punishable by up to five years in prison."

George: Well, there you go. Add that to the 3 1/2 years they already gave you, and you'll be --

Gus: 112! I'll be older than some countries.

George: The birthday candles alone will bankrupt your kids.

Gus (wiping tears of mirth from his eyes): You hear what happened to Ted Johnson?

George: What?

Gus: He called the death panel, and the office put him on hold. Now, you know how stubborn Ted is. He wouldn't hang up. So he stayed on hold for three weeks.

George (slapping his knee): That's just like the old mule.

Gus (shaking with glee): When he finally got through, they told him he was supposed to be dead a week and a half earlier. Ted laughed so hard, it dropped his blood pressure 40 points, unfroze his knee and cleaned out a coronary artery. I saw him dancing the other day.

SO TO SPEAK
Death panel would put 'the end' out of reach
By JOE BLUNDO