It’s big! it rocks! Buzzing bees* and birdsong by your very own lemonade spring! Priced low low low** to move fast, so call Obama, Harkin, and Baucus LLP, Realtors, before it’s too late!

[*]Cigarette trees removed as threat to public health
[**]Title clouded. Buyer responsible for all counterclaims

It doesn’t take any looking at all to discover people touting the marvelous benefits of “Public” Health Care. Talking heads and blogpundits all agree: the result will be a totally healthy population, smiling countenances will be seen everywhere, no brown baby will ever die of disease (if it survives its mother’s “family planning”), and no grandma ever need worry about paying for trips to the doctor (unless, of course, she’s no longer a contributor to society). Best of all, it’ll be really cheap, because having the Best and Brightest make all the decisions in the public interest will result in savings everywhere, especially since we’ll no longer be paying parasitic Insurance Company <harrrk! spit!> executives anything any more!

Guys, you don’t have to sell the Big Rock Candy Mountain. People will seek it out on their own, without advertising, and there will always be plenty of customers.

What you do have to do is establish title, or at least possession. Do you have a Big Rock Candy Mountain, or is it all just advertising piffle? Is what you’re promising on the shelf, just waiting for delivery approval?

What you’ve actually got is a thousand blank pages — or good as, since what’s on them changes minute by minute — that nobody but the self-appointed Masters of the Universe get to look at, plus a metric buttload of pious hopes. Sell me what’s in the legislation, not what your fevered imaginations put there.

Except you can’t, because every time we do get a look at what’s actually in it the damned thing looks a little worse. You Won™. You’ve got the majority. Either kill the thing or pass it, and stop trying to sell the Big Rock Candy Mountain. You don’t even have any candy to sell, much less a mountain of the stuff.

UPDATE: Commenter Spiny Norman observes that the last verse of McClintock’s song is apropos:

The punk rolled up his big blue eyes
And said to the jocker, “Sandy,
I’ve hiked and hiked and wandered too,
But I ain’t seen any candy.
I’ve hiked and hiked till my feet are sore
And I’ll be damned if I hike any more
To be buggered sore like a hobo’s whore
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.”

Yup. There ain’t no candy. It thus behooves you to check into what the con-mander in chief is actually trying to sell you.