Author's Note: This is the original version of the column published in the Dallas Morning News, Wednesday, April 13, 2005, in the Collin County section's Opinion Page.
So there I sat, listening to the spirited exchange between questioning citizens and feisty county commissioners over the level of health care provided to Collin County’s less-than-fortunate residents … and I began to think about the topic.
The forum, sponsored by the Plano/Collin County chapter of the League of Women Voters, covered many bases of a complicated subject and, for most of the attendees, without easy solutions.
Unless, of course, you possess a mind that seeks out the unusual, that gravitates toward the weird. A mind like mine.
As the volleying continued between the citizen/member critics and the astringent politicians, one of those thoughts took root, complete with choral introduction and orchestral arpeggio. A light suddenly shone through the room and put a spotlight on my legal pad.
Then a voice, which sounded very much like James Earl Jones (much more than Jerry Jones), whispered, “Build it and they will bet the come.” It was telling me that there was one of the cross-marketing solutions to provide better health care for the thousands of Collin Countians who are without any kind of coverage, or who are woefully underinsured.
Hey, gang, let’s build us our very own … casino (somewhere north of … Prosper, which would be appropriate, don’t you think?). And let’s earmark all the revenues from that establishment for county health care funding.
No mess, no muss, no waxy building streaks and no tax increase. Plus lots of fun to be had by all. As can be heard on the casino floor, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.” Take it one step further and let’s dedicate the revenues from individual table games for specific causes.
People will be invited to play Mental Health Roulette (closer to the truth than people realize), Child Care Craps, Immunization Blackjack (you actually receive your shot with a “21”), Vision Care Video Poker, Geriatric Keno, Dental Care Bingo, and the rising star of our Weezers Palace, Indigent Care Texas Hold ‘Em Poker (actually it’s more like Blind Man’s Bluff).
Not only would the casino produce revenue without that dreaded tax hike, but here’s the real kicker. Employees would come exclusively from a pool of residents who fall below the U.S. poverty level. Those workers would, in turn, have a chance to actually the kind of living wage to afford decent coverage for their families. They’d be OFF the poverty list and no longer a factor for officials to worry about! How great is that?
Some of you might be wondering how kosher this plan actually sounds. True, some Republicans AND Democrats have demonstrated recently in Austin to stop casino gambling, or any other increased form, from polluting the state treasury to fund public education, highways, you name it. But our governor, Rick Perry, doesn’t seem to be one of them; at least not overtly. He DID float a trial balloon for more video slot machines at race tracks during the 2004 special session (it was shot down) and recently he was quoted as saying, “The idea that we’re not going to have any gambling in Texas, I think, is a fairy tale. You’ve got a substantial amount in this state. There’s probably a lot of gambling going on the golf course right now.”
While a four-ball canasta won’t fund much in Texas, it is obvious that many of Austin’s leadership are looking for “safe” reasons to approve the “distasteful.” My concept would simply localize it for a specific purpose (ring up that choral group again). A casino would also help that Nashville public relations firm help discover more things for outsiders to do around Plano, aside from parking all those Lexuses next to the Western Warehouse.
To solve difficult problems, a person, or a group, such as the county commissioners, need, at times, to think and act “outside the box.” Even if it is a craps table.
Ain’t inspiration wonderful? Ooh, there’s that orchestra again.
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