California Health Insurance Quotes and Blog

Mabel Mobry, a hippie centenarian from San Francisco, wondered if she had the freedom to get a prescription for medical marijuana under her 2010 Medicare Advantage PPO plan, so she phoned her trusted California Health Insurance agent to find out.  

For a 2010 Medicare Advantage enrollment kit call Matt toll free
at 1-866-861-0477

Mabel Mobry, still spry after surviving for exactly a century, pined for the days when she could get high with reckless abandon before all those Draconian blue laws gummed things up. When she was younger, she’d gone to Woodstock and heard Jimmy Hendrix play the national anthem. She relished her infamous pot parties, toking up and going straight to the bong, and getting a buzz. She’d married a man named Buzz, her third husband, as a way to immortalize those halcyon days, but he’d died in the bicentennial year, 1976, and that was a while ago. But now, in 2009, the pendulum was swinging back. Downtown and in the suburbs, marijuana was alive again, quasi-legal, if you used it for medical purposes. Stores sold it openly, if you had a prescription from a doctor. But Mabel was quite healthy for a centenarian. “I don’t feel a day over 94,” Mabel said to her cat, Woodstock, a white Angora that liked to party. What could she do to get her bong out again, a relatively law abiding old lady’s simple pleasure?  

Suddenly she had a brilliant idea, concerning her 2010 Medicare Advantage plan, the documents comprising it just sitting on the blue kitchen table getting dusty. Rock music started pounding in her head, Led Zeppelin playing some sort of anthem. She felt the freedom to act like Buzz’s warm caressing fingers remembered. He was her favorite husband when it came to physicality. Ring, once was all it took as her trusted California Health Insurance agent, a devout liberal thank God, picked up.

“Mrs. Mobry,” he said, sounding like a cherub although he had to be at least sixty, “What can I do you for?” A free spirit, the guy liked the freedom to juxtapose. He was humming the Star Spangled Banner, our national anthem. 

She came straight to the point. Woodstock was listening and nodded his approval. “Can my 2010 Medicare Advantage PPO plan incorporate a prescription for medical marijuana? Would such treatments be covered?”

“Do you have any medical conditions that might apply?” asked the cherubic California Health Insurance agent.

Mabel thought about it, but didn’t want to lie. “I might be going blue blind,” she said, shading the truth just a mite, as she could still see well enough to watch the Freedom Bowl parade on television, with its colorful anthem playing.

“That might do,” said the cherubic agent, “That just might do you.”

California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard never had the advantage to meet a parrot-like person face-to-beak. But he discovered that they have the freedom to confront 2010 Medicare Advantage PPO Plan issues similar to most Californians.

Need a Medicare Advantage Plan? Call 1-866-861-0477 for a kit.

Our National Anthem

Maisie M. Mynah was a sweet blue haired sixty-eight-year-old from Eureka who other than being able to whistle the national anthem tended to repeat herself and mimic behaviors so that it annoyed those around her. She’d been married eleven times and was still searching for that special guy special guy special guy. After hearing so much lately about health care reform, she decided to call a California Health Insurance agent for advice about her 2010 Medicare Advantage plan. After bussing south from Eureka to the Los Angeles area in order to pay a surprise visit to Max, her 7^th estranged husband, the only one who could still stand her, she looked up an agent named Matt Lockard, whose office was conveniently located in Ventura near where Max kept his bungalow.

“Hello. I’m Maisie Mynah, we’ve never met, but I’d like to discuss switching to a Medicare Advantage PPO. Can I make an appointment?”

“Sure,” Matt said, “When are you coming down?”

Maisie told him her circumstances, repeating herself a little too often, Matt mused. As he listened intently, he waited for her monotonous and repetitive voice to trail off, only it never did, instead it seemed like she hummed what sounded ominously like “saved by zero” the cryptic refrain from a  Toyota commercial, over and over, in the manner of an anthem.  

When Maisie showed up face-to-beak, as it were, it got worse. She strolled into Matt’s office. The bluish-blonde-haired eleven-time divorcee’s gait seemed mincing. Her voice grated on the California Health Insurance agent’s ears. Even simple phrases like “I’d prefer a PPO” repeated like another anthem reminded Matt of toenails scraping across a blackboard.  “I have Medicare Advantage,” Maisie finally managed, “but a PPO will give me more freedom freedom freedom,” she blurted in a parroted paroxysm of repetitiveness.

Matt felt like he wanted to scream. Although he had the freedom to do so he was always so polite to his customers. It was like a curse in these situations. “I’ll set you up with a PPO Medicare Advantage Plan,” he said.

“You mean in my Medicare Advantage?” Maisie squawked. She then proceeded to repeat herself several more times, once again in the manner of an anthem.

Matt kept that cursed smile on his own face – right up until Maisie finally left.  For weeks afterwards, that Toyota  jingle “saved by zero” played inside his head like a trapped cricket.

Eighty-two-year-old Nelson J. McElroy took to their backyard garden like oil takes to water. But one day, his wife Patricia observed some alarming portents on the day he finally began a long overdue project. California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard knew exactly what to do.

Nelson J. McElroy’s golden hostas had been holding him hostage all summer long. It seemed like there were armies of hostas in their environs, a redundant beauty on the march. After tolerating the pervasive blooms from his recently purchased lawn chair for as long as he could stand it, while sipping on a glass of lemonade, he decided to get to work trimming the stems. His wife Gertrude ambled over. She watched as Nelson squatted on aged bent knees with pruning shears in hand. He mentioned he was feeling a little dizzy along with a twinge of nausea. “I should probably sit down,” he added. As he returned to his chair, Gertrude noticed his left leg having difficulty matching the stride of his right, the left step diminishing like a chimera with every stride.

Nelson collapsed, landing on his pruning shears which were fortunately positioned blades down. “Oh Nelson!” Gertrude heard herself exclaim. Fearing the possibility of  a stroke, Gertrude recalled Matt Lockard, a pleasant semi-bearded California Health Insurance agent, the one who’d sold them their excellent Medicare Advantage plan just last year. She herself had utilized their coverage with a hospital stay as recently as May when her gall bladder had acted up. She decided immediately to ring Matt up. Thank the insurance God he was there. “Yes,” he said. He always sounded so calm when she spoke to him. A moment later, the decisive Lockard had contacted the 911 operator and ordered an ambulance for the McElroys.

She watched him the entire way to the hospital, terrified but trying to be brave while sitting next to him as he reclined with the tubes already in him on the ambulance stretcher. Every bumpy jolt made her heart race.

Days later in recovery Matt Lockard came to see them both.  “How are you doing?” he asked, the question directed at her as well as toward her now responsive husband.

“I had a stroke,” Nelson said, “because of those damned hostas.”

“Stop your cursing!” admonished Gertrude as Matt Lockard barely suppressed a grin.