California Health Insurance Quotes and Blog

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. 

Scooter races can be dangerous, especially in a motor home park for seniors when the seniors are the ones doing the racing. A California health insurance agent prevented the worst carnage: the financial kind.

74-year-old Padraig O’Brien loved to watch those scooter commercials on TV. “You can have your scooter, with no out-of-pocket expense,” the announcer crooned. Like several of his friends at the Elysium Trailer Park in Oxnard, Padraig was otherwise confined to a wheelchair. One day Padraig and several peers purchased dandy electric-powered scooters using their Medicare Supplement insurance policies to help defray their cost.  Visiting the Grand Canyon while maneuvering among crowds of tourists on their scooters didn’t appeal to anyone at Elysium, but once everyone had their scooters, something else became evident:  the thrill of scooter speed.

“I think we should set up a race track,” suggested Tony Pilano, at 79, a near-octogenarian assumed to be Elysium’s resident sage. Mary Falafel, who spoke Arabic but wasn’t a 73-year-old terrorist, preferring to decorate or draw, agreed. “I can make banners,” she said. She loved to draw nude men.

The race track was set up along the trailer park’s wide walking paths. In preparation for the big scooter race, the “main drag” was clearly marked by Mary’s banners, a few of them rather lewd. Fourteen scooters set to race lined up. Someone had brought a starter’s pistol. The electric hum of racing scooters was vaguely reassuring to many in the crowd of geezer gawkers. 

Tony and Padraig jousted for the lead, each rubbing the other like NASCAR drivers. Mary was running a strong third. As her scooter tipped, she reached for what she thought was a convenient handle …

 Exactly what occurred in those next crucial two seconds will never be precisely known.  

The aftermath featured the friendly California Health Insurance agent dutifully tying up loose ends after the participants had returned to Elysium. Mary brought up what was on everybody’s mind. “Let’s have another race,” she exclaimed.  A silence ensued leaving her words hanging in the California air.

A tear formed in Padraig’s eye.  “Tony would have liked that,” he concluded.