This is the perfect news to cap off the week:

The U.S. Postal Service, which predicts it may run out of cash in September, had a $3.1 billion loss in its third quarter, Chief Financial Officer Joseph Corbett said.

Revenue was $15.8 billion in the three months ended June 30, Corbett said today in Washington. The volume of first-class mail, the most profitable mail category, fell 6.4 percent.

Which, for some reason, reminded me of this sparkling bon mot from Aug. ’09. Obama was going around trying to convince everyone that Obamacare was awesome because private insurers would be able to compete with the government plan:

“I, I recognize, though, you make a legitimate, you raise a legitimate concern. People say, ‘Well, how can a private company compete against the government?’ If you, if you think about it, uh… y’know, UPS and FedEx are doin’ just fine. Right? Th-the, uh… No, they are. I mean, it’s, it’s the Post Office that’s always havin’ problems.”

You can see The Smartest President Ever hesitate mid-sentence as he realizes what he’s saying: “Holy $#!+, am I actually trying to sell this thing by comparing it to the Post Office? How do I pull out of this dive?” And as you can see, he didn’t.

Which made me start wondering about what’s going to happen when our health care system becomes as streamlined and efficient as the USPS. And I kept hearing that great old Marvelettes tune in my head:

Please Mr. Postman (ObamaCare Remix)

Oh yes, wait a minute, Mr. Postman
Way-ay-ay-ait, Mr. Postman

Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
If I qualify for surgery
I’ve been waiting a mighty long time
Just to hear from that doctor of mine

There must be some word today
About my much-needed hospital stay
Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
What are my chances of mortality?

I’ve been standing here waiting, Mr. Postman
So-oh-oh unhealthy
For just a word from my physician
Saying he’ll be getting ’round to me

Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
If it’s a gurney or a hearse for me
I’d like to ask, if you really don’t mind
For just a minute of a specialist’s time

So many days you passed me by
If I don’t get help soon, I’ll probably die
You wouldn’t stop to make me feel better
I’ve got worse health care than an Irish Setter

Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
What are my chances, oh yeah, of recovery?
You know, it’s been so long
Yeah, since I heard ’bout those lab tests of mine

You better wait a minute, wait a minute
Whoa, you better wait a minute
Please, please, Mr. Postman
Please check it and see, am I a casualty?

You better wait, wait a minute
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute
Please, Mr. Postman
It’s not just a rumor, please look at this tumor

[slow fade while descending into the grave]