It’s Day 7 since the world ended, the sky fell and Apocalypse Now descended on American civilization. I sprung the door on my survivalist bunker here in an undisclosed location a few minute ago, with my assault rifle and large-capacity magazine at the ready, to peek out and see what was going on.
I heard that the absolute worst has happened – because of the catastrophic budget cuts imposed by the sequester, the White House has canceled all visitor tours during the spring season.
Oh, the horror. Oh, the humanity.
Don’t spread this around – I don’t want my bunker to be picketed by middle-schoolers – but if this is what sequestration hath wrought, I say bring it on. Spring in Washington, D.C. , could be beautiful with the cherry blossoms and all, but you can’t get anywhere because just about every tour bus in the nation, laden with hyperactive, squealing, eighth-graders bearing handheld electronic devices, is clogging every available street.
Actually, I’m sorry the kids won’t get to tour the presidential palace in D.C. I didn’t get to go to Washington when I was in eighth grade, and look what it’s done to me – left me skeptical, bald and old. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone – certainly not our children, who by the way are our future.
Seriously, though, the saddest thing about the sequester is how juvenile the whole thing is. It is not much of a stretch to think that a bunch of eighth-graders could do a better job tightening the nation’s fiscal belt (actually, it’s just loosening it a bit more slowly) than those who are in power.
The claim that cutting two cents of every dollar the federal government plans to spend over the next decade will unleash pestilence upon the land is an insult to “hard-working Americans” – you know, the people that President Obama and all politicians claim to respect and support so much.