Don't Drain the Swamp; Pull the Weeds

Washington, D.C., and the federal government for which the District of Columbia is the national headquarters, ain't a swamp.

Calls to "drain the swamp" trivialize the effort required to correct the trajectory of an overbearing, out-of-control government that no longer represents the best interests of the people for which the Constitution established it to serve.

The Colonel believes the federal government, and the myriad onerous regulatory apparatus lying camouflaged beneath its facade, is more like the expansive lawn and gardens surrounding the Big House here at the shallow northern end of deep southern nowhere.

From a distance it looks green and pleasing.  Closer examination reveals an infestation of weeds that, left unchecked, will eventually choke and destroy the Colonel's intent for a lush, dark green, bare feet-cushioning carpet of proper turf. 

Weeds camouflage themselves, hiding in plain sight.  But, when a bare foot comes in contact with them, that bare foot knows the difference.  Weeds are coarse and prickly.  Weeds run counter to the purpose of a lawn.  Weeds are, as Marines would refer to a fellow not pulling on the same end of the rope as the rest of the team, "on their own program."

The Colonel has been fighting a "long war" of attrition against the weeds that annually invade his lawn.  He has employed nearly every weapon known to grass in this effort.  

He has "carpet bombed" the yard with weed-killing chemicals, encouraged the growth and expansion of the "good grass" with liquid and nitrogen stimulus, and manicured the result with care and attention rivalling that of the greens keeper at Bethpage Black.

The weeds persist.

The Colonel has come to the conclusion that persistent "boots on the ground" will be required to eradicate the scourge.

This fight will have to be a hands-on affair.  The Colonel will have to get up close and personal with each individual weed, interrogate for authenticity, and prosecute with extreme prejudice.  

This will be an infantry fight. 

Just the other day the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda stepped out onto the front porch of the Big House and addressed the Colonel,

"Hey, knucklehead.  Whatcha doin'?"

"Pullin' weeds, Sweething."

"Isn't that your 'marine' knife?"

"The title 'Marine' is capitalized, dear."

"What?"

"You didn't capitalize the title 'Marine' when you spoke it."

"Knucklehead, you are seriously one strange man."

"You mean 'one dangerous man' don't you, Sweetie?"

"No.  The word 'strange' is the best description for a an old man dressed in camouflage crawling around the front yard with a knife."

"It's not just any 'knife.'  It's the Colonel's K-Bar.  Standard issue for combat Marines."

"Okay, knucklehead.  Whatever.  You just keep crawling around the yard stabbing the grass with your knife and referring to yourself in the third person.  I'm going inside.  I'll have the first aid kit ready."

Removing counterproductive, socialist, anti-freedom government agencies and their apparatchiks is like that.  The effort will be derided and opposed. 

But, like noxious weeds, they are best removed one at a time -- up close and personal.