The D.C. Buffet Never Closes
Somewhere in the marble maze of Washington, a crowd of well-fed suits is clinking glasses and congratulating each other on surviving another “crisis.” Out here in the real world, the lights are flickering, the fridge is empty, and the gas gauge is kissing E. Government shutdowns have become our national spectator sport — complete with millionaire referees who still collect paychecks while telling the rest of us to “hang in there.” The irony is thicker than the cigars in the D.C. Club’s back room, where the menu’s printed on taxpayer-funded linen and the only thing that ever runs out is accountability.
Military Families: The Forgotten Collateral
When the gears of government grind to a halt, it’s not the bureaucrats who bleed — it’s the service members who still show up, still salute, and still somehow find a way to put dinner on the table. Military families aren’t looking for handouts; they’re looking for the pay they already earned. Yet while Washington fumbles the ball in another political tug-of-war, these families are forced to wonder if the country they serve is still serving them. It’s like watching a general tell his troops to “hold the line” while he’s safely sipping bourbon in a bunker.
A Shutdown by Any Other Name
Bureaucracy in D.C. is a creature that could survive a nuclear winter — immune to logic, shame, and its own paperwork. The whole city runs on a kind of ceremonial dysfunction, a snake devouring its own tail in triplicate. When lawmakers say “shared sacrifice,” what they really mean is you first. They’ll keep collecting paychecks, perks, and parking spots while the people who keep the lights on — literally — line up for assistance.
America’s capital might call it a “shutdown,” but to anyone outside the Beltway, it feels more like a shakedown.
