Hark! Listen! Do you hear it? Commuter song rings through the bus.
I hear the sweet-cynical laughing chitter-chatter of jovial workers traveling to the Federal mines, endless warrens of office after office after office, sunless caves they burrow into day after day. In the dark recesses, word-mining functionaries hammer, chip, pick, blast, searching for veins of bureaucratic ore, hoping and striving to extract nuggets, spoonfulls even, of precious government jewels, shining policies, procedures, and pronouncements, regulatory treasure to last a lifetime.
