By Theophilus Gant
Every year, with the regularity of mudslides in March, the Ministry of Resource Allocation releases its annual budget scroll. It is thick. It is unreadable. It is tied with the same ribbon they used to close down the poetry school.
And once again, it appears the Kingdom has chosen to spend its gold not on roads, grain subsidies, or defense of our northern goat trail, but on such essential projects as “Strategic Outreach to Dormant Voters,” “Mobile Lute Appreciation Kiosks,” and, my personal favorite, “Research into the Emotional Impact of Seasonal Fog.”
It is my belief that there is no waste quite like government waste, because it is waste made not only with your money, but with the added insult of a seal, a trumpet, and a press release.
How did we come to this? There is, I think, a belief among certain bureaucratic types that all problems may be solved with the application of another layer of parchment and a moderately compensated fellow to carry it about.
Let us consider trimming the fat. Let us abolish the Office of Seasonal Enthusiasm, reassign the Parliamentarian of Umbrellas, and perhaps limit the number of advisory sub-councils per advisory council to something below 47.
If the Kingdom is to thrive, it must not only tax wisely — it must spend as though the coin came from something other than enchanted vines behind the palace.