Holy Optics, Imperium. Rule by cant and scant just leads to more scat in that Swamp your Potentate Of Hunt and Peck bemoans about and before sunrise and damn near daily on the Twitter.
Fritter it away. The Federal City. Formerly a Capital of concern regarding the Nation’s well being, and where the peoples’ business was managed, and history made, it now turns on the provincial prejudices and small bore conceits that you deposit into The District during your weekly three day visits.
While it’s understandable to stump on the rump real of being dismissed as Fly Over Country, to counter with the porpoise politics of but up and down to airport in and out of the city never allows one to come to terms with the institutional rhythm of the seat of power you have sworn to protect.
Have a seat. Sit a spell. Do your damn job.