Nothing runs like a Deere

I've been suffering from a severe case of Mind Your Own Business lately.  It is personally profitable in one way or another, but it wrecks havoc on my favorite self-image. If I neglect my duties as a scourge of thieving politicians and goofy, power-mad, government minions everywhere, why am I continuing to consume precious oxygen?

What profits me if my kitchen is cleaner, the bank account slightly less laughable, and the lawn machinery tuned and ready for The Moon When the Crabgrass Thickens? If, I mean, all that selfishness is at the expense of omitting seditious comment on official ignorance piled upon bureaucratic stupidity upon political venality?

One hopes that St. Peter does not ask such a question, but just in case, I strive here for a tiny down payment on partial redemption.

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Early in February I noticed my passport was expired.  I cross guarded borders only rarely  any more, but who knows, so I sent John  Kerry my $110 and a couple pages of personally identifying information. The form promised processing in four-to-six weeks. About three weeks later the check cleared. Three weeks after that I received a nice email from John saying my application had been received and that processing would take four-to-six weeks. Then, a week later, John joyfully wrote me that my "application" had been "approved," that the Department of State of the United States of America had deployed its vast resources and concluded that I am me, the same me as identified on previous passports.

And Secretary Kerry reported that it had been mailed already, on April 2 or perhaps earlier. It included a note:

"You requested delivery by regular mail. Passport Agencies use Priority Mail. This means you should receive your passport on or about 04/07/2015."

Until reading this I had no strong urge to mock the U.S. Postal Service -- or perhaps John's trust in Snail Mail.

But waidaminnut. Priority Mail is advertised as, well, priority; faster than Bill Cody's speeding pony, more rapid than a New Jersey senator's grab for a bit cash.

I think my passport is coming from New Orleans, 1,203.3 miles distant, or, with six days elapsed time as predicted by the Secretary of State, an average of barely more than 200 miles per day.

Excuse me, Gentlemen, but I think with fresh spark plugs, on-the-fly refueling, and relief drivers,  we might do about that well using my lawn tractor. If not, there is always the pony option.

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Hell, I'm in no rush for the passport. Take your time John, mailman, et al.  The only big deal here is a reminder that government always, in matters from the largest to the smallest, speaks with a forked tongue.