A billion here… a billion there… pretty soon you’re talking about some real money. – Everett Dirksen’s Eccentric Aunt Tilly
At the moment, by far the most popular US government document over three hundred pages here in Washington is the Office of Management and Budget’s Report Pursuant to the Sequestration Transparency Act of 2012. For that minority of readers of this Web log who might not be entirely familiar with the nomenclature involved, “sequestration” is an artificial fiscal cliff that Congress constructed, then agreed to drive the United States off of, if its members could not, by January 2013, come up with a way to balance the federal budget. The Sequestration Transparency Act of 2102 is a law that Congress subsequently passed requiring, among other things, that prior to January 2013, the Office of Management and Budget be absolutely certain to tell the world exactly how much money would be automatically cut, or “sequestered” when America drives off that cliff, and from where in the federal budget it would be cut – that is, exactly whose ox would get gored; and to publish such notification sufficiently in advance of Congress having to actually do those terrible things so as to scare everybody in America enough to ensure that sequestration will not actually happen. Not that Public Law 112 – 155 says that in so many words, of course. But that’s the intent, and that’s what’s going on, and while it’s unlikely that a three hundred and ninety-four page OMB report is going to do anything to the average citizen other than induce a profound state of REM sleep by the third paragraph of the Introduction, the “OMB STAR Report,” as it has been dubbed by the local wonks, is generating plenty of excitement here inside the Beltway.
As might well be imagined, that excitement is a heady cocktail of apprehension, consternation and anxiety, and best chased with cocktails of another variety, made with at least one ingredient containing a minimum of forty percent ethyl alcohol. And plenty of those were being consumed at the Round Robin Bar last night, where I stopped by after work.
“Son of a [expletive]!” Barton from the Agriculture Department exclaimed, as he pounded his fist on the cocktail table so hard it shook his Hendrick’s double martini like a Los Angeles swimming pool during an earthquake. “Nineteen million cut from the Agricultural Buildings, Facilities and Rentals Account! Collins! Look a this! It’s outrageous! Thirty-nine million slashed from the Agricultural Extension Service! Seventy-one million ripped out of the Food and Plant Inspection Service! Seven million taken away from the Economic Research Service! Thirteen million gone – zip – from the National Agricultural Statistics Service!”
“Mighty grim statistic, that one,” I observed.
“No kidding,” Barton angrily vouched. “Tragic statistics at the Department of Agriculture are supposed to be about farmers, not us! And look at this: ninety million dollars cut from the Agricultural Research Service! Eighty-two million taken away from the Market, Income and Supply Strengthening Fund! Ninety-eight million, Tom – poof! Out the window! Ninety-eight million gone from the Farm Services Agency salaries and expenses! Thirty-three million – gone – simply eliminated, I tell you – from the Agricultural Credit Insurance Fund! One hundred and four million missing from the Agricultural Disaster Relief Fund! And get this, Tom – four hundred and sixty-nine million deducted from the Commodity Credit Corporation! Two hundred and twenty million taken away from the Farm Security and Rural Investment Program! And look – they’re going to take eighteen million out of the Watershed Flood Prevention Fund; forty-one million gone from the Rural Water and Waste Disposal Program Account; seventy-four million slashed from the Rural Rental Assistance Program; forty-two million deducted from the Rural Housing Insurance Fund; one-hundred and twenty million in subsidized Food for Peace agricultural exports; five hundred and forty-three million dollars taken away from the Women, Infants and Children Nutrition Program; one hundred and twenty-nine million torn out of the Forest System; seventy-two million held back from the Forest Service; sixty-nine million missing from the Natural Resources Conservation Service; one hundred and seventy two million dollars missing from Wildfire Management…
“How about this item?” I inquired as I leaned over his shoulder to examine his copy of the report.
“Why, that’s seven million vital dollars torn from the very heart of the USDA Departmental Administration Nondefense Function,” he bitterly complained.
“And what’s the USDA Departmental Administration Nondefense Function?” I inquired.
“I… I… well, I don’t know, exactly,” he admitted. “But with a name like ‘USDA Departmental Administration Nondefense Function,’ you can bet your keister it’s got to be pretty damned important!”
“Excuse me while I get a drink,” I replied.
“Uh, sure,” Barton nodded. “But come on back, okay? I’ve got a whole lot more of these.”
The USDA is a pretty big federal department, and Barton has plenty of line items to obsess over, no doubt about it. But his state of high dungeon paled in comparison to Jenkins, who works at the Department of Defense. When I sidled up to the bar to order my first drink of the evening, he was obviously already well into his third, or possibly fourth.
“Collins,” he irascibly growled, jabbing an accusing finger at the Report, “have you seen what those [expletive] suckers up on Capitol Hill are going to do to America’s warriors?”
“Well,” I began, “as a matter of fact…”
“They’re going to [expletive] us,” Jenkins interrupted in a fit of self-righteous indignation, “that’s what! They’re going to [expletive] us right in the [expletive] with no [expletive] Vaseline, that’s what! Look at this [expletive], Tom! Sixteen billion, two hundred and seventy-nine million dollars slashed from Army, Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps Operations and Maintenance – and that doesn’t even count another three billion, eight hundred and seventy-nine million those bastards are going to take directly from the Pentagon O and M budget! And this here – two billion, two hundred forty million taken away from aircraft procurement and another two billion, one hundred and forty-one million cut from shipbuilding – just from the Navy! One billion, two hundred and fifty-one million slashed from the Army’s Miscellaneous Procurements, and another two billion, two hundred and twenty-six million gutted from the Air Force! That’s inexcusable! Do you have any idea how important Miscellaneous Procurements are to the United States Army and Air Force? And here – see? Another two billion and ten million dollars withheld from Air Force aircraft procurement! How the [expletive] are we supposed to have a [expletive] Air Force without any [expletive] aircraft, can you riddle me that, riddle-master? And check this out – research and development cuts, all across the board – nine hundred and fifty-four million for the Army, two billion seven hundred and seventeen million for the Navy, one billion seven hundred and seventy-seven million for the Air Force, and two billion and seven million for the Defense Department and Pentagon. And look at this – they’re going to take one billion, three hundred and twenty-five million out of Afghanistan NATO support! How the hell can they do that, Tom? Don’t those [expletive] idiots in Congress know NATO can’t take a [expletive] if Uncle Sam doesn’t have quarter for them to put in the [expletive] pay toilet slot? And lemme tell ya, Tom, those NATO allies of ours are totally full of [expletive], all the [expletive] time! So now you tell me, Tom, how the [expletive] can we possibly maintain the appearance of a joint, multi-lateral NATO operation in Afghanistan without a huge [expletive] stack of quarters?”
“Understandable,” I agreed. “How about this one – three billion two hundred and sixty-nine million in cuts to the Defense Health Program?”
“Huh?” Jenkins grunted as he stared, somewhat unsteadily, where I was pointing. “Oh, yeah, that [expletive] sucks, too.”
“You think he’s got problems?” Burnside, who works for the Department of Health and Human Services, asked as he waved his copy of the Report under my nose with one hand while gesticulating with a Patrón añejo margarita in the other. “DHHS has an even bigger budget than DoD, and you know what that means – a bigger bite out of our piece of the pie! Two hundred and eighty-five million gone from the Low Income Home Energy Assistance Program; three hundred and twenty-three million gone from State Child Care and Social Security Block Grants; eight hundred and twelve million cut from Children and Families Services and another one hundred and twenty-one million torn out of the Aging Services Program! Four hundred and sixty-four million dollars in cuts to the Centers for Disease Control! Four billion, nine hundred and three million dollars cut from the Supplementary Medical Insurance Fund, five billion, six hundred and seven million cut from the Federal Hospital Insurance Trust Fund, five hundred and fifty-nine million cut from the Medicare Prescription Drug Account; three hundred million cut from the FDA; five hundred and nine million cut from the Public Health Service; and three hundred and seventeen million cut from the Indian Health Service! And get this, Tom – two billion, five hundred and eighteen million dollars taken away from the National Institutes of Health!”
“Oh yeah?” A sharp voice pierced the air behind my right ear.
Recognizing it, I turned to see Dworkin, who’s with the Department of Education. “How about one billion, two hundred and ninety-one million dollars in cuts to the Head Start Program and one billion, thirty-six million dollars in cuts to Special Education?”
“Well how about one billion, five hundred and thirty million bucks ripped off outta low-income Tenant Rental Assistance?” Jefferson-Oulimaju from HUD demanded, brandishing her Courvoisier and Coke.
“Or one billion, eighteen million dollars withheld from the Unemployment Trust Fund,” interjected O’Leary, who works at the Department of Labor, as he signaled the bartender for a refill of Yuengling.
“With what happened this week in Libya,” opined Williams, who is at the State Department, between sips of his Absolut lemon Cosmopolitan, “you’d think people would see the insanity implied with a one billion, eighty-four million dollar cut to Diplomatic and Consular Programs.”
“And with what happened this week on Mars,” exclaimed Dalton from NASA, after fortifying himself with a gulp of his Red Bull and Grey Goose, “you could say the same thing about one billion four hundred and fifty-one million dollars in cuts to the space program.”
An awkward moment of silence ensued as the other bureaucrats glared at Dalton. “All NASA got was a lousy one billion, four hundred and fifty million in cuts?” Jenkins fumed. “How’d you space cadets manage that, huh?”
“Um… well… NASA’s not all that big, you know,” Dalton responded in a defensive voice. “Plus, the cuts are supposed to be proportional, across the board and all – between seven and eight percent, um… for the budget items that got sequestered, anyway, you know, because, like, if you look at the Report, you can see that they don’t touch a lot of things – student loans, the Veteran’s Administration, all kinds of stuff. And anyway, uh… why pick on NASA? Look at the Environmental Protection Agency – they’re only slated to get seven hundred and sixteen million in cuts, total.”
“How the hell did those tree-hugging hippies at EPA manage that,” Barton wondered in a slightly sarcastic and combative tone, “while the farmers of America are getting screwed?”
“The EPA’s smaller than NASA,” I explained, “and furthermore, they have lots of no-year money from revolving funds that collect fines from polluters; revolving funds that were set up to keep the agency from being subject to… well, situations like this sequestering nonsense, for example, that depend on appropriations, and therefore on the volatile political vicissitudes of a fickle and feckless Congress.”
“Right,” Dalton agreed. “And besides, Barton, get a grip, okay? Nobody’s actually been screwed – yet. This report is just a reminder of what a total, irredeemable mess we’ll all be in if Congress doesn’t stop squabbling, quit bickering, knock off the partisan back-stabbing and do its job – do it right, do it honestly, do it quickly and do it pretty damn soon!”
Another awkward moment of silence ensued as everyone considered Dalton’s second show-stopping comment in less than five minutes.
“In that case,” Burnside groaned, “we’re [expletive] doomed.”
“Oh… my bad,” Dalton confessed, blushing bright red. “Yeah… um… Congress… uh-huh. Okay – everybody order up. I’m buying.”