Apparently, standing still and not turning a profit was provocation enough

On a Tuesday in March, with the quiet confidence of a man dismantling a smoke alarm because it keeps going off, the administration of Donald Trump set about hollowing out the United States Forest Service—an agency older than most of the buildings in Washington, created when conservation was still considered a virtue and not an inconvenience.

They did it, naturally, with a press release.

No vote. No hearings. No moment where someone might stand up and ask, in plain English, what exactly is being done to 193 million acres of public land. Just a document—sterile, jargon-soaked, written in the linguistic equivalent of chloroform. “Mission delivery.” “Operational realignment.” Words designed not to inform, but to sedate.

Most fathers teach their daughters to parallel park. Kim Jong-un has upgraded to armored vehicles.

There comes a moment in every parent’s life when they hand over responsibility and hope for the best.

Usually, it’s car keys.

Occasionally, it’s a debit card.

In extreme cases, it’s the Wi-Fi password.

Kim Jong-un has chosen to begin with a tank.