#652 Vegetation Misconduct

So the other day, I was reminded twice in one day of vegetables. And not the plant type either.
Well, actually it started with the plant type. A power company person was addressing an assembled body about the challenges faced by his team of power purveyors when it came to vegetation management.
Vegetation management.
It sounded so bureaucrat-eze, so gov-speak, that for a moment I forgot that the guy talking worked for a privately-held, for-profit company. Which supports my previous conviction that the larger an entity—public OR private—the more bureaucracy increases.
In any event, the term “vegetation management” had my twisted brain going two ways. In one Gary Larson section of my brain, I had a bunch of plants gathered around a conference table, each of them discussing various aspects of vegetile governance.
A committee of plants if you will.
A stately fir at the head of the table, dispensing conifer-like caution. A carrot posturing at one end, representing the tuber interests. A couple of flowers; an annual looking for short-term profit solutions and a perennial willing to reinvest for a further cycle of growth.
You get it, vegetation management.
The other half of my brain went to the brain dead—unfortunate individuals with no cerebral function needing long-term care and all the associate challenges.
Having the power company guy talking about emergency power to hospitals in one breath and vegetation management in the next led my brain down a dangerous path indeed.
Then, later that day, a news story sent me back down that same path. An individual was charged with abusing his caregiver privileges with helpless patients in a sordid way.
The newscaster said the guy was going to be charged with custodial misconduct.
Another bureaucratic phrase. It, of course, meant he used bad conduct with the people who were in his custody.
But “custodial misconduct”?
It sounds like he has a perverted fetish for a broom or something.
Or was caught red-handed, bleary-eyed and wrung out, after an unspeakable act with a mop.
America, ya gotta love it