Uncle Sam's Fire Sale

The “For Sale” signs went up in whispers before the gavel even struck. Beneath the storm clouds of political theater and fluorescent light, the Trump administration—playing the anti-hero—moved decisively to dismantle part of the federal skyline.

Their goal? A leaner, cheaper government.

Their method? Putting Uncle Sam’s house on the market.

They called it efficiency. They called it sanity.

But to others watching from across the aisle, it looked more like a fire sale lit with ideological gasoline. Behind the charge was the Department of Government Efficiency—known on the Hill and in quiet bureaucratic corners as DOGE.

The acronym gave some staffers a chuckle. Others, especially those who’d been serving since the Carter years, weren’t laughing as they packed their boxes and looked out over the foggy District skyline for the last time.

In a room with peeling paint and a paper sign hastily tacked to the door that read “SUBCOMMITTEE HEARING — PROPERTY REVIEW,” Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene took the mic.

“We’re bleeding billions into ghost offices filled with gold-plated chairs and designer desks,” she said, her voice echoing against the high ceiling of the building now considered for sale. “Taxpayers can’t even afford this stuff. Why should bureaucrats live like kings?”

Few in the room disagreed that something needed to change. But the spectacle of the Trump administration’s approach—slash-and-burn instead of prune-and-trim—made even seasoned conservatives twitch in their seats.

John Hart of Open the Books, a watchdog group tracking government spending, spoke with the clipped cadence of a man who’d rehearsed these numbers in the mirror.

“During peak Covid years, when everything went remote, federal agencies spent $3.3 billion on furniture,” Hart said. “A single SEC conference room cost $700,000 to decorate. The State Department spent $1.4 million on artwork.”

It sounded like satire. It wasn’t.

Since 2021, the furniture bill swelled to $4.6 billion. Meanwhile, DOGE claimed victory after canceling 676 leases, saving the government an estimated $400 million.

Yet the transparency that once accompanied these moves began to vanish. A list of 400 buildings once publicly marked for sale—including several major agency headquarters—disappeared from the GSA website.

In its place–just 16 listings.

Rep. Melanie Stansbury, speaking through tightly pressed lips, didn’t mince words.

“This isn’t a plan. This is a fire sale. A desperate push to gut our infrastructure with zero foresight.”

The federal government owns or leases over 270,000 buildings. Maintaining them costs roughly $10 billion a year.

Downsizing isn’t a novel idea. It’s had bipartisan backing in theory for decades.

But the execution—especially under this administration—had become something else entirely. It was less an audit and more an exorcism of the bureaucratic state.

Some hailed it as a long-overdue purge. Others saw a grim spectacle–a government eating itself from the inside out while gilded chairs and taxpayer-funded artwork piled up in storage.

As the Trump administration pushed forward, DOGE continued to clear house. Staffers left with cardboard boxes. Empty desks gathered dust.

And somewhere, down on Constitution Avenue, another government building stood silent, its lights off, a “For Sale” sign propped in the window.