What do you get when you cross Barney Frank with Old Man Winter? On March 1, a Sunday snow job (“Snow calls attention to infrastructure”).

Let’s guess that Barney has recently been stuck in white-out road conditions on one or more of his treks between Maine and his Bay State home, leaving him plenty of time to fulminate on unplowed roads and, by extension, the sorry state of infrastructure brought on by – who else, right-wing Republicans. In Barney’s world of nearly universal victimization, there’s not much that can’t be blamed on those infernal, eternal obstructionists.

Speaking of extensions and infrastructure, why couldn’t the Big Dig be extended from Boston all the way up and under the coast to, let’s say, Ogunquit? It’s quite likely that Barney is on a first-name basis with at least some of the original Big Diggers. He could negotiate one heck of a deal with them, with cost overruns not to exceed 1,000 percent – unless, of course, the prevailing Davis-Bacon (emphasis on the bacon) wage rates called for other justified excess.

We’d be treated to a multitrillion-dollar (snowless) tunnel, requiring only us to “increase our collective resources,” Barney’s euphemism for accepting a tax hike. Oh, well, it can’t happen because of a few right-wing Scrooges, probably (supported, strangely, by a multitude of righteous environmentalists).

Forward march. February, the gold ball month, just like Ayn Rand, is passé. March is the month of madness with the calendar trying to persuade us that spring has arrived. Ah, such gall, such bold gall. If somebody handed out bold gall awards, Barney would qualify simply by dint of his unrelenting presumption of moral and intellectual superiority over hapless conservatives.

Snow job? Blarney, frankly.