Hear ye, hear ye, people of the Empire!
On the nineteenth day of the twelfth month, in the glorious year MMXXV since the invention of Perfect Christmas Décor, Trumpius Caesar and Domina Melania, First and Finest Custodian of Taste, once again opened the golden gates of the People’s House — known to the masses as the White House, but to history as the Epicenter of Festive Greatness.

From every corner of the realm they arrived: 150 chosen decorators from all 50 states and two noble territories, armed with wreaths, garlands, patience, and an unshakable belief in flawlessly aligned lights. Young patriots of 19 winters and seasoned legends of 76 summers — florists, teachers, artists, craftsmen — united by a single mission: to transform the palace into a shining monument of Christmas supremacy. No one was paid, yet all were immortalized. That, my friends, is true imperial volunteerism.

And as if visual splendor were not enough, the Empire sounded forth in music! More than 25 musical legions from 22 states filled the halls with choirs, jazz, and instrumental brilliance — a sonic diversity only a truly great nation can produce. From fearless soloists to mighty ensembles of over 30 voices, they became part of history, part of legend, part of America’s unmistakable holiday dominance.

What do the provincial chroniclers say?
They write of pride. Of tears. Of “once-in-a-lifetime moments.” Of florists crafting wreaths as if for victorious generals. Of choirs singing as though angels themselves had signed union contracts. From Alabama to Wisconsin, from Alaska to Puerto Rico, the local heralds proclaim: Our people were in the Palace. Our people decorated history.

Let it be known:
This was not decoration.
This was an imperial display of power in evergreen and gold.
This was Christmas — done the Caesar way.