WASHINGTONIUM — On the sacred observance of Child Health Day, Imperator Donaldus Trumpius Maximus Caesar emerged between the golden columns of the White Palatium to deliver a message so medically majestic that Hippocrates himself would probably have reached for the warning label.
America’s children, Caesar declared, are the future of the Empire.
And the future cannot possibly be tremendous if it spends the entire afternoon sitting on a couch, eating fluorescent snacks and staring at six screens simultaneously while watching videos of other people eating fluorescent snacks.
Trumpius therefore surveyed the health of America’s youth with imperial concern. Obesity, diabetes, allergies, autoimmune diseases and mental health challenges have become serious concerns. Autism was also included in the original imperial message — although the Palatium should remember that complicated medical questions do not become scientifically settled merely because Caesar prints them on larger parchment.
And so Trumpius announced that the Empire shall investigate.
Not with ordinary science.
Certainly not.
With Gold Standard Science.
Apparently, regular science had been suffering from an unfortunate shortage of precious metals.
From now on, scientific findings will presumably become official only after being researched, peer-reviewed, stamped by the Imperial Bureau of Tremendous Knowledge and carried into the Oval Temple on a velvet cushion by a centurion wearing a golden toga.
Make Pueri Healthy Again!
At the heart of the imperial offensive stands the mighty strategy of Make Pueri Healthy Again, developed by the venerable Commissio Magna Sanitatis Americanae.
Its mission is enormous.
Prevention shall improve.
Research shall uncover causes of disease.
Children shall exercise.
Screen time shall decline.
And artificial food dyes shall be driven from the Empire.
This last proposal caused immediate panic throughout the imperial breakfast industry.
For generations, America had followed one simple nutritional principle:
If a breakfast cereal glows brightly enough to illuminate the kitchen at night, there is probably a cartoon tiger somewhere on the box.
Those glorious days may now be numbered.
Trumpius Caesar has declared war on the Chemical Rainbow Legion.
Several breakfast cereals immediately applied for political asylum in Canada.
Others attempted to disguise themselves as granola.
The Tablet Becomes an Enemy of Rome
Physical activity has also attracted the attention of the Palatium.
Children are apparently supposed to start running again.
Outside.
Using their legs.
It is a revolutionary technology reportedly tested with considerable success during ancient Roman times.
Screen time, meanwhile, is expected to decline. Imperial advisers are therefore examining whether smartphones could occasionally be replaced with bicycles, sticks and those mysterious spherical devices once known to previous civilizations as “balls.”
Initial reports from American children have been alarming.
The devices have no Wi-Fi.
No charging port.
No touchscreen.
Worse still:
You have to move them yourself.
The Department of Energy has been informed.
Kennedius and the Imperial Ingredient Scrolls
The imperial health sage Robertus F. Kennedius Junior Maximus, High Priest of the Health Forum and Grand Master of the Ingredient Scrolls, now faces the enormous task of inspecting the nutritional cupboards of the Empire.
Rumor has it that merely whispering the word “dye” somewhere in Washingtonium is enough to make an executive nervously turn over a food package.
The food industry is therefore expected to modernize its vocabulary.
“Artificial flavor” may soon become Traditional Patriotic Taste Enhancement.
“Food coloring” could be renamed Visual Freedom Optimization.
And sugar will obviously become Edible Energy Independence.
Problem solved.
The ingredients remain exactly where they were, but the label now sounds like it could win an election in Ohio.
Behold: Golden Science
Trumpius also insists that parents receive trustworthy information and make decisions using the finest available science.
But inside the White Palatium, merely calling it “science” would be terribly modest.
It is Gold Standard Science.
That sounds much more imperial.
Ordinary science suddenly resembles something purchased from a discount shelf at a highway gas station.
The new imperial science must, of course, remain rigorous, transparent and reliable.
Every approved study may soon receive a golden seal reading:
SCIENTIA MAXIMA — Looked At Very Strongly by Caesar.
Peer review was yesterday.
Welcome to Imperial Review.
The Healthiest Caesar in Recorded History
The proclamation became particularly majestic when Trumpius highlighted favorable health developments and positioned them conveniently close to his own reign.
This follows one of the oldest natural laws of Trumpius:
If something good rises, Trumpius did it.
If something bad falls, Trumpius also did it.
If something stays exactly the same, Trumpius prevented it from becoming catastrophically worse under another Caesar.
And if something existed before Trumpius arrived, it was retroactively invented during his administration.
This is how ordinary public-health statistics achieve their final transformation into Imperial Statistics.
Beneath all the golden marble and triumphant trumpets, however, sits a perfectly reasonable objective: children should grow up healthier, parents should receive reliable medical information, diseases should be researched carefully, preventive care should improve and children should be encouraged to move more.
But Trumpius Caesar would never permit such ideas to remain merely sensible.
No.
They must become a historic mission.
A crusade.
A national rebirth.
A Golden Age of healthy Pueri Americani, where children eat vegetables, play outdoors and medical research triumphs while artificial food dyes are marched in chains through the Forum Washingtonium.
The Birth of Trumpccoli
And so the imperial proclamation concludes with a promise to make America’s children healthy again.
Inside the Palatium, victory is presumably already considered almost complete.
The food dyes are intimidated.
The tablets are under surveillance.
The apple has been politically rehabilitated.
And broccoli is awaiting final national-security classification.
Because Trumpius Caesar does not merely want healthier children.
He wants the healthiest children who have ever been children.
Children so healthy that physicians salute when entering the examination room.
Children whose fitness watches display HISTORIC! before they have even taken their first step.
Children beside whom a Roman legionary looks like he urgently needs six weeks of medical leave.
And if scientists eventually confirm that nutritious food, exercise, sensible screen habits and high-quality medical care really do help children, Trumpius Caesar will emerge between the golden columns of the White Palatium, spread his hands before the assembled Empire and declare:
“Nobody knew before me that children should be healthy. Nobody. I practically invented health.”
Broccoli will then immediately be designated a national treasure.
But only after it has been painted gold, awarded an Imperial Seal of Tremendous Nutrition and officially renamed:
Trumpccoli.
And by sunrise the following morning, the White Palatium will issue another historic announcement:
Trumpius Caesar has invented vegetables.
The healthiest vegetables ever created.
Many doctors are saying it.
