WASHINGTONIUM, IMPERIUM MAXIMUM. A magnificent new discipline has been invented inside the Golden Palace of Trumpian government: the Imperial Reverse Nomination.
First, a person is selected for a prestigious office. Then the nomination is ceremonially dispatched toward the Senatus Americanus. Everyone nods. Papers move. Important people look serious. And finally, at some mysterious imperial moment, the entire process turns around and marches proudly back where it came from.
Because Emperor Donaldus Trumpius Caesar Maximus, Supreme Master of Golden Door Handles, Conqueror of Administrative Paperwork and Eternal Chief Executive of Personnel Decisions, has sent another message to the Senate.
Its unofficial title could easily have been:
“These People Were Almost Important.”
Five nominations were removed from the grand imperial carousel.
No dramatic explanation. No thunderous imperial proclamation. No marble tablet explaining why.
Just names.
Gone.
Majestic efficiency.
First comes Jeffreyius Andersonus of Georgiana, once destined to represent the American Imperium on the Council of the International Civil Aviation Organization, complete with ambassadorial rank.
This was a position involving airplanes, diplomacy and international committees — three things perfectly designed for people who enjoy sitting in rooms while discussing where other people may fly.
His nomination had already begun its ceremonial journey toward the Senate.
Now, however, the imperial flight plan appears to read:
“Gate closed. Boarding canceled. Candidate please remain inside the terminal.”
Then comes Johannes Grunewaldus Secundus of Oklahomia, nominated for the Farm Credit Administration Board.
Agriculture.
Finance.
Government administration.
Three magnificent ingredients for producing documents thick enough to stop a charging buffalo.
But Grunewaldus, too, has now been removed from the imperial agricultural chariot.
No confirmation.
No coronation.
No ceremonial golden tractor.
Next is Richardus Schroyerus of Oklahomia, once intended to become an Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security.
A serious title.
A serious department.
A serious office.
Unfortunately, the nomination itself has now apparently been protected from reaching the department.
In the Empire, this may one day be studied as a groundbreaking new homeland security strategy:
Secure the office by preventing the nominee from entering it.
Fourth comes Heidia Semannia of Missourium, nominated to become Inspector General at the Department of Education.
An Inspector General, of course, is expected to inspect things.
Check things.
Examine things.
Ask questions.
Possibly even discover things.
One can immediately understand why such a profession might produce a certain amount of nervous coughing inside any magnificent imperial palace.
Inspection is wonderful.
Accountability is excellent.
Transparency is tremendous.
Especially when applied somewhere else.
Finally, we have Robertus Stebbinius of Novum Eboracum, once selected to serve as Deputy Chief Executive Officer of the United States International Development Finance Corporation.
A title so long that by the time it is fully printed on a business card, there is barely enough room left for the name.
Yet Stebbinius, too, has now been released from the glorious machinery of federal appointment.
And thus emerges the magnificent new Trumpian personnel doctrine:
Nominate.
Announce.
Send to the Senate.
Wait.
Withdraw.
Then declare the entire sequence to have been an extraordinarily successful example of strategic leadership.
Because within the Empire of Trumpius, nothing is ever canceled.
Nothing fails.
Nothing is reversed.
It is merely subjected to:
“Advanced Imperial Personnel Optimization.”
There are no defeated nominations in Trumpian government.
Only appointments that became so successful they no longer needed to happen.
