GRANDIS INSULA, PROVINCIA NEBRASKUS — There are trips. There are presidential visits. There are historic occasions. And then there is the moment Imperator Donaldus Trumpius Maximus Caesar sets foot in Nebraska.
At that precise instant, according to the Imperial Office of Magnificent Announcements at the White Palatium, the corn grows straighter, the cattle moo more patriotically, and federal tax forms voluntarily surrender.
Trumpius Caesar has traveled to Grandis Insula to deliver an important message to the citizens of Nebraskus:
Things are going well.
Very well.
Possibly the best that anything has ever gone anywhere.
And if somebody in Nebraska has somehow failed to notice this historic magnificence, that is presumably because they have not been reading enough official Imperial press releases.
The Great Tax Liberation of the Trumpian Empire
First comes the magnificent Lex Familiae Laborantis, the Imperial tax law that, according to the Palatium, prevented the greatest tax increase in American history.
This is an especially impressive victory because the tax increase never actually arrived.
Trumpius therefore achieved something few emperors have accomplished before him: He defeated a tax increase before citizens could even meet it.
Tips?
Less tax!
Overtime?
Less tax!
Seniors?
Deductions!
Refunds?
Bigger!
Trumpius has thereby created an entirely new branch of economics:
Money the government does not take from you can now be presented as a personal gift from the Emperor.
Ancient Rome would have built a marble triumphal arch for such an achievement.
Nebraska may have to settle for a podium beside a cornfield.
The Imperial treasury is also pouring money into rural healthcare, while jobs, wages and economic output are being protected with figures so magnificent that the Imperial accountants presumably require ceremonial trumpets whenever they open a spreadsheet.
According to the White Palatium, without Trumpius, Nebraska might already have become one abandoned tractor sitting beside a closed gas station.
Farmers, Cattle and the Sacred E15
The Emperor has reserved particular affection for farmers and ranchers.
Trumpius understands that ruling Nebraska requires mastery of three essential subjects:
Corn, cattle and additional corn.
Thus E15 received Imperial favor, expanding opportunities for ethanol and finally giving corn the political recognition it has deserved after centuries of humiliating service as food, animal feed and movie-theater ammunition.
Farmers have also received substantial assistance through federal programs designed to help them survive difficult economic conditions.
The Palatium presents this as proof of the tremendous success of Trumpian agricultural policy.
Farmers receive assistance because farmers require assistance.
The fact that they receive assistance proves the policy is successful.
And the success of the policy proves that the assistance was necessary.
Imperial economics is wonderfully circular.
Ranchers, meanwhile, have received their own Imperial decrees.
Trumpius has taken action involving wolves, cattle markets, competition and country-of-origin labeling.
Thus the mighty American rancher shall no longer stand alone against bureaucracy, unfair markets and suspiciously hungry woodland creatures.
In the Trumpian Empire, a wolf may still howl at the moon.
But preferably only after determining whether the Department of Agriculture requires a permit.
Factories! Jobs! Syringes!
Then comes the Imperial industrial treasure chest.
Eatonus Electricus is expanding manufacturing in Nebraskus, producing electrical equipment for the mighty data centers of America.
Meanwhile, Bectonus Dickinsonius is expanding production of medical syringes.
Nebraska therefore marches toward an industrial future featuring more electrical equipment and more needles.
Outside an economic press release, that combination might sound slightly alarming.
Inside the White Palatium, however, it is called a Manufacturing Renaissance.
Every factory expansion becomes another personal triumph for Trumpius.
Somewhere in Nebraska, a forklift operator may turn an ignition key tomorrow morning, and within minutes an Imperial scribe could begin drafting:
“PRESIDENT TRUMPIUS UNLEASHES HISTORIC AMERICAN FORKLIFT RENAISSANCE.”
By lunchtime, it will probably be the greatest forklift renaissance in recorded history.
Possibly world history.
Perhaps forklift history itself.
Pax Trumpiana Descends Upon Omaha
Finally comes law and order.
The Imperial scroll points toward falling crime figures in Omaha and Lincoln.
Several categories of crime have declined.
For Trumpius Caesar, the explanation practically writes itself.
Trumpius governs.
Crime falls.
Therefore crime must have heard that Trumpius was coming and fled Nebraska before Air Force One landed.
Unconfirmed Imperial reports suggest several nervous car thieves have already reached the Colorado border and requested political asylum.
Thus arrives the Pax Trumpiana:
Peace through presence.
Order through proclamation.
Security through sufficiently large capital letters.
Soon, criminals may no longer need to be arrested at all. They can simply be shown the latest White Palatium press release until they surrender from statistical exhaustion.
And Nebraskus Beheld Its Benefactor
At the end of his journey, Trumpius Caesar may gaze proudly across the magnificent Province of Nebraskus.
Taxes have been lowered.
Farmers have been supported.
Ranchers have been defended.
Factories have expanded.
Crime has fallen.
Corn has been elevated from crop to strategic Imperial resource.
And above it all floats the eternal doctrine of the Trumpian Palatium:
Promised. Kept. Announced. Announced again. Then declared historic just to be safe.
Because nothing simply happens in the Empire of Donaldus Trumpius Maximus Caesar.
A factory does not expand.
It experiences a renaissance.
A tax deduction is not merely a tax deduction.
It is the liberation of the American worker.
A federal agriculture payment is not government assistance.
It is Imperial gold descending upon the fields.
And if a Nebraska steer is peacefully chewing grass beneath the evening sun, there can be only one explanation:
Trumpius personally prevented it from being eaten by a wolf, taxed by Washington, regulated by bureaucrats, outsourced to China and replaced by an imported cow of extremely questionable patriotism.
And so Trumpius Caesar departed Nebraskus, leaving behind a land where the cattle still grazed, the factories still operated and the corn still grew — but where millions had finally been informed who apparently deserved the credit for photosynthesis.
