Panic swept through the golden palace of Washingtonium: A Canadian valve had shown absolutely no respect for American trade supremacy. It simply opened and closed. No gratitude. No investment pledge. Not even a faint presidential whistle.
Trumpius Caesar acted immediately.
With a magnificent proclamation, the self-appointed protector of every working American ordered another reshuffling of tariffs against the rebellious maple realm of Canadiana. Plywood sheets, certain paper products, selected machinery, refrigeration equipment, and packing crates were permitted to leave the imperial economic dungeon.
Valves, carpets, and assorted waste products would take their places.
“These carpets have let people walk all over us for years,” Caesar thundered. “Disgraceful treatment. A truly fair carpet would have moved its entire production to America already. Beautiful American fibers. Very patriotic fringe.”
The assembled court scribes nodded so vigorously that the palace briefly achieved energy independence.
Plywood accepted its pardon with dignity. It had consistently maintained that it consisted of several glued layers and had only a superficial connection to Canadian foreign policy. The packing crates also expressed relief. They had spent weeks accused of carrying American prosperity overseas, despite having arrived demonstrably empty.
Now the imperial wrath descended upon the carpet.
It was already lying down.
According to the palace, Canadiana had provoked this latest maneuver by refusing to recognize American tariffs as affectionate invitations to surrender. Instead, the maple kingdom had imposed tariffs of its own.
An outrageous breach of etiquette.
When Caesar collected money, it was fairness. When Canadiana collected money, it was discrimination.
To establish the legal foundation, Treasury Quaestor Tariffus produced an ancient statute from the previous century. This venerable scroll authorized the emperor to amend his tariff proclamations whenever the public interest required it.
The emperor would explain what the public interest required.
For everyone’s convenience, the public had been excused from this portion of the proceedings.
Particular excitement greeted the announcement that the covered goods could face these tariffs even if they qualified under the North American trade agreement known as USMCA. The agreement was promptly placed in the palace museum, where visitors could admire how handsome free trade looked behind protective glass.
Other applicable tariffs could still be stacked on top.
Caesar called this “layered protection.”
The imperial kitchen called it lasagna, except every layer came with a separate invoice.
To demonstrate the brilliance of the strategy, palace heralds unveiled a grand procession of investment announcements. Generalis Motoricus presented factory plans. The pharmaceutical alchemists of UCBius pledged a new production facility. The island empire of Nipponia brought promises of chip factories in Nova York.
Every announcement was entered into a golden calculator equipped with a single button: plus.
Manufacturing was expanding, the heralds proclaimed. This proved that every tariff decision had been correct—including the decisions now being revised.
The palace described this as unwavering flexibility.
The new product list would take effect at the end of October. Customs officials would have until then to distinguish carpets from paper, valves from machinery, and imperial strategy from the previous edition.
American businesses received a similarly straightforward assignment: Determine which essential supplies had most recently become enemies of the realm.
Trumpius Caesar surveyed his achievement with satisfaction. Plywood had been liberated. Carpets had been disciplined. Even Canadian garbage had been placed under imperial scrutiny.
At last, the trash would answer for where it came from.
