History has once again been made inside the Great Golden Palace of Washingtonia.
Or, more precisely, three signatures were added to three bills — which, in the Empire of Trumpius Caesar, is basically the same thing.
His Supreme Magnificence, Imperator Donaldus Trumpius Maximus, First of His Name, Conqueror of Unruly Paperwork, Guardian of the Golden Marker, and Eternal Protector of Properly Filed Legislative Documents, has placed his imperial signature upon three fresh works of senatorial craftsmanship.
And with that, water, fish, and retirement have officially been brought under control.
The Empire may sleep peacefully again.
First Decree: Freedom for the Water
The first imperial scroll amends the Crow Tribe Water Rights Settlement framework, giving the Crow Nation in Montana greater flexibility to complete certain water projects on reservation lands.
Inside the Golden Palace, this was immediately treated as a historic victory over one of nature’s most dangerous habits:
Water keeps flowing downhill without first asking permission from the federal government.
Unacceptable.
Trumpius Caesar is said to have nodded gravely after signing the bill.
“Water,” declared one imaginary palace chronicler, “is very important. Possibly the wettest thing we have.”
No further explanation was required.
Imperial engineers may now proceed with pipes, infrastructure, reservoirs, and other advanced forms of hydraulic wizardry without being defeated by ancient administrative parchment buried somewhere in a cabinet marked “Pending Since Forever.”
Ancient Rome had aqueducts.
Washingtonia has amendment language.
Progress.
Second Decree: The Great Fish Passport Begins
Then came perhaps the most majestic law of them all:
The Illegal Red Snapper and Tuna Enforcement Act.
At long last, the Empire shall no longer stand helpless while suspicious seafood enters American kitchens under questionable national identities.
The Department of Commerce must develop a standardized chemical method for identifying the country of origin of seafood.
Thus begins a glorious new era of underwater border security.
One can already imagine a nervous tuna approaching an imperial checkpoint.
“Country of origin?”
Blub.
“Documents?”
Blub.
“Chemical analysis!”
The Empire strikes back.
Palace officials are reportedly not yet considering fingerprints for shrimp, but in Washingtonia anything remains possible.
Lobsters may soon be asked whether they have maintained contact with foreign algae.
Clams, of course, could face immediate suspicion for refusing to talk.
And red snapper?
Their age of anonymous globalization is officially over.
Third Decree: Retirement Through Ownership
Trumpius Caesar also signed the Retire Through Ownership Act, known in more practical imperial circles as the “Retirement-Through-Shares-and-Please-Do-Not-Ask-Too-Many-Questions Act.”
The law updates ERISA by defining what counts as adequate consideration for certain closely held stock.
It is a subject of such breathtaking clarity that even experienced senators may have reached the third paragraph, nodded solemnly, and decided that understanding was no longer necessary.
The Palace, naturally, declared that the law provides “clarity.”
And nothing says clarity quite like a federal statute explaining what another federal statute meant by a term that apparently required a new federal statute to explain it.
Anyone seeking a precise definition may consult the legislation.
Anyone still confused may consult the guidance.
Anyone who understands everything afterward should probably be appointed Imperial Treasurer immediately.
Civilization marches on.
Three Laws. One Caesar. Infinite Greatness.
By the end of the day, three freshly signed laws rested upon the golden desk of the Imperator.
Water may flow more flexibly.
Fish must prove where they came from.
And private company shares must know what they are worth before somebody retires with them.
A normal government might describe these as three useful but highly technical legislative changes.
Washingtonia does not believe in normal.
In the Empire of Trumpius Maximus, every signature is treated as though Jupiter himself personally delivered the legislation on a lightning bolt.
Past rulers built roads, marched armies, and raised monuments.
Alexander the Great conquered Persia.
Julius Caesar conquered Gaul.
Augustus reorganized Rome.
Trumpius Maximus?
Trumpius made a tuna prove its nationality.
And so this golden age shall be remembered.
Not for discovering a new continent.
Not for building a triumphal arch.
Not for conquering an empire.
But for the historic day when Washingtonia looked a red snapper directly in the eye and declared:
“Papers, please.”
The fish had none.
The Empire had won.
