The Great Imperial Hiring Festival Begins
WASHINGTONIUM — There are days when an emperor governs. There are days when an emperor makes history. And then there are days when Trumpius Caesar Maximus Personalissimus apparently receives the organizational chart of the entire American Empire, looks at all the empty boxes, and declares:
“WE NEED MY PEOPLE!”
Thus began the Magna Nominatio Septembris, perhaps the greatest personnel ceremony since Julius Caesar discovered that Rome could never have too many officials.
Inside the Palatium Album, servants reportedly unrolled an enormous scroll containing names from Tennessee to Alaska.
“A beautiful scroll,” Trumpius might have proclaimed. “Possibly the greatest scroll ever created. Very strong names. Incredible names. Some of them I may even know!”
An unfortunate imperial clerk allegedly whispered that it was actually a spreadsheet.
He has not been heard from since.
Trumpius Discovers Judges — Lots of Judges
First came the judiciary.
Because every magnificent empire needs judges. Preferably enough judges to make the Senatus forget which confirmation hearing it is currently holding.
Forward march Samuelus Adkissonius of Tennesseum, Philippus Axtius of Dakota Septentrionalis, Danielus Ballouius of Kentuckium, Richardus Bennettus Texanus, and Courtneia Cokeria.
Behind them comes an entire judicial legion: Bradfordus Kelleyus, Robertus Longius Secundus, Petrus Mansfieldius, Jesus Osetius, Trevorus Pembertonius, Kylus Reardonius, and Zacharius Westius.
Together they form the mighty Legio Iudicaria Trumpiana.
Even Alaska gets an imperial judicial nominee in Reardonius, because justice must reach every corner of the Empire — even places where the courthouse parking lot may occasionally be occupied by a moose.
Higher judicial elevations are also available.
Leus Rudofskius is nominated for the mighty Circuitus Octavus, while Jacobus Quinnus is summoned to judge veterans' claims for fifteen years.
Fifteen years!
That is approximately 73 political eras, 14 government shutdown threats, and enough social-media posts to fill the Library of Alexandria twice.
Meanwhile, Claria Murrayia and Ludovicus Restrepius are nominated again for the Sentencing Commission.
Recycling, but imperial.
The Navy Receives an Entire Command Structure
Then Trumpius turned toward the sea.
A lesser emperor might appoint one senior naval official.
Trumpius Caesar does not believe in lesser anything.
Thus Hungus Cao Maximus is nominated as Secretarius Navalis. But because one important naval official could dangerously resemble administrative restraint, Richardus Breckenridgius is proposed as an Assistant Secretary and Gulielmus Totius as an Under Secretary.
The Imperial Navy may therefore soon possess enough senior leadership to personally ask every aircraft carrier how it is feeling.
“Ships love us,” Trumpius might explain. “Nobody understands ships like we do. Tremendous ships. Very floating.”
Ambassadors! Ambassadors Everywhere!
Then came diplomacy.
And Trumpius Caesar demonstrated that foreign policy is largely a matter of producing sufficient quantities of embossed business cards.
Kimberlia Greenwoodia receives the truly magnificent assignment.
She is nominated not merely for Barbados, but also Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Antigua and Barbuda, Dominica, Grenada, and Saint Vincent and the Grenadines.
Seven nations.
One ambassador.
And — magnificently — no additional compensation for the extra assignments.
This is the Imperial Caribbean Economy Package: seven countries for the price of one.
Somewhere, an accountant in the Palatium Album is weeping tears of pure fiscal patriotism.
Elsewhere, Austinius Holmesius is dispatched toward Haiti, Wesleius Huntius Texanus toward Saudi Arabia, Devinus Kenningtonius toward Somalia, Junaidus Munirius toward Djibouti, and Paulus Watzlavickius toward Suriname.
Then comes Jania Lynchia, nominated as Ambassador-at-Large for International Religious Freedom — a title so impressive that her office door may need structural reinforcement simply to hold the nameplate.
Treasury, Food, Housing — and Space Money!
But Trumpius Caesar does not merely command courts, oceans, and diplomacy.
He also commands bureaucracy.
And bureaucracy requires people.
Lots of people.
At the Treasury, Franciscus Brownius is nominated as Under Secretary, Robertus Stebbinsius as General Counsel, and Jeremias Wigginsius as Assistant Secretary.
Three senior officials in one department.
Trumpius calls this streamlined government.
Ordinary mortals might call it a committee.
At Housing and Urban Development, Matthaeus Jonesius is summoned as Assistant Secretary.
Meanwhile, Heidia Overtonia is nominated to become the mighty Commissaria Ciborum et Medicamentorum — Commissioner of Food and Drugs.
She may therefore become one of the people responsible for deciding what Americans may safely eat, swallow, inject, or immediately return to the supermarket.
But the imperial personnel campaign does not stop at the atmosphere.
Trumpius has reached space.
Joshuus Shoemakerius is nominated as Chief Financial Officer of NASA.
At last, somebody can explain why rockets cost billions of dollars when their primary job appears to be going upward very quickly.
Behold the Emerging Threats!
One appointment sounds particularly suited to the Age of Trumpius.
Annia Vuius is nominated as Assistant Secretary of State for Emerging Threats.
Emerging Threats!
Magnificent.
These presumably include cyberattacks, artificial intelligence, hostile governments, mysterious technologies, geopolitical instability, and possibly anyone who informs Trumpius Caesar that his golf ball did not actually land on the fairway.
Then comes Asa Pittius, nominated as America's representative to the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons, carrying the rank of Ambassador.
Because even chemistry receives diplomatic representation in the Empire.
Christopherus Inabinettius is nominated as an Imperial Marshal in Alabama, Samuelus Leeus as United States Attorney in Tennessee, and Simonus Serranius as United States Attorney in Washington.
Elsewhere, Stephanus Huskius is summoned to the Parole Commission, while Elliottus Hulsius is nominated to command the Millennium Challenge Corporation.
There are departments.
There are commissions.
There are corporations.
There are councils.
And Trumpius Caesar has apparently found somebody for all of them.
And Now the Senatus May Perform Its Ceremonial Magic
The enormous Imperial Personnel Scroll now travels to the Senatus Americanus.
There, senators may perform the ancient republican rituals of questioning, investigating, debating, delaying, objecting, scheduling hearings, rescheduling hearings, issuing statements about hearings, and appearing on television to explain why the other side is destroying civilization.
Eventually, some nominees may even be confirmed.
This is the beauty of the Democratia Trumpiana.
The Emperor nominates.
The Senatus deliberates.
The committees investigate.
The media speculate.
And Trumpius Caesar wakes up the following morning and asks:
“WHY AREN’T MY PEOPLE CONFIRMED YET?”
Thus concludes the mighty Magna Nominatio.
Judges from Alaska to Texas.
Admirals for the fleet.
Ambassadors across the globe.
Treasury guardians for the gold.
Food guardians for the hamburgers.
And even a financial guardian for the rockets.
The Empire grows.
The titles become longer.
The organizational charts become wider.
And somewhere deep inside the Palatium Album, another enormous personnel scroll is probably already being prepared.
A beautiful scroll.
A tremendous scroll.
Possibly laminated.
Trumpius loves laminated.
