Washingtonia Strikes Back — Caesar Appeals!
Alarm bells thunder across Washingtonia.
Praetorian guards rush through marble corridors. Lawyers sharpen their ceremonial fountain pens. Construction crews stare nervously at enormous pieces of missile-resistant steel.
Something terrible has happened.
Something almost unthinkable.
Someone has told Imperator Donaldus Trumpius Maximus Caesar, First of His Name, Builder of Tremendous Things, Protector of Beautiful Architecture and Supreme Inspector of Anything Gold-Plated:
Maybe stop building for a moment.
Disaster!
Not since Brutus approached Caesar while suspiciously concealing a knife beneath his toga has the imperial establishment witnessed such treachery.
According to Trumpius Caesar, two appellate judges have ruled against the desperately needed military and security project being constructed at the White House.
To ordinary mortals, this might sound like another complicated dispute involving standing, injunctions, judicial authority and construction law.
But ordinary mortals do not rule empires.
To Trumpius, this is Bellum Ballroomeum.
The Great Ballroom War has begun.
Judge Raonia Raises the Legal Gladius
Fortunately for the Emperor, one mighty judicial voice emerged from the chaos.
Trumpius enthusiastically highlighted the dissent of Judicia Neomia Raonia, known outside the imperial chronicles as Judge Neomi Rao.
Raonia strongly criticized the injunction, arguing among other things that the plaintiff lacked standing and that the government's security interests overwhelmingly outweighed the aesthetic concerns being asserted against the construction.
Trumpius heard this and immediately recognized the ancient legal principle upon which every successful empire has been built:
If you have no standing, get off Caesar's construction site.
Simple.
Elegant.
Roman.
Raonia also criticized what she regarded as excessive judicial interference with construction at the White House.
To Trumpius, this was practically Cicero returning from the grave carrying blueprints and shouting:
“LET THE EMPEROR BUILD!”
The majority, unfortunately for Caesar, did not agree.
And therefore the imperial legal legions are marching onward.
To the Supremus Courtus!
The decision has temporarily been stayed, meaning it will not immediately take effect.
Trumpius wasted approximately zero imperial seconds before announcing his next destination:
The Supremus Courtus Americanus.
There, the Emperor intends to demand that the ruling be overturned entirely.
Because according to Trumpius, this isn't merely a construction project.
Oh no.
Calling it a construction project would be like calling the Roman Colosseum “a moderately spacious outdoor entertainment venue.”
Trumpius describes an enormous integrated security complex featuring bomb shelters, state-of-the-art hospital and medical facilities, protective partitions, top-secret military installations, specialized equipment and missile-resistant structural components.
There will be reinforced columns.
Reinforced beams.
Reinforced roofs.
Drone-resistant ceilings.
Military-grade ventilation.
Bullet-resistant glass.
Ballistic-resistant glass.
Blast-resistant glass.
Presumably the drinking straws will also be artillery-resistant.
The only missing feature appears to be a moat filled with patriotic alligators wearing tiny Secret Service sunglasses.
That may arrive in Phase Two.
And Then There Is the Ballroom
At the glorious center of this imperial saga stands something magnificent.
Something beautiful.
Something tremendous.
A ballroom.
But not merely a ballroom.
This is the Ballroomus Maximus.
According to Trumpius, the ballroom is urgently needed, highly secure and part of the broader project intended to protect the White House complex.
Critics might reasonably ask:
“Why does an advanced military security project need a ballroom?”
Foolish question.
Rome had banquets.
Versailles had ballrooms.
Trumpius has missile-resistant steel.
Civilization progresses.
Besides, what happens if a foreign dignitary arrives during a drone attack and urgently needs to perform a waltz?
Has anyone considered that?
Apparently only Caesar.
A Gift From Trumpius to America
Trumpius further emphasizes that the ballroom is being constructed ahead of schedule and under budget.
Naturally.
Imperial construction projects are always ahead of schedule and under budget when the Emperor personally announces the schedule and budget.
Even more magnificently, Trumpius describes the ballroom as a gift from himself and other Great American Patriots.
A gift!
To America!
From Caesar!
Imagine Augustus announcing:
“Citizens of Rome, I have given you this magnificent palace. Also, I shall be conducting government business inside it.”
The imperial financial doctrine is equally simple:
The American taxpayer, Trumpius insists, will bear no expense.
Thus was born the economic philosophy of Fiscalis Magnificus:
Build enormously.
Build beautifully.
Build securely.
And find somebody else to pick up the tab.
Ancient Rome could have learned something.
But the Steel Is Already Coming!
One question particularly enrages Trumpius:
Why wasn't this lawsuit brought much earlier?
According to the Emperor's account, much of the complex has already been built, fabricated or paid for.
Materials are already on site.
More are being delivered.
Somewhere on an interstate highway, one imagines a truck driver hauling several tons of missile-resistant ballroom infrastructure toward Washington while listening to the radio:
“Federal court ruling threatens construction project.”
The driver looks into his mirror.
Behind him sits enough reinforced steel to survive the Siege of Constantinople.
“Well,” he says, “I'm already halfway there.”
This is the logistical nightmare confronting Imperium Trumpianum.
You cannot simply return a drone-proof ceiling to the hardware store.
“Reason for return?”
“Judicial review.”
Caesar Declares a National Security Emergency of Architecture
Trumpius frames the controversy primarily as a national security issue.
According to his statement, the military and Secret Service regard the ruling as threatening a project intended to protect the White House, its personnel, future presidents and their families.
Trumpius also invokes visiting heads of state, dignitaries and ordinary Americans touring the historic Executive Mansion.
Thus, in the imperial interpretation, the stakes could hardly be higher.
Presidents are at risk.
Families are at risk.
Dignitaries are at risk.
Visitors are at risk.
National security is at risk.
The ballroom may be at risk.
At this point, one suspects even the catering staff has been issued ballistic tiramisu.
One Building, One System, One Tremendous Thing
Another important element of Trumpius Caesar's argument is that the entire complex forms one integrated project.
You cannot simply separate the pieces.
The bunker connects to the medical facilities.
The medical facilities connect to the security infrastructure.
The security infrastructure connects to the military systems.
The military systems connect to the reinforced structure.
And somewhere inside this architectural hydra sits the ballroom, presumably glowing majestically beneath a chandelier capable of surviving a medium-sized asteroid.
Trumpius himself described the project as enormous, expensive and highly complex.
Which may be the most Trumpian description imaginable.
Big?
Absolutely.
Expensive?
Obviously.
Complicated?
There are already appellate judges involved.
Subtle?
Never.
The Battle Moves to the Highest Court
And so Bellum Ballroomeum enters its next glorious chapter.
Trumpius Caesar demands total victory before the Supreme Court.
The judges will examine standing.
The lawyers will debate jurisdiction.
Security officials will discuss risks.
Construction crews will stare at enormous piles of specialized steel.
And Trumpius will continue insisting that America desperately requires a building combining the functions of a presidential residence, military fortress, emergency hospital, command center and luxurious reception venue.
Because why build a bunker if you cannot host a state dinner inside it?
Why build a ballroom if its ceiling cannot resist drones?
Why install ordinary windows when you can have glass apparently prepared for the opening scene of an action movie?
This is not merely architecture.
This is Trumpitecture.
A philosophy in which every structural problem can be solved through additional steel, additional security and approximately 40 percent more magnificence.
Thus Trumpius Caesar stands before Washingtonia, surrounded by Praetorians, lawyers, engineers and extremely nervous building inspectors.
He raises one golden hand toward the Supremus Courtus.
Behind him rise the beginnings of the mighty imperial complex.
And Caesar delivers his final architectural doctrine:
“Veni. Vidi. I already paid for the steel. Now let me build!”
