The Senator from the Palmetto Canopy
The rollout had begun, as important Washington rollouts often do, with a leak everyone was instructed not to confirm.
Shortly after sunrise, selected reporters received a message from a senior administration official describing the President’s preferred successor to Senator Graham as “an estimable and energetic public figure with deep personal loyalty, tremendous instincts, and an unmatched ability to connect with ordinary Americans.”
The message did not mention that the nominee weighed eleven pounds.
The One-Page Biography
By nine o’clock, the White House had distributed a one-page biography of Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith. It listed his principal qualifications as problem-solving, manual dexterity, emotional intelligence, and an established record of disrupting conventional institutions. A second version, issued twenty minutes later, removed a reference to his having escaped twice from federal custody. A third clarified that the custody in question had been “primarily zoological.”
The constitutional question was handled with equal confidence. Asked whether a capuchin monkey satisfied the age, citizenship, and inhabitancy requirements for the United States Senate, a White House lawyer replied that the administration did not comment on hypothetical litigation involving members of another branch. [See also SIDEBAR].
SIDEBAR
Several conservative and originalist scholars have concluded that Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith is constitutionally eligible for the Senate, reasoning that the Framers’ age and citizenship requirements must be understood in light of conditions they could not have anticipated. In 1787, they argue, no capuchin had demonstrated advanced tool use, political discipline, or the ability to outperform human legislators in committee; had the Founders possessed modern knowledge of primate cognition and contemporary congressional dysfunction, they would not have treated species as dispositive. Because Article I never expressly limits senators to human beings, these scholars maintain that “citizen” should be read functionally, thirty years should be measured in capuchin-adjusted terms, and South Carolina residency may be established by continuous occupancy of the governor’s shoulder.
By noon, official Washington had divided into its customary camps. Supporters praised the appointment as bold, unconventional, and long overdue. Opponents called it reckless and degrading. Three senators privately admitted that Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith would probably improve committee attendance.
The formal announcement was scheduled for two o’clock in the White House press room.
The South Carolinians Enter
Governor Henry McMaster entered first, looking solemn and gubernatorial. Seated upon his right shoulder was Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith, wearing a miniature navy blazer, a red necktie, and an expression of alert suspicion toward representative government.
The governor took his place beside the lectern.
Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith surveyed the room. He examined the television lights, the photographers, and the assembled correspondents. He then reached into the governor’s breast pocket and removed a ceremonial pen intended for signing the appointment papers.
- The governor quietly retrieved it.
- Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith removed it again.
- The press corps began taking notes.
Behind the blue curtain, staff members could be heard discussing whether the senator-designate should remain on the governor’s shoulder during questions. The communications director favored leaving him there, on the theory that it projected continuity. The Secret Service favored placing him on the floor, on the theory that he had already attempted to open the nuclear football.
A final fact sheet appeared in reporters’ inboxes:
MR. THROTTLEBOTTOM-SMITH: A FRESH VOICE FOR SOUTH CAROLINA
It described him as pro-growth, pro-defense, pro-family, and “firmly opposed to unnecessary regulation of the tropical-fruit sector.” His legislative priorities would include national security, judicial appointments, agricultural modernization, and the immediate removal of all childproof latches from Senate refreshment cabinets.
The room grew quiet.
White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt walked to the lectern carrying a thick briefing book. She arranged her pages, looked directly into the cameras, and began:
“Good afternoon. Today, President Trump is proud to announce his complete and total support for an extraordinary American—”
At that moment, Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith sprang from Governor McMaster’s shoulder onto the lectern.
He seized the presidential seal with both hands, inspected it closely, and attempted to rotate it upside down.
The press secretary paused.
The governor smiled painfully.
From the back row came the first question:
“Is he available for an interview?”
Mr. Throttlebottom-Smith bared his teeth, snatched the press secretary’s opening statement, and climbed the curtain.
The press secretary watched him ascend.
“He will,” she said, “be taking questions at the appropriate time.”
Tomorrow: The piece is extended through his first Senate committee hearing, where he will almost certainly prove unexpectedly effective.
