On Feline Elites

       On Feline Elites

          A Modest Proposal

         

Once Mark Twain satirically proposed that there be a country with a royal family composed entirely of cats. I have thought further on this system, with these results:

          The royal palace and staff shall be modest; I propose a small apartment adjoining the legislative chambers, which the royal cats shall have free run of. His Feline Majesty and his queens shall be fertile; no castrating His Highness; hence the palace shall be a cattery, exporting kitten princes and princesses. The line shall be bred for regal tolerance of strangers, for His Highness must greet politicians, paparazzi and crowds.

          The cat-king is of course a figurehead; the Prime Minister holds the real power. However certain powers are reserved for His Feline Majesty alone, subject to his sole command, ‘until cats learn to talk’. These are all powers forbidden to human government, and granted to the cat on condition that cats remain mute.

His Majesty is granted sole ownership of every excessive government power, which the written constitution enumerates; a negative bill of rights. For instance: the cat, and the cat alone, can regulate speech; establish religion; prohibit arms; prohibit alcohol; prohibit drugs; suspend habeas corpus; wage war without Congressional approval; eavesdrop without warrant; and torture.

          It is therefore vital that no human ever occupy the Feline Throne. This is in line with the normal function of cats; here humans put a cat on the throne to keep human vermin off of it. To keep humans off the cat-throne, the constitution shall establish a series of rigorous felinity tests.

          Amongst the felinity tests are: Purring. Personally catching, killing and eating mice and rats. Jumping up three body lengths onto a platform one foot square. An hour in freezing cold air without wearing any clothing. Being held upside down by his feet three body lengths above a hard surface, dropped, and landing on his feet. Passing through a hole one inch wider than his head.

          Anyone claiming royal powers must take a rigorous felinity test.

          Similar measures can be taken for the Presidency. What with its responsibility for nukes and spies and wars and all,  it’s obvious that the Presidency is not a job fit for human beings. It does something terrible to the people in it.

As a remedy for this tragedy, I propose that we, the people, elect a cat to the Presidency. Power cannot make a cat cynical, for cats are already completely cynical. The cat will have to be over forty in cat years, which I estimate as seven and a half. This rules out my own cat Charlie, now still only five, though he’s pretty enough to campaign, and also his sister Katniss, though she’s much smarter than he is.

A Presidential cat will sign no bills, appoint no officers, make no speeches, and declare no wars. He will in theory represent the complete paralysis of the executive branch; but in practice the machinery of government will continue to move.  Just how it will contrive to do so is unpredictable, and would therefore be educational.