This is an opinion column.

Anyone who couldn’t see it was deemed unfit for their job. Or simple-minded.

That’s what two charlatans told the vain emperor in “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” the familiar 19th Century children’s tale by Hans Christian Andersen.

They’d weave him a garment woven from material so fine it was invisible to those who were unfit for their job, they said. Or simple-minded.

The vain emperor cared more for his clothes than he did for his country, many subjects believed.

I must have it, he declared.

The two charlatans set up in a room and hour upon hour, day upon day, pretended to spin this fine and fanciful yarn on two looms. An emissary — ”a faithful old wise man” — of the vain emperor was sent to check on their progress. He, of course, saw nothing on the looms as the two charlatans moved intently around them— yet feared saying so, lest he be deemed unfit for their jobs. Or simple-minded.

“I will tell the emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think them,” he told the two charlatans.

You know how this tale ends: The two charlatans “finish” the garment, then fit it upon the vain (undressed) emperor. He dares not say, of course, he sees nothing, lest he be deemed unfit for the job. Or simple-minded.

“I am quite ready” he declares.

The vain (still undressed) emperor embarks upon a procession through the city. The streets were lined with subjects, all of whom saw, of course, nothing (except a vain, undressed emperor). They dared do nothing but play along, lest they be deemed unfit for their jobs. Or simple-minded.

Even the lords of the vain emperor’s bedchamber, tasked with carrying the vast train of this fanciful garment pretended to hold it behind the vain emperor as he strolled through the city, lest they be deemed unfit for the job. Or simple-minded.

It took a child in the crowd, of course, to end the ruse.

“But the Emperor,” the child screamed, “has nothing at all on!”

We might say today that the child’s declaration went viral, buzzing among the people, who finally agreed. Nothing at all on.

Then, as Andersen wrote:

The Emperor was upset, for he knew that the people were right. However, he thought the procession must go on now! The lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold, and the Emperor walked on in his underwear.

Tommy Tuberville gives us nothing to hold onto. Nothing fanciful or fruitful. Nothing engaging or impactful. Nothing.

Yet Alabama’s senior U.S. Senator walks on. Talks on. He spins and spins and spins invisible yarn and prays we see something that simply is not there — lest he be deemed unfit for the job.

Or simple-minded.

Last month, he tweeted in town square fashion, support for a new federal infrastructure law that will pour $1.4 billion into the state to expand broadband access.

We must have it.

Except the Republican didn’t vote for the bill that became law.

No clothes — lest he be deemed unfit for the job. Or …

None of Tuberville’s fellow Republicans, those representing the state in the U.S. House of Representatives, voted for the bill, either. They just had enough sense to say nothing.

Call for the adage espoused by Alabama Republicans under Biden: Take the money and mum.

Also in June, Tuberville blew off a critical vote calling to end debate on Biden’s nomination of Jared Bernstein as chair of the Council of Economic Advisors (CEA). He missed it to hobnob at Donald Trump’s New Jersey summer escape. His vote wouldn’t have likely stemmed the outcome. (It would’ve been 50-50, which would’ve given VP Kamala Harris the decider.)

Still, fellow Republicans were “furious” at Tuberville.

No clothes — lest he be deemed unfit for the job. Or …

In case you’ve forgotten, he’s attacked teachers in Black schools (oh, he codified it, saying “inner city schools”), saying “how bad” they were, adding “I don’t know how they got degrees”.

He weighed, or waded, into a national bipartisan discussion about the danger of white nationalists serving in the military. In May, amid a national bipartisan discussion about the danger of white nationalists serving in the military, Tuberville said “They call them [white nationalists]. I call them Americans.”

He’s blocking military promotions like a petulant child because he does not want women in the military —women sacrificing to serve our nation — to have equitable access to medical options.

He stood before a frothy Republican crowd at a Republican fund-raiser in Nevada last fall and disparaged reparations. Democrats “want reparation (sic) because they think the people who do the crime are owed that,” he said—meaning exactly what?

Tuberville’s own brother even chose to publicly “distance himself” from the emperor, sorry, the senator with no clothes, which too many continue to ignore, lest he be deemed unfit for the job.

Or …

The children’s author wrote:

[The emperor] walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn’t there at all.

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