copyright © 2020
by Robert L. Blau
He came out of the Southwest.
Because ... where else would he have come from?
It was in the days of the Pandemic. The Maskers and the
Distancers and the Quarantiners held unholy sway over the country and
its people. No one dared step out of their homes, say howdy, or
show their faces in public. Or even in private. Deep State
ruled. And it was getting deeper.
That's when the Arranger rode out of the Southwest. He was
maskless, up close and personal, in your face. He organized
massive rallies, huge beach parties, and epic pub crawls. And he
had no side-kicks of ... the wrong kind, capiche? I mean, like
Injuns. Or ... you know. Folks called
him "the Gregarious Arranger" because he drew together all the
patriotic forces into mass actions. And because he was so darn
sociable. The Deep State trembled before him.
I first met the Arranger when he blew into our little town. We
were suffering under the tyranny of a Deep State doctor who terrorized
the people with fake-news tales of the evil Pandemic and kept everyone
at least six feet apart, masked, barefoot, and in the kitchen.
The Arranger changed all that. He rounded everyone up into our
local auditorium, which we call "the Drum," for a good old-fashioned
barbecue and beer bash. Everyone went maskless, shoulder to
shoulder, shook hands, and touched each other's faces, among other
things.
The Deep State doctor fled town in panic. Beer and patriotism
reigned! The Arranger moved on to his next appointment with
destiny. All the people marveled, pensively stroked their chins,
and wondered aloud, "Who was
that unmasked man?"