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LARPers Stand By to Rescue Obama Nation

With November’s election, the 2-year-old practice of reaching into the not-so-deep grassroots pockets of America and handing out steady lumps of cash to special interests and Hollywood style political endeavors seems to have whipsawed on he who holds the nation’s checkbook. However, if one has learned anything from watching politics carve its mark in the cranium of America, one is prompted to recall, even in the face of a perceived shift of power—Democrat to Republican–the words of Pete Townsend, “Meet the new boss, the same as the old boss.” I propose that there is a third boss worth considering.

Don’t despair over the state of our overspent and politically worn out nation. Something happened to me recently that restored a glimmer of hope. I am a filmmaker. As such, I often require odd props, costumes, and services in order to pull off the illusions required to make my on-the-screen antics convincing. For a recent project, I required suits of armor. Being on a shoestring budget, I decided to look into building this armor myself. After a few hours spent surfing the Net for plans and coming up with zilch, I decided to contact an organization steeped in the ancient art of armor and weapons smithing: the S.C.A. (the Society for Creative Anachronism).

You’ve seen them in the public parks of America: SCA zealots weighted down with homemade but admirably crafted armor, armed with foam swords, halberds, and war axes. Where others meet for family picnics, pickup volleyball games, and Frisbee tossing, the SCA boys (and girls) form phalanxes and run combat scenarios in amazing medieval splendor.

Having need of armor for my production, I looked up SCA’s local chapter where I am located in Northern Utah. I met a charming girl with perfect English—especially keen on using whom rather than who as an interrogative pronoun. I immediately liked her. When I posed my request–plans to make armor for a movie–she informed me that my best option would be to contact my king. She asked what area I lived in. When I told her Northern Utah, she informed me that my King was named Greenbriar and gave me his email address.

I hung up the phone, feeling a bit perplexed. At first I have to admit, I was a little disturbed; I didn’t know I had a king. But, as time has passed and as I have watched the United States fall into debt and decay from which there can be no easy recovery, I have found myself sleeping easier and easier as I recall my telephone conversation with the extremely literate woman at the SCA office.

Let me put to rest any hopelessness Americans feel about the cantilevering-over-a-deep-spiked-precipice state of our nation. Should the worse happen, should the United States fall into ruin, should our government collapse, should even the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse scorch across the country side from sea to shining sea, a second string team stands ready, just below the surface, to rise up and take the United State’s reigns. The SCA and other LARPing organizations have divided the nation up into parcels, organized and administrated by kings, princes, and so-forth. Sure, the United States might fall into feudalism; but which is worse, impending financial doom by the hand of China, a hostile explosion of Shuria Law, or hoeing a few beets and onions for a Knight who, in turn, promises protection? I say go buy a hoe.

From my telephone conversation with  SCA, I have concluded that three courses of action should be incumbent upon every American: vote, store extra food, and pick up a few foam weapons to protect yourself and your family.

By the way, I highly recommend the movie Darkon as research material for a not-too-distant American future.