I met him today. His name is Lou, but he could be called "Mister America" as well. I thought he existed only in textbooks or case studies, but there he was. He knew that what was different had come from the devil, or worse, the communists. He was convinced there was a plot and an enemy. They were coming. They were almost here. We had to be ready, and maybe armed. It was time for solidarity, for uniting against the incursion of "them," though they were clever at disguise, fiendish enough to hide their true nature and purpose. All the more reason why we had to be on guard, standing up, and shoulder to shoulder, protecting that American Dream and those Christian virtues, saving a nation and church from an evil so ominous that some might even think it good.
He left to get ready. He went back to Westchester to fight the good fight, even though he was curing the wrong ills and joining the wrong battle. Enthusiasm seemed willing to replace reason, and conviction far outdid values.
How many Lou's are there?
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