Loathe to add any restrictions to the personal liberties of citizens, temporary residents, and invited visitors beyond those which currently fit -- handwritten with a partially eaten crayon -- on a post it note, the Colonel would be remiss in his slightly less than onerous duties if he were to not make adjustments appropriate to the health threat posed by the Wuhan Virus.
Last evening, at an emergency session of the Congress of the Tallahatchie Republic, the Colonel addressed the assembled citizenry and announced temporary preventive measures to be instituted immediately:
"My fellow citizens, the Wuhan Virus threat to the health and well-being of all who call the physical headquarters of the virtual Tallahatchie Republic home cannot be ignored. There is no need for panic -- the Colonel is in charge here and remains vigilant to any and all threats to your security. We will, however, need to make a few changes to our standing operating procedures."
"First of all, we must begin to practice 'social distancing..."
The Colonel's best friend and second most important TR citizen -- the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda -- slammed her needle-point down on the couch beside her (the action that often signals her desire to participate in the debates of state), "Social distancing?!? Knucklehead, what are you rambling on about now? And why are you swinging that stick around."
"The Colonel never rambles!," the Colonel retorted. "He may pontificate. He may lecture. He may even occasionally offer extended correctional criticism. But, the Colonel never..."
"Just stawwwp!," the Colonel's bride obviously needed no further explanation.
"Stop what, dear?"
"Stop referring to yourself in the third person and stop swinging that stick around. If you put a scratch on my piano, you're gonna be in deep stink!"
"It's not a 'stick'."
"What?"
"It's not a 'stick'. It's the Colonel's treasured walking cane procured at great personal risk from the deep interior of the snake-infested cane brake back at the far reaches of the Colonel's vast land holdings here at the shallow northern end of deep southern nowhere."
"It's a stick. And if you don't stop swinging it around, I'm gonna snatch it from you and break it over my knee."
The Colonel recoiled in horror, clutching his treasured walking cane to his formerly robust chest. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh, I dare, Knucklehead, I dare. Put the stick down, now!"
The Colonel stood clutching his treasured walking cane to his formerly robust chest and considered his options.
"What is wrong with you, now, Knucklehead? If you keep biting your tongue and crossing your eyes like that I'm gonna have you admitted."
"I'm considering my options."
"Well, stop it. You look ridiculous. Even more ridiculous than usual."
The Colonel slowly relaxed his tensed posture, uncrossed his eyes, and assumed the position of parade rest. "Maey tha Koernal pleath esplane..."
The Colonel remembered he was still biting his tongue.
"The Colonel is using his treasured walking cane to describe the arc of distance at which citizens, temporary residents, and invited visitors must remain from each other in order to significantly reduce the communication of the Wuhan Virus. Each citizen, temporary resident, and invited visitor will be issued a replica of the Colonel's treasured walking cane with which they will maintain social distancing."
Because the Colonel had ceased describing the arc of social distance with his treasured walking cane, and therefore ceased to present a clear danger to her treasured piano, the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda returned her attention to her needle point.
The Colonel resumed his address.
"In addition to social distancing, citizens, temporary residents, and invited visitors will vigorously wash their hands and feet at least hourly."
"Feet?" The comely and kind-hearted looked up from her needle-point and fixed her loving gaze quizzically upon the Colonel.
(Well, most people wouldn't recognize it as a "loving gaze," but the Colonel sees it a lot, and knows that the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda loves him a lot, so...)
"Yes, you heard that right. Feet will be washed hourly, at the top of each hour. And, since the Colonel's infantry-ravaged back no longer allows him to reach his own feet...," the Colonel paused and looked expectantly at his loving bride.
"Dream on, Knucklehead," the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda didn't even look up from her needle point. "I wouldn't touch your nasty feet with your stupid stick."
The Colonel detected that the natives were getting a bit restless and began to wrap up his address on Wuhan Virus emergency measures.
"It's not a 'stick.' It's the Colonel's treasured... Never mind. The last change to our standing operating procedures regards restrictions to travel to and from the physical headquarters of our virtual republic. Effective immediately, and until further notice, all travelers from the Colonel's vast land holdings here at the shallow northern end of deep southern nowhere will prepare by washing hands and feet..."
The Colonel paused to judge the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda's reaction.
"Dream on, Knucklehead," the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda said without looking up from her needle point.
The Colonel pressed on, "Travelers will also carry a replica of the Colonel's stick... err..., he means treasured walking cane, with which they will maintain an effective social distance from others."
The Colonel closed his address by assuming the Tallatchie Republic salute stance -- a modified position of attention with tongue planted firmly in cheek and right hand clutching wallet in right rear pocket.
The comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda registered her overwhelming approval of the Colonel and his outstanding leadership with her customary head shake and well-worn term of endearment,
"Knucklehead."
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