Dwarves Rule - From Freak Show To Freak Embrace, The Saga Of A Little Conservative

Frankie Billings was a dwarf who other than his diminutive size and unusual proportions - normal size, even kingly head, but undersized arms and legs and an Andean torso - was just like any other American.  The only surprise was his fierce conservatism, surprising only because underprivileged minorities were almost always in lockstep with the progressive agenda. 

While the Biden Administration had run on a platform of victimhood but had not included a small person in the Cabinet they averred that they had done their best to rid the nation of the freak show image of dwarves that had persisted for generations. 

 

Dwarfism does not necessarily run in families, although there is a genetic association, and because of it, Frankie's grandfather had been one of Barnum & Bailey's feature attractions.  Isaiah Billings was not just short of stature, but a whiz at prestidigitation, and could make rabbits jump out of hats, saw women in half and restore them with a wave of his hand, and create the most unbelievable scenarios of levitation and magical disappearance circus-goers had ever seen. Isaiah Billings was 'The Wonder Dwarf from Chillicothe', the freak that hundreds paid thousands to see. 

 

Now, Isaiah was no shrinking violet and was a regular Lothario in the hay bales. Marguerite La Duchesse, a trapeze diva, had always wondered whether dwarves had bigger dicks, God's compensation for creating them the way he did, and was pleasantly surprised.  Not only that, Isaiah had a way with women, and was passed around from trapeze artist to lion tamer, more popular than an Italian gigolo. 

Isiah had many children from these liaisons, only one of which he acknowledged, the mother of Frankie who was the field manager of the Hartford Barnum & Bailey show and although an MBA from Wharton had both an alcoholic and nymphomaniacal streak in her blood and wanted to see what all the fuss was about  In an orgy in the elephant house, amidst the trumpeting, bellowing animals, drunk as skunks she and Isaiah copulated to their hearts' desire, and when she found out she was pregnant, she was bound and determined to carry it to term. 

Her son, Bridger, was as normal as could be, but the son he and Amelie had, Frankie, was a dwarf just like his grandfather. 

The chances of this happening was one in a million the geneticist told them, but there it was in black and white, no different than any other baby in swaddling clothes abut soon enough  the spitting image of Grandpappy Isaiah and circus-ready.  However Bridger and Amelie were determined to give their son all the advantages of wealth and privilege that any offspring of the famous Bridger Billings and Amelie Cabot was heir to.  Nothing but the best tutors, the best schools, and the best social milieu. 

Now, the image of a rock-ribbed conservative dwarf turned heads.  This was not supposed to happen.  Little people, put-upon, forgotten, even despised were supposed to hanker for progressive solace, to work within socially active circles to rid the country of prejudicial malignity; but here was Frankie Billings, barely able to see over the lectern, lambasting DEI and ill-conceived notions of identity and inclusion, and doing it with such panache and derring-do, that some partisans even thought he would be a good candidate for high office - even in the Oval Office not because of his 'minority status' but because of his moral stature, principles, and love of country. 

There was something about aura that progressives never understood.  They conferred mantel after mantel of identity, reputation, and singularity based on nothing more than appearance, and in one public gesture after another welcomed anyone other than white men. 

Frankie Billings, grandson of a circus freak, son of a prosperous middle American, genius and rising star, was seen as a patriotic American only.  Passionate supporters overlooked the lowered podium, the adjusted microphone, the trundling up to the dais and saw only a charismatic, transformative man. 

'I stand before you', Frankie proudly began at a rally of over ten thousand Republican supporters in Iowa, 'small but unbowed, a patriot, a soldier of your fortune, and a tireless crusader for virtue, honor, and the Republic'. 

Scott Bessent, Donald Trump's Secretary of the Treasure is an openly gay man, but who knew and who cared?  The President made nothing of his sexual orientation and appointed him on his credentials and inherent worth.  Dwarf Frankie Billings was no different. 

 

The President had chosen Frankie not because of his diversity but because of his character, his principles and his fidelity.  Yes, it took some time for him to get used to this comic figure so featured in the days of the President's youth, now a man of eminence and political import; but it was a tribute to Donald Trump's very American version of 'inclusivity' that he accepted Frankie as an equal. 

All the more impressive because Frankie represented a miniscule fraction of the American voting population.  How many dwarves had Frankie met outside conventions in Salt Lake and San Jose? And yet the President knew that Frankie spoke for the real America. 

There were photographs of old Isaiah Billings and LaFollette Adams, star of the Ziegfeld Follies who had dropped into to the fairgrounds between performances at the Bushnell for a tryst with him. Frankie was proud of his great grandfather and while he had no such vaudevillian ambitions, respected his forebear for setting a high bar. 

'My great grandfather was a hero', he said on the political stump, 'a man of courage, integrity and honor, and I hope to follow in his footsteps'.  Far from Barnum & Bailey of course, but in a life of personal honesty, ambition and success, 

'I am an example of why Donald Trump is your President', Frankie said to the crowd assembled to cheer the President on his whistle stop in Dubuque. 'Because I am all in for liberty, freedom, and limitless opportunity'. 

A fellow dwarf, member of the Democratic Party of Iowa, and proud wearer of the progressive banner of inclusivity in the state, took Frankie to task for his stance on individual liberty when dwarves of all people had the most to lose from a 'normalist' president, a man who looked out only for his own kind and not the disaffected of the world, 'like you and me'. 

'Wrong', said Frankie, appearing on the stage of the Kennedy Center with President Trump in a rally for  national pride.  'The President does not see categories, only individuals, and I stand before you in all my proud cripplehood, an American in spirit and solidarity,'

Frankie was almost lost in the President's embrace, a Kodiak bear hug which took his breath away, but when he emerged both he and Trump were salutatory - 'One of us, one of us', the President intoned and the audience responded in kind. Yes, Frankie might be a freak whose proper place was in the roadside freakshow of the hour, but not today. 

 

For many Trump supporters, there were still limits to the willing suspension of disbelief, and they had to take social revisions in time and in their proper course; but all in all the course was set.  

Frankie (now, given his titles, had become Francis) enlivened discussions in the Cabinet Room where he was an Adjunct Member, unofficial but as the President's man, an agent to be listened to.  He was primus inter pares, took only limited leave, and championed every cause of the President

'Did you see that quiff, the dwarf, one observer said, but Frankie was now way beyond such adolescent name calling.  He urged the President to tighten ICE's terms of engagement and allow no further breaches of protocol or civility and was at the avant garde for every one of the Administration's war on woke

So, it all depends.  Either you are locked in the prison of welcome, imprisoned in the cells of progressive presumption; or free to speak your mind.  In any case was far better to be the Fool advising Lear on the heath than Clarabelle the Clown