THE RETURN OF THE GRAY CHAMPION?

In Nathaniel Hawthorne's words, "Suddenly, there was seen the figure of an ancient man, who seemed to have emerged from among the people, and was walking by himself along the centre of the street, to confront the armed band. He wore the old Puritan dress, a dark cloak and a steeplecrowned hat, in the fashion of at least fifty years before, with a heavy sword upon his thigh, but a staff in his hand to assist the tremulous gait of age."

Megan Fox sights an event in Sacramento.

When police showed up in riot gear holding batons to intimidate the crowd full of moms and kids and peaceful Americans, Dr. Cordie Lee Williams, a United States Marine vet, took his bullhorn and spoke to them in a way only another man who has taken an oath to protect the Constitution can. What happened after that is nothing short of stunning.

“In the face of tyranny, in the face of freedom, are you going to sit there in your riot gear against peaceful protesters or are you going to say, ‘You know what? It’s time to stand up for my country. I took the oath of office and it said I will defend [against] all enemies both foreign and domestic,'” Williams began. “I know you’re doing your job, but I’d rather lose my job than lose my soul,” he said. “What are you going to go tell your little girl or your little boy tonight? That you took a baton and you crushed somebody’s skull that was a mom? Is that what a tough guy does? That’s not what honor, courage, and commitment means in the Marine Corps.”

Here's Hawthorne's prophesy.

I have heard, that whenever the descendants of the Puritans are to show the spirit of their sires, the old man appears again. When eighty years had passed, he walked once more in King Street. Five years later, in the twilight of an April morning, he stood on the green, beside the meeting-house, at Lexington, where now the obelisk of granite, with a slab of slate inlaid, commemorates the first fallen of the Revolutions. And when our fathers were toiling at the breastwork on Bunker's Hill, all through that night the old warrior walked his rounds. Long, long may it be, ere he comes again! His hour is one of darkness, and adversity, and peril. But should domestic tyranny oppress us, or the invader's step pollute our soil, still may the Gray Champion come, for he is the type of New England's hereditary spirit; and his shadowy march, on the eve of danger, must ever be the pledge, that New England's sons will vindicate their ancestry.

Different sort of domestic tyranny, different sort of an invader, different heirs to Governor Andros.