An old man in overalls with a bushy white beard held up a sign reading DEPLORABLE LIVES MATTER. A woman seated next to them wearing an American flag vest over her frilly blue shirt had a sign that said GOD BLESS MISSISSIPPI. Down on the arena floor, a college-aged boy had dressed up like an elderly Confederate colonel, with white hair and a fake beard and a giant red-sequin hat. He pretended to walk with the assistance of a cane but would occasionally dance a little jig in case someone got confused about his real age.

“The interview we got with Betty Jo Mize about the New South being dead?” Tashi asked. “That comes right before this rally. This is exactly what she warned us about.”

“I feel like I’ve taken some peyote,” Jessica said. “Or need some.”

A contemporary Christian band on stage sang a song about opening the eyes of your heart to Christ. Most people didn’t seem to be listening, talking and laughing, deaf to the words, or taking selfies with their phones. The band finally finished up two songs later and another local politician gave an introduction to “Mississippi’s next governor.” Vardaman took the stage, with his hands raised, to lots of applause, yelling, and whistling. Someone in the rafters had an air horn. A song called “Take Back Our Country” played on the PA system. Don’t tread on me. Don’t you tread on me . . .

“What’s this shit?” Jessica said.

“Sounds like the theme to Monday Night Football,” Tashi said. “With even dumber lyrics.”

Vardaman thanked the crowd too many times, arms and palms outstretched wide, in front of the dueling national and state flags. Tashi noted he looked like a study in humility, closing his eyes, nodding his head. So very thankful for each and every person there. He was silver-haired and spray-tanned, in a navy blue suit and a long blood red tie. People screamed and yelled his name. Too many American and Confederate flags flapping to count.

“This election, I need y’all’s prayers, support, and friendship more than you know,” Vardaman said. “This is our time. We don’t recognize our state anymore. The traditions we find important don’t matter to my opponent. What are we without our history and tradition? This is a fight to restore our culture. Modern times, radical ideas, and political correctness have created uncertainty and instability in our society. We unite in our shared history and our faith and for our children. Things must return to the way they were. This is a battle for opposing visions of our state. We’re all here to take it back. Faith, family, and values. Those aren’t just words, friends . . . Our way of life must be restored. We will not compromise.”