The Mask of the Beast - A True Story

I've spent quite some time on the subject of mask wearing, and how to protest it. I've suggested polite ways to protest, and more aggressive ways. But most importantly, I've recommended that everyone find a style that fits their particular situation and personality. Individual creativity has the benefit of surprise. Unexpected behaviour makes a far greater impression on people than the predictable.

I live in Portugal where people have a tendency to take it upon themselves to police their neighbours. There's a bit of shouting back and forth every now and again. It's the Mediterranean way. Furthermore, there's a lack of real policing when it comes to non-criminal behaviour. The police doesn't slam peaceful citizens with a fine out of the blue for violation of rules. That might happen in Spain, but it doesn't happen in Portugal. The enforcement of mask wearing rules is largely dependent on a combination of aggressive propaganda and hobby fascists.

While it's theoretically possible that the police fines a non-compliant citizen for not wearing a mask, the far more likely scenario is a random person shouting at us, usually from out of the window of a car. I've therefore decided to keep my mask tucked under my chin when out walking. If the police sees me, they might point a finger at me, and I'll comply. But they're highly unlikely to fine me. I don't really risk anything when protesting this way, which explains why this is fairly common. While some 5% of people refuse to wear their mask at all when outside, some 15% of people wear their mask under their chin like I do. However, I do it slightly different from others. My mask is inscribed with the number 666.

Here again, cultural and personal considerations come into effect, which means that others may want to do something different. The word SHEEP may be used instead of 666 for a similar and somewhat less aggressive effect in the Anglo-Saxon world. However, that wouldn't work very well in Portugal where verbal aggressiveness is more accepted.

The expected exchange between a non-compliant mask wearer and a hobby fascist here in Portugal is one in which the fascist stops his car and shouts at the non-compliant passer by. "Wear your mask!" The non-compliant replies "F*ck off!" And that's pretty much it. However, in the three cases where I've been shouted at in this way over the past four months, I've done something different and therefore unexpected. I've stopped dead in my tracks, turned slowly towards the fascist without saying a word, and slowly lifted my masks over my mouth and nose, revealing the number 666. Then, I've made the thumbs up sign.

The reaction has been the same every time. The baffled fascist has also made the thumbs up sign, which is funny because the number 666 is such a strong symbol of doom in the Catholic world that it's borderline taboo. Catholics have no lack of swear words. But they never mention the devil or any of his associated symbols. That would be beyond swearing. It would be to invite misery into their lives.

My mask doesn't fit into the general culture of the Portuguese. It's creepy in a cold and damp kind of way. It reeks of death and doom, and it completely baffles people to see it. Especially when it appears as a result of their own calling. There's all sorts of vaguely defined connections, none of them good. But I'm not swearing at them. I'm not calling them names. I'm simply following their instructions. And lo and behold, the symbol of Satan came forth. Yet they do the thumbs up in response to my thumbs up. Their bewilderment is written all over their faces.

My third and most successful stunt happened today. Not only did I get the thumbs up, I got to elevate the stunt to the next level. I was wearing a six-pence cap and sun glasses, so when I pulled up my mask in response to the fascist's demand, he had before him something not quite human. My entire face was nothing but a blank stare with the number 666 written across it. Clearly bewildered by the transformation, the man stared at his creation, and I used the opportunity to draw closer to him. He had after all called on my attention. That's something people normally do when looking for help, and I realized then that I could go further in my act.

The idea was to come all the way up to his window and say something like, "good morning, how may I help you?" But the man started babbling before I got to say anything. He asked for the direction to Porto. I said "it's there", with a finger pointing it out, and off he went at considerable speed. Much to my delight.

The mask of the beast