Once upon a time, there lived a young bald* boy who always tried his hardest. He was born an orphan as part of a long line of orphans,* and through due process of Fig Newtons and Pennsylvania law he was raised to support his country.* Along this fun-loving journey, the only word Ron spoke was "taxes."** Seeing as he was American, this word he shouted loud and long to spread his message throughout the land, over hills and dales, along Burger King and valleys. And this young warbler never strayed off his path.* As he waved around his little American flag, he demanded to know why, wherefore, whence, and whither the rights of all wonderful and joyous citizens had been sacrificed for the jaunty wants of the cultural elite. "TAXES," he would pound his fist on whatever happened to be there. "Taxes, TAXES, taxxxxxes! TAAAAAXEZ! Taxes, taxes, taxES, taxes," and they would all rally to his call, the cry of the last libertarian. And onward this peaceful* renegade stormed throughout the years, over hills and dales, along Burger King and valleys. Did he quail at the jeers of Mittens Romney? Did he surrender to the suave squinting of Barack Obama? What did Ron Paul do when all he had to turn to was the age-old cry of "TAXES"? Nobody knows because we stopped caring three months ago.
This has been a paid metaphor for Ron Paul’s campaign.*
*This may not be true.***
**This has not been proven.
***This message was brought to you by Batman.*