Once upon a time, there was a king named RTD of Fleece-em.  Even by kingly standards, RTD was a greedy king. All he cared about was taxes, taxes, taxes, and let’s see, oh yes, taxes. So, he sent his tax collectors into the Longmontshire hamlet, having convinced the peasants many years ago he would build a shiny new road with pumpkin coaches, (wait, that’s another tale) golden coaches leading to his Fleece-em castle. As the people grew poorer and poorer from being taxed, King RTD grew richer and richer. The peasants were reduced to living on broken promises and sugar beets. For breakfast, they had bowls of sugar beet flakes. For lunch, sugar beet sandwiches. And for dinner, roast filet of sugar beet with sugar beet gravy. As a result, King RTD began to get the funny feeling that people didn’t like him very much, especially when peasants wrote hateful things in Ye Olde Times-Call like, “King RTD should be boiled in sugar beet soup.”  Not that he cared about them. But what he did care about was raising taxes. So, the king called a meeting of his former board members, some from the prestigious advising firm of Hyde, Distrakt, Hoodwink, and Rob. “I need to do something to make people like me so I can tax them even more,” said the king. “Well, your eminence,” piped up Rob, “I’m just talking off the top of my monks cut here. But what about lowering taxes and refunding some money back to the peasants? We could—-” That seemed to be an unpopular idea. Two palace guards grabbed Rob and carried him off to the dungeon. The next day, the king called another meeting of his former board members and new advising firm, Hyde, Distrakt and Hoodwink. Hyde spoke up, “what if we said the former road plan wouldn’t work through no fault of yours sire? How could we predict the cost of protecting against winged monkeys on the route went through the roof and the black plague halted any work being done because our workers had the gall to die and not show up for their shift. Also, the Princes in and round Fleece-em needed their roads completed first. Remember, they keep you in power. Now you can say we can join with the Barons of Amtrak and others to provide a more direct road to Fleece-em for the beet eaters of Longmontshire. Which would, of course, entail new taxes.” “I like this idea. But what do we do with the rabble-rouser Earl of Bagley and the Longmontshire City Council Viscounts who are pointing out that I, the king am a fraud and might not be wearing any clothes?” “We send out an official letter of excuse from the assembled former board members, then do what we’ve always done and delay delivering on your promise by stating new studies need to be conducted so we can provide the best road possible on this complicated project.” “That’s brilliant! Does anyone else feel a draft?” said the king.

Moral of the story: Don’t follow the sheep when the king is pulling the wool over your eyes.

Kris Harris moved here in 1960 and is a product of Longmont Public Schools and the University of Northern Colorado. He believes sarcasm deserves to be taken seriously.