Giving an account of Right-Wing Conservative Robin Hood and his Merry Men, who gave to the rich, and let it trickle down to the poor.

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IN A MERRY COUNTRY in the time of old, when good King Reagan ruled the land, there lived near Nottingham Township a famous man whose name was Robin Hood. He lived within the green glades of Sherwood Forest, Sherwood Forest being the name of a gated community. He was an archer the likes of which had never been seen, because he only did so occasionally in the privacy of his expansive backyard. Right happily he dwelt within the walls of Sherwood Forest, suffering neither care nor want, but passing the time in games of croquet or “pin-the-tail-on-the-serving maid,” living upon venison, washed down with draughts of ale of October brewing, or so he was told by the man who bought his beer for him.

Not only Robin himself but all his band of Merry Men dwelt apart from others, as Sherwood Forest was six miles outside of town and only accessible by a single winding road, which itself was punctuated by several large electrified gates, built to keep out deer and poor people. Yet on occasion, a brave soul risked electrocution to come ask Robin for venison to feed his children, and it was then that noble Robin would refuse him meat. And if he asked for drink to quench his thirst, Robin would refuse him draught. And if he asked for cloth to clothe his family, Robin would refuse him wool. But just as the man would turn to leave, Robin would place his hand upon the man’s shoulder, and assure him that when the new open-air market finally opened in six months and the new Pub a year after that, that Robin would frequent these establishments, and then they would expand and maybe then the man at his door could get a job there, and his family would no longer go hungry. And when Robin was asked to explain how that made any sense at all, he would say he had to go hunting.

Then the man would take this promise home to his children, and it would fill their tiny hearts, though not their equally tiny bellies.

Now I will tell you how it came about that Robin Hood fell afoul of the law.

When Robin was a man of forty-eight, large of stomach and of mouth, he grew restless. And the restlessness grew and grew until one day bold Robin stopped paying his taxes completely, because he was weary of his money going to the government and not into his own bank account, where it would sit forever. Instead, Robin gave this money to the rich, and told them “Invest it in your businesses!” and the rich took the money and put it in their bank accounts, where it sat forever. But everyone felt good about themselves, and Robin assumed the poor did too, because they did not say anything.

Then the Sheriff of Nottingham Township was filled with rage, for he needed the money to keep the streets clean and the libraries stocked and the public schools open, but Robin did not want to pay for these services, because the children he had with Maid Marian did not even attend public schools, and why should his ample gold go toward them at all?

So Robin proposed a round of golf on Sherwood Forest’s unparalleled course, and he invited the Sheriff, and he offered to the Sheriff hors d’oeuvres and cheese and enough wine to put a small horse to sleep, and then he and the Sheriff were great friends, and soon the taxes were “no longer a problem.”

And everyone that mattered lived happily ever after.