Tea Party Ghost

And now it's time for a story. It's kind of like "The Night Before Christmas," but for tax day. From the creative mind of P.J. O'Rourke:

He stood on the stage bathing in the adulation of the assembled dignitaries. The Nobel Prize! At last, his body of work had been given the honor it deserved. As the standing ovation went on he thought of his critics. He knew they were watching. Did this great hall look like the rubber room where they said he’d spend the rest of his days bouncing? Ha! His struggle had been so worth the effort…

Glenn Beck was awakened from his dream of adequacy by the sound of a man clearing his throat. He sat up and, as his eyes adjusted, saw a glowing white Colonial ghost standing beside his bed.

“Who are you?”

“My friends call me Ben. We have been watching you for some time, and see how loyal you are to our cause. I have been sent to grant you the privilege of attending the real Boston Tea Party, that you may then be able to advance our cause with more familiarity and fervor. We haven’t much time. Touch my sleeve and join the cause.”

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I hope this story becomes a tradition.