And Obama the Fair rubbed his face, and mused in front of his courtiers, "will no-one rid me of this turbulent plumber?"
Oh, God. Uncle Ron, how could you? Let your vicious young turks seize upon a home-town boy, rip his life apart before the crowd, and fling the bloody shreds to the hungry cannibal press? You *know* this will destroy him, no matter how good of a man he might have been.
Is there a reason you're not off destroying the life of, oh, say Obama's campaign treasurer, Uncle Ron?