My Uncle Paul

My Uncle Paul used to be somebody. He was a successful businessman and community leader of Houston, Texas. Eventually he retired, and spent his days alone in the kitchen, playing his version of solitaire with a deck of Dallas Cowboy's Cheerleaders playing cards.. He woke up every morning, and put on his business suit as if he was going to go to work again, but Uncle Paul could no longer do his job, for he suffered from senile dementia. It was a good thing Uncle Paul retired when he did. The kitchen was often ripe, as he wore the same old, green suit for days on end. His hands trembling as he shuffled the cards with that toothless smile of his. A smile of pleasure that only fondling America's sweethearts could bring. He was a throwback to a time long forgotten. When white men were men and everybody else didn't really matter. Many in my family saw uncle Paul as somebody special, but I just saw an old man who soiled his pants and had to be looked after by others, for he could not form a rational decision on his own. Who really knows what he had to do to get to where he was?  What types of boys clubs and secret societies he was a member of. I've never in my life met anyone like uncle Paul until this election year, then low and behold:






 

It's him.
I mean to a T.
I'm not sure how sincere my uncle Paul's ties were to that 'old time' in the American south, but I'm damn sure about this man's, and his intentions if elected...
Go on Paul. It's past time for you to hang it up.

Go sit in your kitchen, shuffle your cards and smile.

UPDATE: Ron Paul is the guy they unmask at the end of every "Scooby-Doo" episode.
"and I would have got away with it if it weren't for those meddling kids."