A: You bet your life.

Little Ron Paul, a sapling at about 6 years old, hops out of bed at 6:30 in the morning in the hopes of being on time, brushes his teeth, checks his closet for the dreaded “Boogeymann”, opens the curtains to a bright new day, and hollars out what he will be watching on television this morning: “I am going to be watching the Marx brothers!” Slams the window-shade shut, takes off his jammy-top, feeds his pet frog — it wants some more but Ron Paul is too excited, takes off the rest of his sleep-clothing, puts on his vest, penny-loafers, underoons and all, in stumbling around his room he knocks down his globe but his too excited to set it right. Races down the stairs to the television expecting someone down in his neighborhoods to actually hear him proclaiming his love of the Marx Brothers, and waits at the front porch for only half a minute because he is so impatient he HAS GOT TO WATCH them on the television — “oh! oh! oh! oh!” He howls as he is running to the television, “what will those funny boys be doing this day?!?” He then slides in to his usual spot so close to the television, you would never ever be so close to yours, and grabs the power switch turning on the television ever so firmly and … nothing. He tries again, thinking this is a fluke. Nothing. Again he tries it. NOTHING. “What is this?!?”, Little Ronny P. wonder aloud, “Where are the brothers?!??!?” His mother slowly eschews from the kitchen to tell him that the television went out and that it would take years to buy a brand new one.

Little Ron Paul realizes that this is the truth after a slow facial change from happy to thee most miserable expression that you could ever see. Just as slowly, Ron Paul gets up and walks over to the door, still open since he checked for any friends to come over to watch the show with him. Closes it, too depressed to slam it, but the feeling to do so is still there. He goes up the stairs only a little faster to be able to get the momentum to help him up there without incident. His mother shouting about breakfast not being received by Little Ronny because he is too far from the kitchen and depressed. Goes into his room, cleans it up from the mess he made earlier, feeds the frog some more, fixes his globe steps back, looks at the globe with a sinister eye and in a huge burst of continuing anger bellows to himself:

“Just you wait. I will destroy yo9u one day. One day…”