Envy is a hissing hot coal from hell’s hearth. Envy waves her wand and a prince savagely surveys a shepherd’s success. A shepherd who is also a soldier. A harpist who has become a hero. A popular peasant who has climbed the Everest of adversity.

The king’s eyes are so emerald with envy that his pupils resemble shamrocks. Like a Fourth of July watermelon, he is green on the outside, while red with rage on the inside. His envious eau de cologne is as fragrant as a convention of Limburger cheese salesmen. He is like those envious blind men described by Dante in The Purgatorio, men so blinded by envy that their eyelids have been sewn together for all eternity as punishment.

The final vote has been cast in the primary, and the king has been crushed by a young upstart. Like a tidal wave spitti…