Once upon a time, on a farm in Virginia, there was a little red hen who scratched about the barnyard until she uncovered a few grains of wheat.  She called all of her neighbors together and said,  ‘If we put in the work to plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?’ 
   ‘Not I,’  said the cow. 
   ‘Not I,’  said the duck. 
   ‘Not I,’  said the pig. 
   ‘Not I,’  said the goose. 
   ‘Then I will do it by myself,’ said the little red hen, and so she did. The wheat grew very tall and ripened into golden grain.  
   ‘Who will help me reap my wheat?’ asked the little red hen. 
   ‘Not I,’ said the duck. 
   ‘Out of my classification,’ said the pig. 
   ‘I’d lose my seniority,’ said the cow. 
   ‘I’d lose my unemployment compensation,’ said the goose. 
   ‘Then I will do it by myself,’ said the little red hen, and so she did. At last it came time to bake the bread.  ‘Who will help me bake the bread?’ she asked. 
   ‘That would be overtime for me,’ said the cow. 
   ‘I’d lose my welfare benefits,’ said the duck. 
   ‘I never learned how,’ said the pig. 
   ‘If I’m to be the only helper, that’s discrimination,’ said the goose. 
   ‘Then I will do it by myself,’ said the little red hen. She baked five loaves and held them up for all of her neighbors to see. They all wanted some and demanded a share. But the little red hen said, ‘No, these five loaves are the fruit of my labor alone; they belong to me. Perhaps I’ll sell some to you?’ 
   ‘Excess profits!’ cried the cow. 
   ‘Capitalist leech!’ screamed the duck. 
   ‘I demand equal rights!’ yelled the goose. 
   The pig grunted in disdain.

And they all painted ‘Unfair!’ picket signs and marched around and around the little red hen, shouting angry words at her. 

Then farmer Obama came. He said to the little red hen,  ‘You must not be so greedy.’ 

   ‘But I worked hard and earned the bread, doing what many of these other animals could have done themselves if they put in the effort,’ said the little red hen. 
   ‘Exactly,’ said Barack the farmer. ‘That is what makes our free enterprise system so wonderful.  Anyone in the barnyard can earn as much as he wants.  But under our modern farmyard regulations, the productive workers must divide the fruits of their labor with those who are idle.’

And they all lived happily ever after, including the little red hen, who smiled and clucked, ‘I am grateful, for now I truly understand.’  But her neighbors became quite disappointed in her.  She never again baked bread because she got her bread free. Even so, the farmer smiled.  ‘Fairness’ had been established. Individual initiative, the true impetus of production, had died, but nobody noticed; perhaps no one cared… so long as there was free bread that ‘the rich’ were paying for.