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Tuesday, January 30, 2007



So sez the rag we in DC read (unless we're drunk and then we're reading the "Moonie" ah, Washington Times). From WaPo (that's Washington Post for outside DC):

"Whether swearing at a Democrat on the Senate floor or calling Donald Rumsfeld the best defense secretary in U.S. history, his conduct makes even some Republicans nervous."
Or this:

But as his astonishing interview with CNN's Wolf Blitzer laid bare last week, Cheney is increasingly out of touch with reality. He seems to think that by asserting things that are simply untrue, he can make others believe they are so.

Maybe that works within the White House. But for the rest of us, it's becoming a better bet to assume that everything -- or almost everything -- Cheney says is flat wrong.

Maybe, because Cheney shot a Texas lawyer in the face last summer, and literally got away with it (when you or I would be facing at the very least, an Assault with a Deadly Weapon Charge, even if the shooting was accidental), no one's willing to take him on because they might catch a face or belly full of buckshot.

Maybe because Cheney's still touchy about those five deferments from Vietnam he received when he sees Chuck Hagel or Jim Webb strolling the halls of the Senate buildings, because they are living reminders to him that they honored their country by doing their duty and going to Vietnam to serve, and he didn't.

Maybe, because Cheney can tell anyone, be they a U. S. Senator (Patrick Leahy, D-VT) or a member of the media who's been the lapdog for the entire six years of the debacle we call a Presidency (Wolf Blitzer) to F* Off at will, and they do it, he can tell the entire United States of America to go F* themselves and he expects full and total acquiescence.

I've said this before: Cheney is evil personified. He is the physical manifestation of Satan; or as close to it as a human being can get. So we should not be surprised that Americans found their voices as well as their spines and are "pushing back" on the rhetoric coming from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue for the last six years, that Cheney's growling, and growling very LOUDLY.

My friend, Pesky, defended me, his blog sister, from a person posting a comment about me that was undignified and had the stench of straight up playa hating. His post was that of "never touch a dying dog in the street, for the dog will still tear your hand off. And the breath I'm smelling is all dog..."

In the case of Dick Cheney, Pesky's comment is perfectly fitting for the Vice President who lied, cheated, stole, and yes, shot a person in the face, to keep the power that he obtained illegally, and is now sensing it's slipping away. He's reacting like a dying dog, or any wounded animal that's been cornered and has nowhere to go, and nothing to do but fight till it's dying breath. But, while he's in the throes of dying, a cornered animal is going to bite, claw and scratch until he takes that last breath, or some human being comes along and puts a bullet in it to put it out of it's misery.

My father used to hunt wild game. Once, he took my brother when he was old enough to shoot a gun. (Save your outrage for the Gun Guys over at BuzzFlash, okay?) The night before they went off hunting, I was eavesdropping on their conversation as my father gave instructions and advice to my brother. I remember my father telling my brother to make sure that if he shot game, to completely kill it - not to rely on killing it with one shot, because the animal is suffering and may injure others in his wounded state.

He said that about killing bears and mountain lions, too. Wounded, they are more dangerous, because they are in pain, and can inflict more damage because as a result of pain, they are lashing out. As a seven year old, I never forgot this piece of advice, though my father never took me hunting. I guess I remember it now, because Cheney reminds me of a wounded animal, lashing out at everyone telling him he's acting like he's off his meds.

He's a wounded animal. And Congress needs to strike that final blow and put him out of his misery. Can you spell I-M-P-E-A-C-M-E-N-T?

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