What’s Eating Me These Days

For one thing, the Cheney story isn’t going away. Why not? Well for one, the victim in whose ass the VP busted a shotgun-full of caps is getting sicker, not better.

I’ll let more accomplished writers (and the history books) take Uncle Dick “Big Time” Cheney to task for his reflexive lack of candor. Considering he made his political bones during the Nixon administration, in the midst of his flurry of military deferments, one shouldn’t pretend to be surprised at his zeal for secrecy, cover-up and subsequent character assassination of his indictors. Offended, yes; outraged, sure; mortified, well we’re only human. But surprised? Let’s not kid ourselves.

What pisses me off this morning is how our sock-puppet President hasn’t brought any of his supposed influence to bear in driving a stake through the heart of this story. Not only have we not heard Word One from Cheney’s putative boss, but he’s left his press secretary out to twist in the wind, alternately not giving him the information he needs, and/or not allowing him to disseminate same when he does have it.

If we (the disgruntled Left) ever had any doubts who’s running the show over there at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., this should put those to rest once and for all. W’s number two guy pumps a big Republican donor full of birdshot, the White House can’t get any message out besides spinning that incident for the better part of a week, and still no appearance or even statement by the Shooter?

If it was my agenda being highjacked by the stonewalling of a subordinate, you can bet your last buttcheek I’d have the dope responsible in front of cameras crying 'mea culpa' so fast it would make your head swim.

What kind of a pussy is our alleged President, anyhow?

A biiiiig pussy, apparently.

In happier news (and talk about another fascist despot who has taken the pulse of his nation and gotten it dead wrong), Saddam Hussein has announced he is on a hunger strike.

No Saddam. Please. Don’t.

And why the fuck am I required to care about the Olympics? Since when is strapping yourself to a sled and hurtling hundreds of miles an hour headfirst down a tube a fucking sport? And even if it is, who cares besides NBC?

I think the Olympics, like the Catholic Church (a whole other post, I'll get to it some day), is in its waning days, having culturally jumped the shark late in the previous millennium. If the sheer quantity of alternate entertainment options doesn’t render it hopelessly quaint, the rising clash between Islamic and Christian fundamentalism will soon make its continued practice, in its current form, unfeasible.

On the other hand, I could just be cranky because my favorite show, "Meet the Press," keeps getting shuffled around to broadcast the questionable accomplishments of these Olympic-size jock dumbfucks and I can never find it.

Oh well. At least I have Saddam's Hunger Strike and Cheney's press inavailabilty to keep me entertained in the meantime. Make a note: Both events are on Day Five and counting. Coincidence, or conspiracy?

Hail, comedy.