Dick

What a drag that Dick is, Bush! I mean Cheney. The name says it all: Cheney. Sounds a bit like Marley's ghost, I always think, hauling those chains around and rattling them once in a while to scare the pants off all of us. Sepulchral is the word that comes to mind when I see him on TV. And the first name... well, it speaks for itself, doesn't it?

And the voice, Bush! He puts on this voice of self-evident reason, avuncular, confidential, fast and low as a cruise missle, and as deadly. You just get carried along for the ride when you listen to him, hypnotized by the drone into (almost) believing every word he says. Ah, yes, you (almost) think, this is a man of unquestionable authority. This is a man who knows whereof he speaks.

I listened to him during that Jim Lehrer interview a couple of nights ago, and good old Jim, I have to say, seemed almost as hypnotized as the rest of us, nodding away as His (e)Rectitude, the Dick himself rattled off facts and figures 'til the cows came home. It's only when he stops that you come to and realize what a load of crap he's dumped on you. That his premises are back in the 19th century somewhere. That he's a retro-cyborg from some distant past when the world was a simple place and oil was plentiful and the rich deserved their riches; and America was always right about everything and super-powerful and Father always knew best.

Enough. I don't want to get personal or anything. But really, Bush, you should keep this golem locked up in his closet. Otherwise, he'll be the end of all of us, and the earth we live on. Trust me.