Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Kiss, Kiss, Bang Bang 

On the one hand, just a hunting accident. On the other hand... imagine if Bill Clinton or, more properly, Al Gore, had accidentally unloaded a round of buckshot into a friend's face on a hunting trip. And then tried to keep the news from the public for more than twenty-four hours.

It's nice to see the comedy shows making hay with this incident, but there's another truth beneath it that I hope doesn't get lost. Dick Cheney has done exactly what NeoCons love to accuse and accuse and re-accuse Ted Kennedy of doing nearly forty years ago. Mainly, running away from an "Oopsie."

A human being with a sense of dignity and a shred of conscience would have been on TV an hour after the... um... "accident", letting the world know, "There was an accident while we were hunting, but the guy I accidentally shot is okay." And hey, I can certainly grant the man a gimme -- 'cause I've been around amateurs with guns, and have only saved my limbs by being defensive; i.e., keeping said limbs away from the business end of the weaponry held by the guy doesn't realize his finger is on the trigger and his foot is within range and the thing in his hand is full of bullets that love to go WhizBang at the slightest touch...

But, oops. Forgot. Cheney has neither a sense of dignity nor a shread of conscience. But now he's got an albatross, and I hope this hangs around his neck for as long and as badly as the NeoCons have hung Chappaquidick around Ted Kennedy's.

Oh yeah. One difference. Ted Kennedy has actually fought for the little people, ceaselessly and tirelessly. Dick Cheney? Somehow, the only thing I think he'd fight for is a seat at the good table at a Billionaire-Laden Republican Fundraiser.

And now, a few words for the NSA spies out there. Dick Cheney should be severely castigated for having shot a hunting partner, if not censured and/or impeached. Maybe this whole thing will blow up into some sort of outrage at the Capitol. Or not.

Vince Foster, anyone? Hey, at last, in Cheney's case, we know who was holding the gun. And, from this day forward, I have a great new nickname that Der Fuerher George Bush can call Dickie Boy.

Elmer Fudd. 'Cause he's just about as good a hunter, eh?

Duck Season. Rabbit Season. Duck Season. Rabbit Season. Rabbit Season. Duck Season!


Silly Wepublicans...

Duck Season, indeed. 'Cause the mud that will be flung is just going to get worse and worse. Heh heh. I feel like Matt Drudge the day they found the little blue dress.

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?